In the last post I talked about surgery on one’s child and how that no parent wants their
child to experience pain and anxiety. Mighty Z’s biggest fear is blood work, and
although I have tried to make it better for her, I have failed in that arena.
The next part
of surgery that brings fear and anxiety is the waiting room. Each one of us parents who have sat in the
surgery waiting room knows what it’s like.
We sit there with blank expressions on our faces waiting for our child’s
name to be called so we know that all is ok. We hold our breath as we “try” to
pass the time by reading the same sentence over and over in the book we
brought. Our faces are covered in worry as we stare unblinkingly at the
computer screen.
When Mighty Z
went back to the operating room, her daddy and I joined the ranks of helpless
parents in the surgery waiting room. After
a while Mighty Z’s name was called, and we popped up to go speak with the surgeon
who had done the first phase of the surgery. The first surgeon told us what every
parent wants to hear, that the surgery was very routine and our Mighty Z did
great (whew!!).
Next up to
bat and doing the second phase of surgery was the Electrophysiologist. An electrophysiologist is a cardiologist who
specializes in the treatment and diagnosis of irregular or abnormal heart
rhythms. The Electrophysiologist was placing a loop recorder (picture of the loop recorder to the left) in between the fat and muscle directly on top of Mighty Z's heart. Back we
went to wait again with the other poor souls in the waiting room. About halfway
into the second part of the surgery, a nurse came out looking for Mighty Z’s
momma (my heart dropped into my stomach).
The nurse
explained to me that I needed to suit up and come into the operating room while
Mighty Z was still on the surgery table. You know those times when a wave of
helpless anxiety washes over you? Well, that is how I felt; however, courage
isn’t a roar, it is a tiny voice that says ‘I will do this anyway.’ I took a deep breath, held my head high, and
walked the long hallway to the operating room, where I suited up in my bunny
suit and pushed the double doors open.
There lying
on the surgical table was my baby. Her eyes taped down, her hair wrapped in a
cloth, and a tube down her mouth. Some things mommas should never see, and this,
friend, was something I can’t get out of my head. I spoke as soon as I entered
(to me it didn’t sound like my voice-- it was much too strong for how I felt) I
said “You needed me?” And the nod from the surgeon said, “Yes, we need you to
turn Mighty Z’s breathing pacers on for us; we do not know how.” Relief mixed
with bewilderment washed over me as I took her breathing pacer and flicked the
switches. I looked the surgeon in the
eyes and said way too calmly for how I felt, “So how did it go?” From across my
baby’s prone body, the doctor explained how the surgery went and what to expect
from recovery. I left the operating room feeling a bit shaky and made my way to
the safe haven of the surgery waiting room.
Fifteen minutes later, Mighty Z’s name was
called again but this time it was to say we could go see her in recovery. There
she was, my sweet angel, a little groggy but awake so I could see those
beautiful eyes. Recovery took some time, but I was happy to be next to her
holding her juice and talking to her.
Later after transport came and brought
her up to the ventilator floor, my baby slowly fell asleep and I stayed awake
watching over my treasure.
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