That's how long the surgery lasted. I got to sit in the sunshine...not for too long, my ivory skin only needs about 3 minutes before I start to cook.
I talked with the financial counselor.
I shared the burden with family.
I ate mediocre cafeteria food.
Every hour, there was a text saying they were still working.
The surgeon finally came in, exhausted and rubbing her hands. 11 hours and 24 minutes, I'm sure they were cramping something fierce.
They got 90% of the tumor.
Looks like an ependymoma. Usually benign. Usually recurring.
Chemo or radiation.
MRI tomorrow.
Then we waited for John to come. We waited for another eternity. Then the chaos came.
Tubes, tubes, tubes. Dried blood everywhere. I could only see the top of his head with that big bandage and the drain.
We waited for them to be done, so we could stand next to our baby. It took another short forever.
Finally, I was summoned to come see him. So pale, so tiny, so much dried blood. Ink on his forehead. Breathing tube in his mouth, along with another tube. So many numbers on the screen. Beep, beep, beep, that dreaded noise from the NICU.
Too high of blood pressure.
He was fighting to wake up, more sedation required. Waving his little arms and legs. Scrunching his eyes.
My little fighter.
Stable through the night.
They need him to cough before they can insert a feeding tube.
He needs food. He needs his strength.
Waiting on MRI.
The PICU is full...patients are being turned away. Where would we have gone...
This isn't supposed be happening, but it is.
One day at a time.
No comments:
Post a Comment