Whelp, what a month.
Job started coughing with some clear snot about three weeks before his scheduled nerve re-innervation surgery (on February 26th). We kept in close contact with the PASS clinic (basically, the anesthesia and pre-op team) with phone calls every few days, monitoring his symptoms. I was absolutely sure the surgery would be cancelled. He sounded terrible. He looked terrible. And the rest of us were really sick too. It was the worst cold we've had in years, actually.
He maintained his oxygen saturations in the mid 90s and wasn't having particular difficulty breathing. If I wasn't so devastated at the prospect of cancelling a surgery I'd been waiting for on for nine months, I probably would have been really excited about how well he did navigating a nasty cold! Buuuttttttt I struggle to hold my plans with a loose grasp and remember all the ways we *are* blessed and all the ways God *has been* faithful to us and promises *to continue to be* faithful.
I had high hopes for this surgery. Too high, of course. I let my mind wander with thoughts that he'd never choke again! He'd speak so clearly! He'd get off thickened liquids immediately! I KNEW that if any of these things became even slightly realized it would just take time, but still. I had the date on my calendar and I didn't want to change it. I pouted and raged and wailed.
Because of the mold issues in the operating rooms and months of rescheduled surgeries, because of our surgeon's schedule, because of the UW surgeon who was coming over to assist on this surgery, because of Job's immunosuppression and fragility, the hospital was really reluctant to reschedule. I was actually very surprised. I've had to push harder for less complicated procedures to go through when he's had milder colds! I really wanted them to just cancel, but they kept telling me to call back in a few days. They said they'd decide on Monday (the 24th). I was really annoyed that they were even pretending they could go through with it because Job was too sick. I was resigned. It was cancelled. I made a new plan.
And then, as it turns out, he had a really good weekend. Monday he hardly coughed. The team met and discussed the viability of continuing with the surgery. They called me for an update. Then they said they'd call Tuesday. And sure enough, Tuesday they told me to just come on up for an assessment the next morning. We held meds, packed bags, arranged for activities and school for the big boys, but I drove up there fully expecting to turn around and come on home after they listened to his lungs.
As the various nurses and anesthesiologist and otolaryngologist fellows came in and out I kept emphasizing how sick Job had been, but after about 12 different people listened to his lungs and after the two surgeons and the attending anesthesiologist took a listen, we decided to proceed. The thing is, Job's lungs are so damaged and his vocal cord function is so inadequate, that he always coughs. His lungs always sound junky. And is there really going to be some time in his life (especially in cold/flu season?!) when he's three weeks removed from a cold? And the logistics of rescheduling with the surgeon from UW meant it might be another six months until we could make this surgery happen. I told the team that I felt comfortable proceeding if they did, but that I expected a greater oxygen requirement and a few extra days at the hospital. I saw the fellows smirk as I said that, but the attendings agreed with me. Job always always needs extra oxygen. He always needs extra recovery time.
Sure enough, though the procedure went well, he had a really rocky recovery and got to go up to the CICU on a ventilator. He actually was extubated fairly quickly once up there but it was pretty intense for a while.
Once he finally woke up, extubated, he had an ok night and was even pretty engaged the next morning. I'm always so grateful for Child Life's sweet care of us while we're inpatient. They always seem to find the perfect toys and crafts and activities from him.
We enjoyed watching the construction out our window.
And, of course, screen time is always a big hit.
And chocolate milkshakes!!
It took a few days to get out of there, as usual. It always feels like first days (sometimes weeks) we're there, when he's really sick, time races by and I'm just completely grateful to be there. But there's always a certain point when my gratitude turns to discontentment. A point where we both want out of the hospital and I struggle mightily to be thankful for their care.
I did listen to a couple podcasts about the "Coronavirus" people are starting to talk about and read a journal article about it. There was a big department meeting about whether or not to ration masks and whether to implement stricter iso regulations but final determinations were to be made by higher ups, so our unit didn't change policy. And, really, Job is already on strict regulations so likely nothing would have changed for us even if it did for the unit.
I think discharge day is always the hardest because it seems to drag, and the whole drive home is joyful, though impatient. I will continue to preach to myself to be thankful but I think this will always be a particular struggle for me.
And, of course, there's nothing sweeter than watching the boys exclaim over each other on our homecoming. They certainly argue and bicker and often sin against each other, but they truly love each other and are so very relieved to be reunited.
