Comfortably Numb....
Posted Sep 7, 2010 1:15pm
The best thing that I can say right now is that we have the only two recliners in the waiting room and e-cigarettes are wonderful. Phil as I write this is in what I have chosen to believe are very capable hands, doing unspeakable things to his little body to make it work better for him in the long run.
We woke up at 4, jetted out the door by 5:15, and made it here about 10 minutes late. No matter, they whisked us through pre-op, gave Phil some Versed (the "silly" medicine), which was decidedly not enough. By the time we were down in the holding area talking with the medical team one by one, I was having a hard time holding it together. Phil asked me if I was crying...I just told him they were "Mom tears" and quite normal, but he started to tear up to. Not a good combination...but they assured me he was under very quickly once in the OR.
For those of you who want details here they are...for those who don't, skip to the next paragraph! At around 10, they called to tell me they were about a half hour into the actual procedure. It took them quite some time to hook up two IV lines, one arterial line, (all in his arms), and they elected to do a central line in his neck also. He was outfitted with a catheter, and electrodes on his head to monitor his nerve function, to make sure nothing that isn't supposed to gets nipped or tucked. I am not at all sure how I feel about having transcribed this procedure in time past...thinking I know too much, actually.
While writing this, I received another update from the OR nurse, and Phil is officially opened up, and they are ready to start working on his spine. He has been stable the whole time and has not needed any blood yet - both good signs so far. While this is great news, I am trying not to throw up.
I've chosen at this point, having temporarily exhausted my present supply of tears, to just go numb...attempt to find a happy place, write, read, stare at the walls. I am thankful Mark is here to keep me from floating away, but I know of no other way to deal with this at this moment. I know that Phil is sleeping through this...and I wish I could. With the bladder behind my eyes filling up again, my stomach in a new location just below my throat, my heart breaking in pieces which are lodging their jagged edges into my guts...I think Phil and I are BOTH gonna need therapy after this!
Thanks for your support - it means so very much...we will keep you posted!
We woke up at 4, jetted out the door by 5:15, and made it here about 10 minutes late. No matter, they whisked us through pre-op, gave Phil some Versed (the "silly" medicine), which was decidedly not enough. By the time we were down in the holding area talking with the medical team one by one, I was having a hard time holding it together. Phil asked me if I was crying...I just told him they were "Mom tears" and quite normal, but he started to tear up to. Not a good combination...but they assured me he was under very quickly once in the OR.
For those of you who want details here they are...for those who don't, skip to the next paragraph! At around 10, they called to tell me they were about a half hour into the actual procedure. It took them quite some time to hook up two IV lines, one arterial line, (all in his arms), and they elected to do a central line in his neck also. He was outfitted with a catheter, and electrodes on his head to monitor his nerve function, to make sure nothing that isn't supposed to gets nipped or tucked. I am not at all sure how I feel about having transcribed this procedure in time past...thinking I know too much, actually.
While writing this, I received another update from the OR nurse, and Phil is officially opened up, and they are ready to start working on his spine. He has been stable the whole time and has not needed any blood yet - both good signs so far. While this is great news, I am trying not to throw up.
I've chosen at this point, having temporarily exhausted my present supply of tears, to just go numb...attempt to find a happy place, write, read, stare at the walls. I am thankful Mark is here to keep me from floating away, but I know of no other way to deal with this at this moment. I know that Phil is sleeping through this...and I wish I could. With the bladder behind my eyes filling up again, my stomach in a new location just below my throat, my heart breaking in pieces which are lodging their jagged edges into my guts...I think Phil and I are BOTH gonna need therapy after this!
Thanks for your support - it means so very much...we will keep you posted!
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