We were brought into PCMC from the ambulance and went through the necessary motions (for insurance purposes, I'm sure) of meeting with an ER nurse and then doctor. While in the ER a phlebotomist started a new IV. This guy was amazing. It was very apparent that he had done this many times before. What took three nurses several tries the night before, he accomplished with one stick and no assistance in a matter of minutes. Amazing. I was grateful for his efficiency.
That dreadful October night when we faced the ultrasound machine again, for a very different reason, all I could pray for was an answer. The ultrasound tech was matter of fact and straight to the point. In a matter of seconds we would know, there was no gray area. Either there was an intussusception or there wasn't. (Which led me to wonder why that wasn't the first test they did back at Davis, but that is not worth dwelling on at this point.)
When he pointed at the screen and said, "And there is your intussusception," relief poured over me. We had an answer. Brandon and I squeezed each other's hands. We might have even been tempted to jump up in down in celebration, but we knew that this was only the middle of the journey. There was still a lot of road ahead of us.
The next step was the air enema. An enema of air was to be given while x-rays were taken of the abdomen. The air is intended to create pressure that should then reduce the intussusception. We were warned that this would be uncomfortable for Samuel. Imagine feeling bloated and gassy. Mutliply that by a few thousand and that is probably what an air enema feels like. I was prepared for him to be uncomfortable. What I wasn't prepared for was to see my small, helpless child arch his back and scream in pain, completely red in the face. Keep in mind that up to this point, in the past 12 hours, he was completely lethargic. The tension in the room was thick. You could slice it. The radiologist, the nurses, Brandon, and I, we were all helpless to do anything besides watch this tiny life endure this painful procedure. I don't think anybody anticipated the pain it caused him. I want to start crying just thinking about it again. The doctor proceeded in spurts. A few seconds of air, several x-rays to track the progress, and then a break. There was a clock on the x-ray machine. I was shocked as I watched only seconds pass by, it felt like minutes, hours even. The radiologist was concerned and obviously frustrated as try after try didn't completely reduce the problem. After what was only 1 minute total procedure time (with the breaks in between) he stepped back and announced, "There is nothing more I can do." To continue would have sent Samuel's body into shock. He walked out of the room to go consult the surgery team.
Minutes later we met the surgery team, the procedure was explained to us, Samuel was laid on a gurney, I gave him a great big tearful kiss, and he was off to surgery. They would first attempt the reduction laproscopically. If necrosis was found then they would have to cut into the abdomen to repair the bowels and reduce the intussusception. Best case scenario we were looking at a 48 hour recovery period, but it could possibly be up to 7 days. After they wheeled Samuel away we were brought to a waiting room and instructed to answer the phone if it rang, that is how they would update us on the progress of the surgery. We sat and talked and ate some of the food a sweet sister in our ward had brought down to us. About forty five minutes later the phone rang. Brandon answered it. After talking he hung up and looked at me with a smile on his face,
"They aren't quite done with the surgery yet, but they were able to reduce it laproscopically, and his bowels look pink and healthy."
2 comments:
My stomach still tenses up reading about this journey.
I went into get a blood taken for a test and the person taking it was awesome. She took one look at my small veins and said I am going to use a pediatric needle. I hardly knew they took the blood.
Glad he is all better!
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