It is 2 days after Ava's surgery...and thankfully life goes on. Ava is recuperating nicely and we are falling back into our old routine. Before I go any further let me just say that the last couple days have been the most trying of my life. I never realized how much I love my child, want to protect her, and can't bear to see her in pain...until we went through this ordeal. Let me take you back a few days....
Monday the day before the surgery...it is rainy and dreary and I feel a weight on my shoulders that I have never felt before. I am an anxious person by nature but this was a anxiousness that took my breath away and made it feel like a 1000 people were sitting on my chest. I can't really pinpoint exactly what it is about a looming surgery that causes so much anxiety...perhaps there are to many things to list. It is an overwhelming thought thinking of your child going under, getting cut, facing risks, waking in pain, not understanding what is going on, and the list goes on and on. Then in our case...with it being a surgery that was optional...it left us wondering if we made the right decision and if the whole thing was really necessary. As an adult you can make your own decisions on your health and whether or not you want certain procedures to be conducted. As a child all that responsibility lies in the hands of a parent.
The day slowly moved forward as I packed our bags for the hotel stay, for the hospital stay and for Stef who would be staying with her grandparents for 2 days. The time finally comes where it is time to drop Stef off and head out to a hotel that is near the hospital. Ava was very excited about the prospect of traveling with both parents alone and getting a fun evening out at a hotel to eat, swim, and play. A fun time was shared by all but the cloud of dread never stopped looming over our heads.
Tuesday at 4:40am....after a restless night of sleep...I got up and began getting ready. A million thoughts were going through my head and a million different questions I all of a sudden wanted to ask anyone that would listen. How will she take the IV? Will she panic when we have to leave her? How long will they let us stay with her? How long will it take?? Will it all be okay?? Questions perhaps I should have asked but didn't really think of as other information was being spewed out to me the two weeks leading up to this. Information I was given included time of operation, procedures that would be taking place, location, possible time frame depending on the severity of the brachial cleft abnormality, and that she would be staying one night. Other than that...I didn't know much.
We arrived at the hospital at 6am with 15 minutes to spare. In my minds eye I pictured us walking into a quiet office where we would be the only ones there. We would be taken back and then be given further details about what was about to occur. An operation is such a major thing to the individual undergoing the procedure and the family undergoing it with them...but unfortunately is is not as major to a hospital. How can it be...there are hundreds of operations that go on everyday. People are just people to them...nothing else...not family, not friends. But to us it is more and it is was hard to swallow how it all really went down and how impersonal it all felt. We get to the hospital and we find our way to the in/out surgery area. It is a large room filled with at least a 100 people. There are old people, young people, babies, people with major disabilities, deformed individuals....pretty much someone from every walk of life. We go to the check-in desk where we receive a pager...much like the one you get at your local Ruby Tuesdays when waiting for a table. You sit and when your pager goes off you go to another desk where you sign your name on a screen. It is barely even explained what your signing. When asking...the lady states it is insurance information and she wishes she had more time to go over it with us but has so many people to usher through the office. We then sit and again wait for our pager to start buzzing. It goes off about 15 minutes later and we go to a nurse that is standing at the front of the room. Several other peoples pagers went off at the same time so we are all standing together. We are then asked if we have to go to the bathroom. This begins feeling somewhat surreal...again not what I expected in my minds eye. Why am I being asked this?? Where am I going?? Are there no bathrooms? How long will I be back there? To embarrassed to raise my hand...I decide I can hold it and we move on. She takes us to another floor down various corridors and then hits the big silver button that opens two double doors into a room that looks like something out of a nightmare. There are people laying in beds throughout the room with various tubes, in various states of consciousness and in the background you hear babies crying, children shouting, and you see the doctors rushing around. It all became to much at that point. I felt lost, confused, and completely overwhelmed. Tears welled up in my eyes and I just wanted to grab my baby and run from all of this. She could live with these bumps...anything is better than this. I then snapped out of my daydream when I am told to go to the desk and sign some more papers. Once that was done we were led to our curtained off corner of a room and Ava was placed on a hospital crib. She was given a pair of hospital pajamas to wear and was completely clueless to what was about to happen. Her and Brian were having a grand old time playing with all her stuffed animals and she was jumping all over the place like her normal spirited self. Several minutes later the entourage of doctors, nurses, and residents began. First came the nurse who explained what was about to happen. This was when I realized that one of my worst fears was about to be put to rest. She explained they sedate the child with a medication so the separation from the parents is not so difficult. Why did no one ever tell me this?? This entire time all I could picture is them wrenching Ava away from us as they wheel her away into a sterile and scary looking OR room. I thought she would be panicking throughout the whole thing until someone finally put her under anesthesia. What a relief to know that this is how it was about to go down. After wrestling with Ava to get the medication down her throat...she began to get a bit "fuzzy". As she was zoning a bit the doctors continued to come in and out. Everyone asked the same questions over and over and over again. What is she getting done? What is her past medical history? When is the last time she ate? When is the last time she had a bowel movement? Just over and over and over again those questions were asked. I honestly do not know how hospitals make mistakes on patience because it sure does appear they are thorough. The doctors marked the areas of surgery and explained the entire procedure and what we could expect. The anesthesiologist explained they would put a mask on her and put her to sleep before inserting the IV. Yet another major relief. I thought for sure that would be another terrifying experience...watching them struggle to get an IV in a 2 year old that is in a rage. Hmmm...maybe this whole thing isn't going to be as bad as I thought. Finally it was time to separate and one of the very nice anesthesiologist grabbed Ava up after making "friends" with her and off they went. Ava never even looked back. Again...not how I pictured it would all be.
Brian and I head back to the in/out surgery area where we are to wait for the doctors phone calls. We sat there and processed what just happened. We felt a sense of relief of how it all went down and that no tears were shed by Ava and that maybe the worst was over. Little did we know...
About 30 - 40 minutes after our initial separation from Ava our "Ruby Tuesday pager" goes off and we report to the waiting room liaison. She states that the doctor (hand specialist) is on the phone to report on how the first part of the surgery went. Again...not how I pictured that happening. I expected to be in a quiet waiting room where the doctor would come in smiling telling us all went well and she was resting peacefully. Instead I am sent over to a phone that is ringing in the corner...where pretty much anyone that wants to listen...can. The doctor reports that the ganglion cyst had been removed and was larger than what they thought. They got it all, tied it off, and stitched the incision shut. They bandaged her arm with a cast in order to keep it stable for the next week or so. He explained the next doctor was currently in the OR and getting ready for his portion of the surgery. Little bit of relief...but the worst surgery was yet to come.
We decided since we had a while to wait we would run and get some coffee just to get out of the oppressive room with all the patience and their anxious family members. So we took our pager and headed to the cafeteria. We chocked down some coffee and quickly returned...not wanting to miss the doctors call. This portion of the surgery took approximately 1 hour and 45 minutes. My pager went off and I returned to the liaisons desk where she motioned me to the phone. The doctor reported that there was indeed a fistula connected to the pit and they were able to remove it all with one incision. He reported that she did well during surgery and warned me that she might wake irritable. He also stated there was very little bleeding and if she was doing extremely well by the end of the day that perhaps we wouldn't have to stay the night. The doctor then stated that she would be arriving in recovery soon and they would call us as soon as we could go back. We sat there for about 15 minutes before they called us. They gave us a piece of paper with directions on how to get to the recovery room. We were so excited to see her and thought for sure she would be asleep and when waking she would be thrilled to see us. What we found was completely different...
We followed our directions to the room, hit the big silver button to open the double doors, and again we were greeted with a room full of surgery patients in all different states. This time I didn't care and didn't pay much attention....I just wanted my baby. We stated who we were and they said "oh good...they were asking for you all". We rush back to where we are led and there is our poor baby being cradled by a complete stranger. She only has her pajama pants on, tubes all over her, a huge bandage around her neck and a cast on her arm. Her face is so swollen it is almost unrecognizable and she looks like she has been through the worst experience of her life...and in all actuality she has. This child has never so much as had a band-aid. The worst she has had is a ear infection and we have been there for her every second of her life...if she needed anything. This time she woke up, she was scared, hurting, and we weren't there. I don't know why they didn't have us there the second she opened her eyes? So without us there she woke with a "bang". From what we gather she went berserk. She was trying to pull out her IV, she must have been screaming on top of her lungs and crying her eyes out...hence the swollen face and the massive pile of tissues lying beside her. I quickly approached and neeled down in front of her and I felt my heart break in a million pieces. She did not seem happy to see me or relieved, in fact, I felt that she was mad at me. If she was...I will never know. She wanted her Daddy and for him to hold her. So Brian calmly sat down in the rocker and held her to his chest. Ava would lay there peacefully for a bit and then she would sit up and start pulling on the bandages and IV's and start crying. I just sat there helpless and in tears myself. The doctors came in and checked in on her and felt that she was calm enough now that she could be moved to her room. They put Brian in the wheelchair and he held Ava and they pushed them to the children's hospital.
The next phase of this whole thing became much easier. The nurses showed us around the children's floor of the hospital and tried to make us as comfortable as possible. At this point Ava was extremely restless and could not seem to settle herself. This is often how she gets when she is overtired. There was no way to keep her calm unless we had the TV on. Thank goodness I had the whits about me to pack her favorite movie...Toy Story. We popped that in and she settled some. She would come and sit with me for a bit and then she would go sit with Brian. She did not want to be bothered at all but seemed to find comfort in being near us. The minutes just drug by as we sat in the room and we just felt dread over the long night that was potentially facing us. However...late afternoon the ENT arrived and took a look at the incision on Ava's neck. Being that it was still bloodless...he felt he could release her and let her go home. AMEN!!!!!!! We couldn't get discharged quick enough. We felt confident that if we could get her home to her own bed and the things that make her comfortable that she would rest better and in turn heal quicker.
Within the hour of the doctor saying we could be discharged we were in the car and on our way home. Ava fell asleep almost immediately. Brian and I...at this point...felt this whole experience come crashing down around us. I quickly called my mother to check on Stef and to just vent about the days happenings and to let her know we were on our way home. The moment I opened my mouth I began crying recounting the day and all the events. Brian silently listened as he drove and wiped the tears from his own eyes as the day caught up with him. After getting off the phone we continued to process the day and talk it over. It was a very strange feeling. The operation was something that we wanted to have over with...yet we were not feeling a sense of relief. I guess it was the unknown of what to expect once we got home. We did not know how Ava would be, whether she would be in pain, if she would relax and be comfortable...it was all stressing us out a bit. On our way home we stopped at the pharmacy and got her pain medicine, her antibiotic, Popsicles, and ice cream. Once we got her home we made her favorite macaroni and cheese and then gave her ice cream. We were doing anything to make her happy and to make things up to her. She was just beyond tired and miserable at this point. So as soon as dinner was over I gave her a sponge bath, administered her medicine, dried the tears that followed and got her to bed. Thank the Lord she slept the whole night without a peep...and woke up the next morning in good spirits.
The days following the operation she would tire easily but for the most part was her normal self. She was not as energetic but still as compliant as ever and sweet as can be. Exhaustion seemed to envelope us all as we were somewhat like zombies the days following the ordeal. We were happy to have our Stefi back and have the whole family returning to normal. It has been 4 days since the operation and I couldn't be more pleased with the outcome or with how well Ava is doing.
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| Day after surgery |
I have come to the realization within the last couple years of my life that everything happens for a reason. Everything is a piece of the puzzle of our life and there is a lesson(s) to be learned from everything we go through. Finally...to be thankful for every experience and lesson no matter how hard or grueling it might be. Believe it or not...the morning after the surgery I woke up and said a prayer to God thanking him for the whole experience. I did not know the lesson yet but I was thankful that He led me to a situation in which He was present and guided me through it. In the days following I have learned that perhaps the biggest lesson in all of this was for Ava. Perhaps this is her first glimpse of how gracious God can be. When he created Ava he created this situation for her to go through. From it hopefully she will see how good God can be...how He can bring us through tough times...and how he is there even when it is all over. I personally have learned that things continue to be out of my control, and that when I am faced with the unknown, I MUST HAVE FAITH. I'm sure as time progresses I will continue to see the lessons from this experience and how I can apply them to future experiences. I hope to also take these lessons and teach them to my own children someday. It is safe to say...the things that happen in life are all lessons for the days ahead.
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