***
Then Dan went to work, because his supervisor had refused to give him the day off, and instead had required him to attend a routine class on communication skills. And the rest of us went to sit in the waiting room, and then in the lobby, and then in the waiting room, making half-hearted stabs at conversation, trying to read, or just staring off into space.
Seven and a half hours later, Elijah was out of surgery.
Seven and a half hours later, Elijah was out of surgery.
***
We didn't get to see him in recovery--I guess, looking back, because they didn't really wake him up. He was going to spend the next week or two on the ventilator, and they were keeping him sedated for the duration. When they finally had him settled in his new room in the PICU, they let us go up.
Walking into that room was like getting hit in the stomach.
I can clearly remember thinking, "Oh, God, what have we done?"
He was horribly swollen. I think he must have been twice his normal size. And he was pale as the blanket he was laying on, and bruised, and bloody. These pictures were taken a few days later, when the swelling had already gone down a lot, and he was much cleaner, and not as pale. They really don't do it justice.
And because of Elijah's unique anatomy, the placement of his vent tube was very precarious. He was desatting with the slightest movement--and they had to turn him slightly every two hours (which took a respiratory therapist and two nurses, every time). They kept him catheterized because he couldn't tolerate being moved enough to change his diaper. If they had lost the vent, his extreme swelling would have made it very difficult or impossible to get another one placed, or even to do a trach.
Dan's request to be excused from drill the weekend after the surgery was also denied, so he capped off his week by driving the three hours to drill--which meant he worked twelve days straight over the week of and week after the surgery.
We didn't get to see him in recovery--I guess, looking back, because they didn't really wake him up. He was going to spend the next week or two on the ventilator, and they were keeping him sedated for the duration. When they finally had him settled in his new room in the PICU, they let us go up.
Walking into that room was like getting hit in the stomach.
I can clearly remember thinking, "Oh, God, what have we done?"
He was horribly swollen. I think he must have been twice his normal size. And he was pale as the blanket he was laying on, and bruised, and bloody. These pictures were taken a few days later, when the swelling had already gone down a lot, and he was much cleaner, and not as pale. They really don't do it justice.
And because of Elijah's unique anatomy, the placement of his vent tube was very precarious. He was desatting with the slightest movement--and they had to turn him slightly every two hours (which took a respiratory therapist and two nurses, every time). They kept him catheterized because he couldn't tolerate being moved enough to change his diaper. If they had lost the vent, his extreme swelling would have made it very difficult or impossible to get another one placed, or even to do a trach.
Dan's request to be excused from drill the weekend after the surgery was also denied, so he capped off his week by driving the three hours to drill--which meant he worked twelve days straight over the week of and week after the surgery.
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1 comment:
I'm glad you explained about the pictures (having been taken later, that is). I was looking at them thinking, Wow, I *really* over-reacted at the time, didn't I? He looks pretty normal in these pictures, nothing at *all* like I remembered him being right after surgery. . . .
Always nice to find out that perhaps I haven't *totally* lost touch with reality after all!
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