New Lows.....
Posted Sep 7, 2010 11:13pm
I was so relieved when they came out and told me that Phil was out of surgery, that I forgot to think about what comes next, and it has started to resemble a sick and twisted version of "Let's Make a Deal"....Indeed, what IS behind door 420?
Who is that handsome little man (great posture now, by the way), who is lying there, motionless except for the tubes in his mouth that give his little frame the rise and fall of respiration? Why are his lips and tongue so swollen? What are all the dents and dings in his face? What are all those erector sets of tubing coming from both arms? And Lord have mercy, what are those bloody bags hanging from his back?
Yes...it's Phil, it's my son, my baby boy. He does open his eyes when I call his name. He can squeeze my fingers. He looks like he belongs on an episode of "House". The beeping in this room could drive me to distraction. What does it all mean? For some reason, it feels as if an invisible governor has slammed down right in front of me. I can't see ahead. I don't know what will happen. No one does. Flying blind. I try to contemplate what the next nasty revelation will be...I haven't even seen his back wound yet. And in a way I am glad. I don't even want to KNOW what macabre surprises tomorrow has in store for me. Or him. We'll just deal with it - (or not) - when it gets here.
We arrived in the ICU about 6:30. The nurses were there getting him all settled in, explaining why they kept him intubated was largely due to the extreme swelling of his lips and tongue. Phil will be very happy that we took pictures, as when he recovers, he WILL want to see it! They then explained what all the monitors and tubes were for, and took the time to turn Phil and empty the drainage bags on his back. I stood and watched for as long as I dared before they had a second patient in Rm 420. So much blood...measured and dumped down the toilet. My baby is being dumped down the toilet a cupful at a time. The nurses explain what I was already told. Phil bled...a LOT...during the surgery. He was transfused 5 units of blood, and was also treated to some of his very own, vacuumed up and recycled! This has all been just a little too much reality for one day.
As of right now, they are running more lab tests to see if his blood is clotting properly, and would like to see that slow down. They would also like to see him breathe on his own, and are waiting until morning to extubate. In the meantime, he has some pretty heavy-duty sedatives keeping him from this reality, and some morphine to take the edge off. He has spiked a little temp, but again, I am told this is normal.
I look at that person whom I love so dearly, lying there...and I don't care. I don't want to know. I just want him to open his eyes, smile, say "Love you mom" like only he can, and we can go home. But the fact of this whole thing has rearranged our dance card, and all we can do is wait and see what tomorrow has in store.
I do know it will be okay. But like everything else at the moment, I don't know how. I don't think I know anything anymore EXCEPT that it will be okay. So, thank you for sharing in tonight's nightmare. I think I'll put an order in for some light drama or comedy for tomorrow...if that counts for anything.
Who is that handsome little man (great posture now, by the way), who is lying there, motionless except for the tubes in his mouth that give his little frame the rise and fall of respiration? Why are his lips and tongue so swollen? What are all the dents and dings in his face? What are all those erector sets of tubing coming from both arms? And Lord have mercy, what are those bloody bags hanging from his back?
Yes...it's Phil, it's my son, my baby boy. He does open his eyes when I call his name. He can squeeze my fingers. He looks like he belongs on an episode of "House". The beeping in this room could drive me to distraction. What does it all mean? For some reason, it feels as if an invisible governor has slammed down right in front of me. I can't see ahead. I don't know what will happen. No one does. Flying blind. I try to contemplate what the next nasty revelation will be...I haven't even seen his back wound yet. And in a way I am glad. I don't even want to KNOW what macabre surprises tomorrow has in store for me. Or him. We'll just deal with it - (or not) - when it gets here.
We arrived in the ICU about 6:30. The nurses were there getting him all settled in, explaining why they kept him intubated was largely due to the extreme swelling of his lips and tongue. Phil will be very happy that we took pictures, as when he recovers, he WILL want to see it! They then explained what all the monitors and tubes were for, and took the time to turn Phil and empty the drainage bags on his back. I stood and watched for as long as I dared before they had a second patient in Rm 420. So much blood...measured and dumped down the toilet. My baby is being dumped down the toilet a cupful at a time. The nurses explain what I was already told. Phil bled...a LOT...during the surgery. He was transfused 5 units of blood, and was also treated to some of his very own, vacuumed up and recycled! This has all been just a little too much reality for one day.
As of right now, they are running more lab tests to see if his blood is clotting properly, and would like to see that slow down. They would also like to see him breathe on his own, and are waiting until morning to extubate. In the meantime, he has some pretty heavy-duty sedatives keeping him from this reality, and some morphine to take the edge off. He has spiked a little temp, but again, I am told this is normal.
I look at that person whom I love so dearly, lying there...and I don't care. I don't want to know. I just want him to open his eyes, smile, say "Love you mom" like only he can, and we can go home. But the fact of this whole thing has rearranged our dance card, and all we can do is wait and see what tomorrow has in store.
I do know it will be okay. But like everything else at the moment, I don't know how. I don't think I know anything anymore EXCEPT that it will be okay. So, thank you for sharing in tonight's nightmare. I think I'll put an order in for some light drama or comedy for tomorrow...if that counts for anything.
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