After Girl Child’s first surgery was rescheduled, she was given a brief reprieve from the liquid diet, but had to go back to it in the afternoon before the rescheduled surgery. After seeing her brother off on the bus to school, I helped her with her pre-surgery shower. In an effort to prevent infection from surgery, she was required to wash with a special germ killing soap (chlorhexidine) and would also be required to wipe down with wipes soaked in the same stuff during her pre-surgery procedures on the surgical floor.
We were due to arrive at the hospital at 11:30 in preparation for the 1pm showtime, and despite the hospital’s parking garage being completely full necessitating us parking in the garage for the hospital next door, we made it right on time. They called us back and began running through the various questions about medical history and medication reactions, down payment for the surgery itself, etc. The anesthesiologist, Dr. J., met with us and talked over anesthesia and pain control. DH mentioned to her that he and his mother have a history of waking up quickly–too quickly–from anesthesia, and Dr. J. made a note of that. She walked us through the various potential adverse reactions, none of which were very likely but had to be disclosed either way. She was very kind and spoke directly to Girl Child as much as to us about what to expect. I got teary when I told Dr. J. that Girl Child was worried more for us, that we’d be getting regular updates on how she was doing, but that she would be asleep and unable to get updates on how we were holding up. I hadn’t wanted to tear up in front of her, but maintaining that brave face was really hard. We signed the first of what was sure to be many consents during this process.
A nurse came in to start the IV, using a very clever tool that numbed the skin with a CO2 cartridge of lidocaine before the needle stick. Then she handed Girl Child a hospital gown and me some warmed chlorhexidine wipes so I could do the pre-surgery wipe down. Dr. C. arrived just as I was wiping her down, and once finished he came in and marked her for the first surgery: a stark line 6 or 8 inches long running along her left flank from just under her shoulder blade down and around to the front rib cage. He talked about the game plan for this first surgery, which would remove the discs from her lumbar vertebrae. The overall plan has been to fuse the fourth thoracic vertebra (T4) down to the fourth lumbar vertebra (L4), but we’ve hoped there would be a chance he could save L4. We asked him if he thought he could stop at L3 today and see what happened, and he’d clearly already been giving this exact plan some thought. He said he didn’t want to “buy the bridge” as it were, and that he could indeed stop at L3 and take L4 on Monday during the last surgery if need be. He would need to see what things looked like once he got in there, but that was going to be his plan. We were relieved; we knew he was taking this decision very seriously. After checking with us to make sure we had no further questions, he left to get his scrubs on.
Next a nurse in scrubs, E., stepped in and talked about the spinal cord monitoring that would be her job to watch. She was very sweet and showed Girl Child how she’d have to wear her surgical mask in the OR, but that she’d have a big smile on it for her behind the mask. She even gave Girl Child a big smile and pulled up the mask while she smiled, her eyes continuing to smile above the mask. It definitely put Girl Child at ease. She told us we might see some pin pricks in various places after the surgery where different electrodes were attached to send impulses from Girl Child’s head to toes to ensure everything was working as it should. With a final smile Spinal Cord Monitor Nurse E. left.
A nurse came to administer the “loopy juice”–versed–in Girl Child’s IV. This was to make her calm and unconcerned in the face of being wheeled away from us. I asked if the parents couldn’t get in on the versed action, but for whatever reason, they said they couldn’t do that. I really think this needs to be an offering–bring your kid for surgery, get a couple hours’ worth of anxiolytics. The versed kicked in, and Girl Child was indeed loopy. Every.single.thing.we.said brought about a giggle, and she slurred her words more than any drunk fraternity guy I ever knew. I took a video to show her later of how she answered my questions of her grade in school, instrument she plays, whether she’s qualified to operate a motor vehicle. Then they asked if we wanted to get some hugs in, and that meant the moment was here, the moment where I had to watch them wheel my baby girl down that long hallway and away from me. We gave her hugs and suddenly they were wheeling her away and a nurse was pulling us aside to show us some other paperwork. I hurriedly waved to Girl Child before turning my attention to the materials the nurse was showing us. They didn’t even seem that important, and in retrospect I decided it may have been an intentional (and admittedly genius) method of distracting us as our child was wheeled away from us. Thanks to that nurse, I didn’t break down, though I’d been on the verge of it for quite awhile. After we finished going through the papers she had for us, she showed us to the surgical waiting room where we camped out, waiting to hear any news about her progress…
