Port Insertion Surgery

As a father, yesterday (Sept 29/2011) will go down in history as one of THE TOUGHEST days of my life……..so far.

It was with very mixed feelings since the day the surgery was first booked, through the early part of this week when we found out surgery had been expedited till the time we were able to hold Jasper again when it was all over.
Mixed feelings because the whole while we knew that this surgery was 100% necessary to make life easier with the many infusions he’s going to have to endure now, while on the other hand………… what in the heck are we putting this poor defenceless boy through?

As you see in the photo, pre-op, he was playing the morning away with his friend Terry (Child Life) and all the toys in the pre-op waiting room.  Mom, dad and Terry are every once in a while trying to remind him about what’s about to happen using ways and words that aren’t going to upset him.

Then it’s time to go, rather than lay him in a steel caged crib to be whisked away, Jasper says he’s fine to walk in with Terry.  Mom and dad breathe a sigh of relief because we expected a fuss at that point.  I wonder…….knowing what happened to him now, if we were in that position today….would he be so cooperative as to go with Terry?  Will he ever again?
Mom or dad wasn’t allowed to go into the O.R. with him because we didn’t have time to register in the hospital’s NAP program.  Looking back, maybe it was a good thing.  Terry told us that Jasper did very well going to sleep.  He was apprehensive at first with the other strangers in the room, but they all took their time, and when he was asked, Jasper sat up on the table and then laid back, and then put the mask on without any fuss.  Hearing this makes mom and dad very proud and somewhat relieved because we could have expected a big outcry and un-cooperation.  It also made me very sad to picture that happening in my mind.  That poor dear sole, who never hurt anyone, has to go through that scary process by himself.  Both mom and dad are fighting back tears.  He’s brave and strong, why can’t we be?
It’s now just shy of 11:30am.  We go to the waiting room and watch as various surgeons come down and speak to other waiting friends and family and tell them that their loved one is ‘done’ their surgery and will soon be in recovery.  We wait a few minutes in case the anaesthesiologist has any questions, then we decide to go and grab a quick bite, since none of us had eaten anything yet.  Grabbing a drink and a muffin we go back and eat it in the waiting room because we want to be there as soon as the volunteer comes to get us to tell us Jasper is in recovery.
First, the surgeon comes by and calls us over.  “Everything went well, and it’s all done.  At first, the tube kept wanting to travel down Jasper’s arm rather than down in to the aorta, but after a few attempts, it got to where it needed to be.  We tested it and it works fine, so they shouldn’t have any trouble using it for his replacement therapy very soon.”
We feel another big sigh of relief as we sit down again and wait for them to tell us we can meet J in recovery.
A few minutes later, we get the call, a volunteer takes us over to recovery.  Jasper is lying in the crib crying and crying, not really opening his eyes, just crying inconsolably.  “owy owy owy, my tummy hurts.   Can you kiss it mommy?”  After a few short minutes of this, daddy has to sit down.  My stomach is weak at the best of times, but now, seeing and hearing these painful cries.  As if I didn’t feel guilty enough already.  I don’t think daddy can take much of this…….  They give Jasper a shot of morphine on top of the Tylenol he had going in to surgery.  That seemed to calm him down and it made him sleepy again so he had another nap.  While he was asleep, mom and dad talked to the nurses a bit, and listen as other children in the room who have had other various types of surgeries are waking up and crying in pain, and yearning for their parents to come in as well.  One little girl (Pearl) whom Jasper played with a little bit in the waiting room pre surgery, is continually crying for her mom, dad and baby sister.  We hear the nurses say to each other, “we can’t find her parents, they must have gone for a walk, or to get a coffee or something.”  My heart went out to that little girl, and I couldn’t help but think, ‘parents, if you could only hear your little girl crying out for you……’  It was tearing my heart apart, and it wasn’t even my child.
As we watched J sleep, I prayed that when he woke up, we’d get our Jasper back.  I prayed that the anesthetic would be completely worn off, that the morphine continued to help with the pain, and that he could be awake without too much discomfort.  I knew that if he woke up crying again, and still in a lot of pain that I would not be able to take that.  I recall thinking, ‘why God?  No child should EVER have to endure the pain and suffering of surgery, of any kind.  They’ve done nothing wrong, and yet, they have to suffer.’  Mommy remains strong, as daddy loses the battle against the tears.  The nurse says it’s time for him to wake up now……the moment of truth.  Does daddy have to face his little boys’ pain and anguish again?
As he wakes this time, he doesn’t frown, and doesn’t cry.  He’s thirsty.  Those familiar words, “Can I have juice?”  Daddy cries again, tears of tremendous joy and relief this time.
We stay in recovery for a another 15 mins or so, and then he’s ready to be moved to post-opp.  Daddy gets to carry him from one room to the next, and then we sit and cuddle the next hour and a bit away in the post opp room.  Quieter all around, a lot less crying.  More juice a couple halves of popsicles, a shot of Advil before the long ride home, and by 3:30pm, we’re sprung.

On the way out of town, we stop at the pet store and pick out three fish to bring home with us.  We wanted to get home soon, as J would be able to have more Tylenol by 5:30pm if he needed it.  Lo and behold by the time we were home, if he wasn’t routinely talking more and happy to see his brother and sister and show them the fish he picked out for them.  “Here’s some medicine J.”  “I don’t want it.  I don’t need it.”  That’s awesome.  We were hoping to skip the next dosage of Advil, but if he doesn’t need Tylenol either, that’s great.  We’ll wait and give it to him at bed time.  So the fish have names now.  Jasper has named his “Terry”, Daphnie has named hers “Pearl”, and Clayton has name his “Yellow”.  Note all three fish are your general run of the mill ($0.19) GOLD fish.

 And so, the kids are in bed, mom and dad breathe the last big sigh of relief on a long day.  Thank you Jasper for being as strong and as brave as you are.  As I tuck him in, I tell him, “I hope this is the hardest thing you ever have to do” but a knife in my stomach tells that it’s probably not about to be.

Life is hard.  Parenting is hard.  Watching your kids have to go through something like this is excruciating.  God give me strength.  I almost let you and Jasper and mommy down this day.  I’m going to need a lot more if we ever have to do something like this again.  Amen.
Thank you to all of you who prayed, thought of and cared about Jasper and our family through the surgery and the entire ordeal as we continue.
Stayed tuned for the next story:  “First treatment”  Gosh I hope that day goes easier than this one…………!!