The surgery is behind us. We came in this morning at 7:30, kissed him on the cheek as he went under at about 9:30, and then rejoined him in the PICU at 2:30, when it was all over. The surgeon told us that all went well, and the tumor is gone.
I was surprised at what I felt after leaving him. First sadness (which was not the surprise), but then- relief (surprise!). And happiness. And peace. And calm. It was out of my hands and in the hands of the twenty people who introduced themselves to us in the minutes before surgery.
I felt guilty when I first caught myself feeling happy. It doesn’t seem right to feel happy when my 3 year old is in brain surgery. But then I thought about what a friend told me when I lost my mom, and was first introduced to grief. “However you feel is how you’re supposed to feel.” Even though I’m not grieving, the words seem to make sense here too. So I went ahead and felt happy, and relieved, and calm. But not guilty.
You know what’s crazy? People do this- surgery, IV’s, medicine, and recovery- over and over. We stayed at the Ronald McDonald House a couple of nights ago and heard an exchange between two women. They referenced Oklahoma City, and Johns Hopkins, and Boston. They’re on a circuit of treatment, from hospital to hospital.
In contrast, we’re in a sprint. We have to go hard at this surgery/recovery thing for a while, but then (Lord willing) it is over and behind us. Like my friend Jenn said, it will be an awesome story for “two truths and a lie” one day. But it is likely not something we have to keep battling and figuring out. I mean- our life has revolved around this whole seizure/tumor/surgery thing for months now, where I keep other parts of our family moving along, but it is all subject to change according to the Monkey’s health. We’re looking ahead at getting back to healthy normal, though.
To families who do this month after month and year after year- the Lord’s peace to you. I don’t know what else to say. This road is not easy.
So he is asleep now. He had a rough patch from midnight until about 1:30. I have the faintest smell of vomit on my hospital security band, from holding him as he got rid of two cherry Italian ices and a grilled cheese. (Which explained the whole “my tummy hurts” thing we were hearing about). He is IV’d and stickered and monitored all over his upper body. He has dried blood on his foot. The scar on his head is a doozy. But- BUT- he is sleeping now. And the surgery went well. And it is behind us.
For all of that- I am so thankful.
Lots of other thoughts, but have I mentioned it is 2:00 a.m.?
I leave you with this: