When Jacob was a toddler we noticed his right testicle looked swollen. Worried he had injured himself, we immediately scheduled an appointment with his pediatrician. We were somewhat relieved to hear it was a hydrocele (a collection of fluid in his scrotum), caused by a small opening in his abdominal wall, and not a huge concern at the moment. We were told to watch it, but that it would probably resolve itself.
Over time, the hydrocele appeared to be smaller, but it never completely went away. It was determined that surgery was required to drain the fluid and seal the opening in his abdomen. Even though the hydrocele itself wasn't painful or really even a threat, the long-term concern was that a loop of his intestine could poke through the opening and cause a painful, dangerous hernia.
Which brings us to Friday, August 11th.
We knew it had to be done.
We knew it was a relatively quick, straightforward procedure.
We knew it would be extremely rare for him to have an adverse reaction to general anesthesia.
We knew his doctor was a skilled surgeon with impressive credentials.
We knew other children successfully underwent this surgery all the time.
We knew all of this.
But what you know and what you feel are two very different things, especially when it involves your child.
When your child is the patient, no surgery feels straightforward. The time in the waiting room doesn't pass quickly...it stands painfully still. Promising statistics and success stories don't keep what if's from creeping into your mind. And no matter how qualified the surgeons and nurses may be, trusting strangers with your child's well-being is a hard thing.
It wasn't an easy morning for us, but it was an opportunity to grow in our faith as we made the choice to trust in God's goodness and sovereignty.
________
Jacob's surgery was scheduled for 7:30 am at the Asheville Surgery Center. We had to leave our house by 5:30 to be at the center for our 6:00 registration. Grandma and Grandaddy spent the night with us on Thursday to be with Lydia in the morning.
Jacob was pretty excited about waking up when it was still dark, leaving the house in his pajamas, and getting to hang out on the miniature furniture in the waiting room. He knew he was going to have surgery, but he didn't (and still doesn't) know what surgery actually was, so he didn't have any anxiety. We wanted to be honest about what was going to happen, but at the same time not scare him with too much information. We basically told him he was going to take some medicine that would make him go to sleep and while he was asleep, Dr. Kiser was going to fix his tummy. We warned him he might not feel well when he woke up, but we would have a special treat for him afterwards. He didn't seemed concerned when discussing his upcoming surgery, and I tried to keep our conversations about it casual.
When called back, things began much like a normal well-check appointment with a nurse measuring Jacob's height/weight and taking his vitals. She got him set up with his surgical attire and gave him some "giggly juice" to make him sleepy and relaxed. We had brief visits with the anesthesiologist, nurse anesthetist, surgical nurse, and surgeon to sign more papers, go over procedures, and ask any final questions we had. I felt very anxious during this time, but post-giggly juice Jacob's rooster crows provided some much appreciated comic relief!
When it was time for Jacob to be taken to anesthesia we had to go back to the lobby. Leaving him was more awful than I anticipated. Even with the giggly juice he became panicked when he realized we weren't going with him. He started crying and begging to go with us. We knew dragging out our separation would just make things harder on him, so we gave hugs and kisses and left with the promises that we loved him, he was safe, and that we'd see him as soon as the doctor was done fixing his tummy.
Walking away when I knew Jacob was genuinely distressed felt as wrong as anything I've felt in my life. Every part of me wanted to stay and comfort him. One of the hardest parts about being a parent is watching your children experience hard things, knowing you can't fix it for them. We want to shield, protect, and make things okay. I would have taken all his fear and carried it myself if I could have. If only it worked that way...
The next hour in the waiting room was not fun. I felt heart-sick over how upset he'd been when we'd left him, nervous about the surgery itself, and unsure of what to expect afterwards. It was such a relief to hear he had been moved to recovery, everything went well, and that we could see him as soon as he woke up.
I heard him before I saw him. Jacob woke up hysterical and remained that way until we left the building. The recovery nurses were so kind and kept reassuring us that his hysteria was completely normal. A child his age doesn't know how to process the disorientation and discomfort felt from waking up from anesthesia. It was scary and overwhelming for him. He was also really upset about his IV and kept trying to pull it out. Thankfully, the nurse removed it as soon as he could drink something. After about 30 minutes it became obvious that while he wasn't going to calm down, he was okay, so we were discharged. They promised us he would do better at home and he did.
Jacob settled down during the car ride home. We made a special spot for him to rest in our bed and watch a movie, but after about 30 minutes he decided he was good. He was up running around like nothing ever happened! He didn't even take a nap that afternoon, and couldn't understand why I vetoed his requests to go for a run and to wrestle that evening. Before he went to sleep I asked him how he felt about the day and his surgery. He said, "Well, I think it was a GREAT day!" He remembers feeling sad when he woke up, but has no memory of anything before then. We're so grateful!
We're glad this experience is behind us, and while its not something we would have chosen, it made us stronger in our faith, brought us closer as a couple, and served as a reminder of how fortunate we are. Now more than ever, I'm so thankful for our two happy, healthy children.
No comments:
Post a Comment