Monday, February 21, 2005

Surgery Tomorrow tomorrow's the big day. Adenoids out. We're off to the Children's Hospital of NJ first thing tomorrow morning.

Bryn and I have talked about it, and he seems to understand. ("My add-en-oids are making me sick. The doctor's going to take them out. I won't go to school, but I can watch Thomas videos all day.") He's such a good boy...I hope this doesn't suck too much for him.

I'm nervous as hell. I'm glad we opted to go to the children's hospital, where they have a pediatric anesthesiologist on full-time. We could have donet his outpatient, and a lot closer to home, but we would have been taking a gamble with the anesthesiologist. And, as my dad astutely pointed out, anyone can take out adenoids. It's the anesthesia that's tricky. And, might I add, especially when you're dealing with an asthmatic preschooler.

Really, what's worst for me is the idea of watching him go under. I did this last year, when he had a optical surgery. I walked him to the OR and held his hand as he went under. To see him walk down the hallway in that blue gown (which was too big for him) looking so much like a little angel, and then to watch him so agreeably put on the mask for the anesthesia (this is, after all a kid who's been on nebulizer treatments for two years) then lie there so frighteningly lifeless on the table -- well, it was the most terrifying thing I've ever seen.

The "AngryAsthmaMama" is usually pretty good about handling the illnesses of her children. After all, like all parents, I do what I have to do, particularly when it comes to my kids' health. But that moment in the OR was haunting and terrible. I completely lost it. As I left the OR, leaving Bryn in the hands of relative strangers bearing scalpels, I positively crumbled. I felt so frightened and helpless. I wanted to rip him off the table and take him home.

This is the scariest part for me. Usually, I take the advice of my doctors - about 85% of it - and administer treatments myself. I call for backup when I need it; I offer all the hugs and kisses and positive reinforcement I have to in order keep my kid as healthy and wonderful as he is.

But in the OR, I leave Bryn (and myself) prone and vulnerable and in the hands of a doctor I suddenly don't know enough about. It's not a control thing - it's a protection thing. I want to be there, not running the surgery, but holding my son's hand throughout his ordeal.

God, I just love that little boy more than words can ever express.

Say a little prayer; pray that everything goes well tomorrow.

1 comment:

Elizabeth said...

I hope the surgery went well. I'll keep you and your little boy in my thoughts and prayers.

I found your blog through your posts on the parentcenter board. Thanks for sharing your experience -- we're just starting to figure out this world of asthma treatments that we've landed in, and it's great to have a guide.