It's funny what you do when you're avoiding packing a little boy's hospital bag. Paint your nails. Scrub the floor. Unnecessary activities. Whatever takes your mind away from lovingly choosing suitable hospital toys or folding tiny, fresh smelling t-shirts that you might not even ever put on him because his head dressing will be so big and his head so sore due to the surgery he will be there to have. I don't ever want to get used to this feeling. I don't want to have to do this anymore- sending my baby off into the hands of mostly strangers. If we have spoken in the last few days, I'm sure you could tell my thoughts are everywhere. The one thing that bothers me most about this surgery as opposed to all the others is that there is seemingly nothing happy about it. Hope is powerful and all the other surgeries provided that. Hopefully he can hear. Hopefully his nerve isn't damaged. Hopefully he is a candidate for cochlear implants. Hopefully the surgery goes well and he can start his hearing journey. Hopefully this infection will clear up. Hopefully they'll save the implant. The hope in regard to his hearing is gone with this surgery today. When he comes out of surgery, he will have been drilled on, poked, and prodded and for what? The hope is that the infection can have a chance to heal when the implant is out. The surgeon disclosed today that he fears the nerve is too damaged to reimplant again. He could try and he wants to do so, but we won't know if it worked until after a new implant is put in his perfect little head. Another surgery potentially. One that might not work. Our case is the cochlear implant community's worst nightmare and I'm sick thinking of that sweet, curly headed little kid having more hurdles to climb. He's a climber, though unlike his mama. I wish you could have seen him scaling his hospital crib while we were waiting on the OR to open up. I've never seen anything like it. My two year old was climbing better than I ever could. We need to get this boy in a climbing gym! I'm left in the waiting room now with my thoughts of him. I know God has his hand on him. I feel your prayers. I'll check in soon.
Thursday, September 3, 2015
Explant
It's funny what you do when you're avoiding packing a little boy's hospital bag. Paint your nails. Scrub the floor. Unnecessary activities. Whatever takes your mind away from lovingly choosing suitable hospital toys or folding tiny, fresh smelling t-shirts that you might not even ever put on him because his head dressing will be so big and his head so sore due to the surgery he will be there to have. I don't ever want to get used to this feeling. I don't want to have to do this anymore- sending my baby off into the hands of mostly strangers. If we have spoken in the last few days, I'm sure you could tell my thoughts are everywhere. The one thing that bothers me most about this surgery as opposed to all the others is that there is seemingly nothing happy about it. Hope is powerful and all the other surgeries provided that. Hopefully he can hear. Hopefully his nerve isn't damaged. Hopefully he is a candidate for cochlear implants. Hopefully the surgery goes well and he can start his hearing journey. Hopefully this infection will clear up. Hopefully they'll save the implant. The hope in regard to his hearing is gone with this surgery today. When he comes out of surgery, he will have been drilled on, poked, and prodded and for what? The hope is that the infection can have a chance to heal when the implant is out. The surgeon disclosed today that he fears the nerve is too damaged to reimplant again. He could try and he wants to do so, but we won't know if it worked until after a new implant is put in his perfect little head. Another surgery potentially. One that might not work. Our case is the cochlear implant community's worst nightmare and I'm sick thinking of that sweet, curly headed little kid having more hurdles to climb. He's a climber, though unlike his mama. I wish you could have seen him scaling his hospital crib while we were waiting on the OR to open up. I've never seen anything like it. My two year old was climbing better than I ever could. We need to get this boy in a climbing gym! I'm left in the waiting room now with my thoughts of him. I know God has his hand on him. I feel your prayers. I'll check in soon.
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3 comments:
I hope everything goes well!
prayers my friend!
Praying for you both.
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