Seeking Relief

Well, as Zach posted, Anders is 100% CCAM free. Zach feels a great sense of relief, but I am not there yet. We are both so thankful for a successful surgery and for that answered prayer.

Before surgery, I was so frightened of all that could have gone wrong. I tried to focus on the Bible verses that wisely question, "Who has ever added a single minute to his life by worrying?" Worrying can accomplish nothing.

But geez, if I was going to worry anyway, I wish I had known that I had enough to worry about with everything going perfectly as planned. No need to consider the "what if's"-- successful surgery and normal recovery provide more than enough ammunition! This is hard!

As you saw in the picture Zach posted, our little guy was quite a mess when we first saw him. He had an IV in his arm and another in his foot, an artilliary line in his other arm, 3 leads on his chest, a little sensor taped to his toe, an oxygen mask, a catheder, and an epidural. He was also very swollen and so pale that even his birthmark was white. His little chest was moving fast in short, labored breaths. Shortly after getting out of surgery he needed blood. [This event has inspired me to give blood at every opportunity I get!] He slept all afternoon until about 10:00pm.

Then the hard part began. The rooms at Children's Memorial are tiny and shared with another patient, so only one parent is allowed to sleep at the bedside. Right when Zach left for the night, Anders woke and started crying. He cried for 2 1/2 hours straight. I kept calling the nurse in and I was crying, too. They finally gave him enough meds to keep in him comfy for about 4 hours. Then he started crying again. We knew this time that more of the same was not cutting it, so they switched how the drugs were being administered.

That changed helped his comfort level quite a bit--he was more awake and alert, looking around and even smiling-- but unfortnuately it then created a troublesome side effect: every single time Anders started to drift of to sleep, he would violently start and jerk himself awake. Then he'd cry, settle down, fall asleep, jerk awake...endlessly. Poor baby was so tired and completely unable to sleep. The "Pain Team" then gave him a different drug and he was much more comfortable the second night.

Today I was concerned because he was so very lethargic. I wasn't sure if he was just tired or in a lot of pain or what. He laid in one position and barely opened his eyes all morning. His breathing seemed shallow and labored again. As I began discussing the situation with the nurses and anesthesiologists, my mom came, saw Anders, and got in everybody's faces about the unacceptable state of her grandson's care. Zach and I were both annoyed and grateful for her "righteous anger." :) We ended up getting both action and information from our medical staff.

Then we sat Ando up in bed and he gave us all a bit of a scare by throwing up lots and lots of old blood. As horrifying as it looked, though, I guess it's pretty normal. He seemed to feel much better later and sat in our laps reaching out for cups and toys and even giving us a little smile once. He also got out his epidural and cathedar, so at least there are fewer lines running from his body to machines. Once his visitors left, Anders feel asleep in Daddy's arms and that brings us up to date!

We were really hoping his chest tube could come out today, but he's leaked a lot of fluid and they would like to see that slow more before removing it. Everyone says that he'll act like a totally different baby once that chest tube is out. It is really painful for adults, let alone babies. Tomorrow they'll do a chest x-ray at 6:00am and then we hope to get his chest tube out before 9:00am. He can go home about 24 hours later, so it looks like we'll be celebrating the new year in a cramped hospital room.

We felt totally blanketed in prayers the day of surgery. Thank you everyone for the calls, emails, etc. It has been amazing to know how many people were praying for our little guy. We could not feel more loved.

We haven't called back or answered our phones because for one thing, cell phones are not allowed on our floor. Also, it feels like we're always either quickly taking care of our immediate needs with trips to the bathroom, shower, and cafeteria, or tending to Anders. He's quite suspicious of the nurses. He doesn't put up a fight but eyes them suspiciously as they go about their business. He does throw a fit, though, if I leave his side while an unfamiliar face is near by.

I feel so bad for my peanut. As any mother knows, seeing your child in pain is worse than being in pain yourself. If I had to choice to take the pain on for him, I would do it in an instant--I long to do it for him. I keep thinking about how happy he was before we handed him over to the surgeon. He doesn't know what hit him.

A children's hospital is a sad place at night. I highly recommend avoiding them if you can. I was certainly praying hard during surgery, but the moments when I was really begging God were in the middle of the night when Anders could not find comfort or sleep. Please keep praying for him. He's got a little ways to go before he can breathe easy, and before I will truly feel relief.