So now for a true "someday moment" the surgery. We headed in to the hospital at 6:30am, and after picking up coffee for me (he can't eat or drink due to surgery) headed in. We first went to radiology for the MRA (head scan.) This was one part of the hospital I had spent some time in from my two pregnancys and even though it had been fully remodeled it was nice being in an area I recognized. They took him off, and I played games on his iPhone. After several minutes he returned with the "yep I have a brain" joke fresh on his lips. Oh if all hospital visits could be so easy. From there we went to wait for two hours until his surgery appointment time. Its strange to be in the hospital so early in the morning. There weren't many people around and in some ways it felt like we were all alone.
We sat and pulled out the lap top, logged into wifi and watched videos, chatted and tried not to get nervous. I now wonder how nervous I actually was, how much was I hiding even from myself. I sat with Rob holding hands waiting till they called our name, his name. That two hours felt like an eternity, at least at that point. We then went to a different type of waiting room. He changed into his gown and we were in this land of medical cubicles. He laid in his bed and I sat with his bag of "stuff" clothes etc waiting. There was the usual slew of doctors and nurses asking questions making sure we understood everything, and checking his vitals etc. Of all the places I've ever been in the hospital this I think was the must uncomfortable, I have never felt more in the way. I knew Rob needed me there, and I needed to keep him in my sight as much as possible for as long as possible, but I was always scooting to a different corner so they could get him extra blankets, socks, vitals, etc. Then they asked me to leave. It wasn't time for the surgery it was time for the anesthesia and since there were so many going to be involved I was asked to leave. I stepped out for a few minutes, and paced till I was allowed back in. I don't understand why it was so nerve wracking I was going back in as soon as they had numbed his arm. The goal was to make it so he wouldn't be able to move his arm during surgery since he still had a slight cough. The anesthesiologist came to get me from the waiting room and brought me back. There was Rob was looking a bit loopy, tired which was different from when I had left him 15 minutes before. His arm was blue and there were still several people around him (oh the joys of a teaching hospital so many people.) It was interesting because even though they had brought me back to the cubicle, they were still working on him. He wasn't totally numbed yet so they added another blocker, and then were ready to move him to surgery. It felt slightly off that I had been asked to leave, and yet brought back prior to the end of the procedure. I wasn't going to complain I wanted to be with him as much as possible, but still it was odd. The technicians who wheeled him away let me walk with them. Though I doubt he actually knew I was still there, I did and it made me feel a little better.
As we walked down the hall, I said I was going to go on to the coffee shop and grab a bite to eat. The technician very politely started to tell me where to go. I smiled and let him know I knew where I was had spent plenty of time at the hospital and not to worry about me. His response was "oh, I'm sorry." I was surprised by this reaction. In my mind all of my visits up until December had been happy ones, the birth of my children. I hadn't viewed the hospital as a negative or depressing place to be. I still don't, it is a necessary evil in a way, and yet I don't really think of it as evil. Even though we have several surgeries and hospital stays in front of us, it is with a positive outlook, we are giving Rob more life! I can see how some people can't stand to be in hospitals, but for me I wasn't there and I hope I never get to that place.
I watched Rob go through the double doors for his surgery, and headed up to grab my food, and then back to the waiting room. It was supposed to be a "quick" surgery only a couple of hours. I set up my food, the laptop with Facebook to keep everyone up to date, and waited for my friend to call. My best friend during the start of this was in Bolivia. I had sent her a message about what was going on, and the first thing she did was call me. She typically goes to Bolivia for several months a year (family is there) and so I was surprised at the call, grateful because I didn't have to pretend to be strong for her. She was the one who decided we were going to talk while Rob was in surgery. She knew I would need the distraction more than I did. We talked about nothing for two hours. In the waiting room there were others who had friends wait, books, computers, knitting. We were all in the same boat, trying to mind the time before we would hear the outcome of what happened. It is such an intense feeling of helplessness. We continued to chat so that I didn't understand that I was experiencing this feeling at first. Right at the two hour mark I started to watch the clock. This was completely sub conscience. I just found myself looking at the time every minute or so, and then looking for the surgeon. Where was he, it was time for Rob to be done and me to be able to see him again. The time kept ticking by with no word. I was still talking with my friend, but I was slowly becoming very aware of time passing. Suddenly I saw the surgeon making his way to me. I quickly get off the phone and with my heart in my throat, remembering that in some ways this was the long shot option. He smiled and said everything went great. It was a very smooth surgery and I should see Rob soon. That because of how small everything was, not to worry if I couldn't feel the thrill right away, he had a hard time finding it as well, and used a ultra sound to make sure everything looked good. I was stoked, I packed the computer, pulled my bag over my shoulder and waited, and waited, and . . . .
Ten minutes, twenty minutes. I got the computer out to complain on facebook (the only outlet I could think of) thirty minutes, forty. I had seen other surgeons come talked to families and those families head back. I was a wreck. I paced that room with out getting to far away from the door (a very small space.) Finally a nurse came out to get me. I came back and Rob looked wiped out. He was nauseous, even though he hadn't eaten all day (it was now 5pm) he was excited because Dr. Muczynski had dropped off the letter I needed for work, and listened to his fistula with a big smile on her face. So the nurse and I fed Rob crackers yogurt and cranberry juice. Robs arm was still so numb he had no control over it. With everything that happened that was what really freaked Rob out. We started to get everything together and I began to understand why it had taken so long for me be allowed back. The anaesthesia really worked on him, he was loopy, and yet stressed at the same time. The nurse asked if I knew what I was looking for since we needed to make sure the thrill didn't go away. I said I had a good idea, but that I knew it was weak. She went to show me, and couldn't find it. She grabbed a stethoscope and listened for it. When she found it she then marked his arm with a sharpie so I would know where to feel. The thrill is litteraly a buzzing feeling under the skin near the crux of his elbow.
We had to put a sling on Rob so that he wouldn't move his arm especially in his sleep since he still had no control over it. I had to help put his shirt on, his shoes etc since his arm was for all intense and purpose paralyzed. A volunteer came and helped put Rob in a wheelchair and I drove back to my parents. We were supposed to go home that night, it was the 23rd and we still needed to put the final touches on our Christmas plan. The boy's especially Owen was so excited, and I had a large amount of guilt as my parents are Jehovah's Witnesses, and so we had asked Owen not to talk about what was coming up in respect for their beliefs. It felt very unfair to have a 6 year old have to keep his excitement about Christmas in check. But when Rob and I arrived there was no way we were going to make it home. Just the drive to my parents house had wiped him out more if that was possible. It was dinner time, and Rob was in no shape to move again. We got him situated, ordered food, and stayed the extra night. I knew it was an imposition, but my mom was gracious, and as I tucked Rob into bed that night, explaining to the boy's what was going on, I on a whim felt for the thrill. I didn't think I would feel it after everything the surgeon had said, and what had happened in the hospital when the nurse couldn't feel it. But there it was, the vibration so strong, it was his Christmas Fistula. I was shocked and yelled for my mom (the nurse) to come feel. It was totally that "oh that's weird you got to feel this" moment. With everything that happened that day it was a good way to end. The thrill was there, we had made progress, this someday moment had passed successfully, and we now could take a breath and enjoy some family time. Some of the urgency had passed. Yes the fistula had to mature and would take three or four months, but it was in.
NEXT UP: Getting to know our local emergency room.
