Posted by: dsduffy | June 11, 2010

Anatomy of a really long day


Wake up an hour before the alarm clock that is set for 5:30am. Try to stay in bed but then realize that is impossible so get up get dressed and organize things for the day. Wake up 3 year old at 6am to get him dressed but try to steer him away from his usual eating and drinking first thing in the morning.

Arrive at the hospital right on time, park and hustle across the street from the carpark in the rain. Go through the admissions process in a really small and hot room and then head over to the elevator to Floor 3, the Paediatric Unit. Be led by the friendly nurse to room 301/302 and get settled. Take off jacket and scarf. Offer every toy and gadget to 3 year old in hopes of keeping his mind off the fact that he is hungry and thirsty.

Sit in this room for a long time. Try as hard as humanly possible to ignore your son’s whining about being hungry and tired, say over and over “in a little bit buddy, you’ll get your juice in just awhile.” Breathe a sigh of relief when the nurse comes back in to take son’s vitals, only to have him resist the pulse-finger-thingie and the arm band. Think to self “this is going to be a long day.” Settle down and send emails to family as son finally pays attention to a movie on the ipad. This is short-lived as he realizes he is hungry and thirsty, hungry and thirsty. More deep breaths.

Be told by the nurse that there is a little girl scheduled for surgery ahead of him, and that the surgery should take about 45 minutes. Do the math and realize we have another hour or so of listening to poor toddler beg for juice.

Finally. The anesthetist arrives and discusses options. Agree to have him add a little sedative into the Panadol (Tylenol) to “take the edge off.”  Which really means “make your 3 year old act like a drunk frat boy.”

After kissing your comatose boy on the Operating table, go down to the cafe and try to eat a sandwich and drink a Chai latte. Try to keep your mind off the fact that your baby is being operated on. His eyes. Those are pretty important.

Thankfully they ring 45 minutes later, and tell you to come to recovery. They warned you he might be upset, don’t get worried, it is normal. You can hear his screams from down the hall once you get off the elevator. That sounds like him, yep – it’s him. There are 3 nurses holding him down as he is trying to rip the IV out of his arm. They tell me that maybe he will calm down if I hold him. Not a chance. The 4 of us wrestle with him for what feels like an eternity until they get to OK to remove the IV. But then they have to hold a gauze on the wound but no – Jake won’t go for that either and blood – it goes everywhere. It is beginning to get serious and another large guy comes over to help restrain him as the other nurse puts pressure to stop the bleeding.

After that ordeal, they wheel both of us on the bed (with child trying to jump off the entire time) back to room 301/302 where daddy is waiting. Child continues to freak out for next 90 minutes. So much so that the parents of the boy in the next bed request a room transfer.

Watch helplessly as son lays on the floor in fetal position crying his eyes out. Moaning, crying, whimpering. It is heart breaking that there is nothing you can do about it. But you just can’t. The meds have to wear off on their own – there is no reasoning with him in this state.

FINALLY your sweet boy falls asleep whimpering on your chest. Both of you are sweaty and exhausted.

Spend the next 3 hours watching his chest rise and fall. Be thankful that this is over and that your boy is going to be ok. Think about parents of children who are really sick and are often in hospital rooms – think about how hard that must be. Thank your lucky stars that you have 2 healthy children, 1 of  whom has a stronger will than you ever knew.

When he is sleeping, play Scrabble on the ipad and keep looking over at him, his sweet face and sounds. Every once in awhile sneak a kiss hoping not to wake him.

You’re glad this day is nearly over.

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Responses

  1. You did great, Danielle. I know it was so very, very hard but you got through it and so did Jake. I have been thinking about you, your son and your family since last night. All my good thoughts are coming your way. Hang in there.

  2. Hugs. I have tears over here.

  3. Such a tough day, I know, but it’s over & all is well. The results will make it all worthwhile. Jake will have no recollection of the day and you’ll have a great story to tell him! Love to all!

  4. That sounds so horrible. Sorry you guys all had to go thru that 😦 and hopefully you never have to do it again. Hope you all get lots of rest. Sounds like you need it. Lots of hugs & kisses for all of you!

  5. I’ve been a little behind in reading your bl0g…just sat down to read this and I’m crying my eyes out! You poor things. Just terrible. So sorry you all had to go through this, but glad all is ok with Jake (and you!).

  6. Wow, that’s all I can say, wow – you described your day with so much detail and emotion, I could picture every scene – you’re a spectacular mom. Have to go wipe my eyes..♥


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