After what can only be called an emotional, exhausted, mental breakdown on both our parts, Heath continued to Walmart to get our overnight supplies. I was falling in and out of sleep when he returned. We decided to go into the bathroom to talk and to turn on a light. We didn't want to wake Lucy.
Heath showed me each of the items that he got, and looked for approval on the yoga pants and Huskers shirt he picked up for me at Walmart. Finally, for our culinary delight, he set a fountain drink caddy and a brown fast-food bag on the bathroom counter. Let me tell you something first...
Remember how I mentioned that we had gone to the doctor the day before? Well, when driving through town, I spotted the Burger King sign, "New California Whopper". I started to tell Heath that I had enough bad experiences at Burger King that the thought of even eating there made me want to gag. He kind of chuckled and said that he saw the same sign and thought the same thing. We then had a short 30 second rant on how gross it had become to us.
Guess what logo was on the side of that brown paper bag on the hospital bathroom counter? You guessed it: Burger King. Only in our hellish day could fate throw that type of irony at us. It was the only fast-food place open that late in the immediate area - even McDonalds was closed.
Oddly enough, we laughed. I think when you spend the entire day thanking the Lord for your many blessings, you just stop complaining. We stood in the bathroom, giggling like pre-teen girls who had stayed up too late, stuffing our faces. Heath munched on a chicken sandwich, while I poked around on chicken fingers. They were a little too crispy and were basically all breading. But, if you dipped them in the sauce, simply labeled "Zesty", they weren't too awful. I was more pumped about the fountain drink and swigged that caffeine right down. Heath and I somewhat reflected on the day. We knew there was much more to come though.
The nurses came in throughout the night to check Lucy's vitals. Lucy woke up and cried each time. By this time, she didn't trust any strangers that came in the door. I would help calm her each time they came in.
We woke up around 7 am to several nurses and doctors entering the room. I greeted them with my puffy eyes, no make-up, and morning breath. I'm sure I looked like a gem. Did I mention that I hadn't showered yet either? We were told that Lucy's surgery wouldn't be until the afternoon. This made it a long morning.
Heath decided to head home to get more things. It was obvious that we would be there for a couple more days. This gave me too much time to think. I was alone for about 2 1/2 hours. During that time, I held Lucy in the recliner, squeezed her tight, and well, panicked. I would start thinking about the surgery and start to work myself up so much that I thought I might be sick. My heart was racing and my face was red. I had to talk myself down several times. I've never felt such panic in my life.
I tried to ease my mind by asking one of the random nurses - or doctors or helpers or whoever she was in scrubs - that came in, if I could be with Lucy until she fell asleep from the anesthetic. She said yes. Whew! That made me feel a little better.
Thankfully my Aunt Amy showed up and once I had a good cry with her, I was distracted. It was so nice having someone in the room again, besides Lucy. When my Uncle Matt and Heath showed up, my mind was even more free. I was able to joke and laugh again. My heart stopped beating out of my chest.
Visitors came and went before the surgery that evening. It was originally scheduled for 5 pm...then 5:45 pm....then 6:30 pm....and then I think it was 7 pm when we started to head down. Heath carried Lucy as I held back tears. Some slowly streamed down my face as we walked down the hall and took the slow elevator ride down. Heath's sister, Heather, was crying, as well as my mother-in-law. I couldn't even bring my eyes up from the floor at the fear of losing it completely.
We were taken to a room to wait. A nurse came in to talk to us. Then, the surgeon came in and explained things. Finally, two nurses came to get Lucy. I realized then, that the scrubs lady had lied to me. We weren't going to be with Lucy when she went to sleep. I quickly told the nurse that I was misinformed. She shared my annoyance.
It simply broke my heart. Lucy was taken by a stranger, to an unfamiliar place, and all we could do was wave at her. I wrapped my arms around Heath.
I said, in between crying breaths, "I wanna kick that nurse who told me that!"
I wanted to do more than just kick her; but, my motherly, censored mouth came up with "kick" and kept me from calling her a much worse name.
During surgery, I was again oddly calm and optimistic. Being in the colorful lobby was comforting. Staring at the huge banners about being named the number one children's hospital in two areas of practice was comforting. Family was comforting.
The surgeon came out, said it was done, and it went great. I thought to myself that the hardest part was over. I breathed a sigh of relief and couldn't wait to get to Lucy. I just wanted to squeeze her so tightly. I actually sped walked, following closely.
There she was - puffy and still drowsy from the anesthetic. I hugged her and carried her back to her room. I thought that the night would be a peaceful one. Lucy would sleep...well, like a baby. It would be the best night of sleep she had in a long time. After lots of kisses from family, everyone but Heath's mom, Jeannie, left.
Everyone missed it, but Jeannie.
The morphine. Oh my gosh, the morphine. It caused Lucy to have fits. She didn't want anything touching her. She hit us, the bed, her thousands of cords hooked up to her. She rolled around furiously. She'd shout "owwiee" and "mommy". I'd try to pick her and she'd just hit me and push me away. There was no calming her. This happened all night long. We quickly learned that all we could do was move the cords out of her way and keep her from hitting her head on the bed side. Every time the nurses came in for vitals, it happened.
Jeannie left around midnight, and two morphine induced fits.
At around 2 am, I lost it. I bawled to Heath. I hated watching her like that. I hated hearing her yell "Mommy" and not be able to do anything for her. I cried. I cried hard. I stopped holding my tears back and finally allowed them to flow. I allowed the breath to escape from my lungs. I collapsed and emotionally checked out.
Thank God for my brave husband. He took over for the night, keeping the cords out of Lucy's way during each of her "fits". I sat near the couch and watched from across the room. It was a trying night.
They finally took her off the morphine at around 7 am. Then she slept like a rock. She slept like I had imagined she would sleep the night before. She was peaceful and calm. It was nice...until around 4 pm. Then, it became worrisome.
"Is she supposed to sleep this much? Is this normal"
We finally got her to open her eyes for some apple juice around 5 pm. Then, she saw me eating some macaroni and cheese and opened her mouth for some. Ahh....that was my Lucy! Sometime in between bites she fell back asleep.
Lucy slept for over 24 hours straight. It did allow for us to sleep some too.
The next day, our mission was to get her to eat.
We tried all day. It was a slow process; but, it got better with each meal. Her cousin Alex came to visit her too. They were able to go for a wagon ride around the floor. We ended up in the playroom. Lucy was almost herself. It was a wonderful feeling. Besides her puffiness, the bandages and her drain bag, she looked happy.
She still took long naps; but, at least she played in between.
- To Be Continued -
