Copied and back-posted from our CaringBridge site for permanent record here.
December 8, 2020, 7:00 a.m., written by Mama
This morning when I woke around 5:00 a.m., I went quickly to our own CaringBridge site to read my own surgical report to confirm that the good news was really real. We haven't felt hope like this in a long time.
It is truly mind-bending how perceptions change with changing circumstances. In the wee hours this morning, I watched the three nurses currently assigned full-time to Thomas (most PICU patients get half a nurse) and observed them doing maintenance on all his stuff and doing his body care: my heart swelled at how beautiful he looks. I couldn't help but gush at everyone who comes into this room, "He looks so good! Don't you think he looks good? I think he looks really good." Now, this is our same precious son who is so covered in medical equipment that I have not taken my full-body "daily photo" of him in a week. His abdominal wound is gaping open (covered in blue sponge and plastic wrap) like something I never could have conceived of before this experience. The WoundVac and three drains come out of him, his little bodily fluids flowing along visible in the clear tubing. Of course, he has his breathing tube and OG tube. He has so many venous access points, wires, and tubes that he is truly covered in a tangle of vines. Yet he looks so beautiful to me.
God's providence arranged that Thomas's five-hour surgery occurred last night exactly when the Christmas Posse from church arrived to decorate the outside of our home in lights . . . far more lights than we have ever managed as a family! With only 30 minutes' notice of surgery beginning, we had no idea that these events would line up. It was wonderful spiritually that the Body of Christ came together physically at our home during that time and it was delightful for all of our family to have light-hearted distraction during surgery. This might be something only ICU parents can understand, but there are only so many tears we can shed and nights we can stay awake before our parental physical health is taking a big hit so sometimes maintaining our sanity, being able to sleep to avoid delirium, keeping blood pressure and cortisol low, and holding my panic attacks at bay requires fluffy distraction. After Tom left for the OR, Chris and I said our prayers, but then we enjoyed watching over our home video camera the folks bustling about, drinking hot cocoa, bring us Christmas lights and the light of Christ. We watched a fluffy movie together. We also took an early night nap, knowing that Thomas would arrive back to us late (ended up being 11:00 p.m.) and then the room would be bright and abuzz with activity for a couple of hours.
Today we wake refreshed from four hours' sleep and full of new hope, anticipating a quietly silent day while Thomas's body rests before going back to the OR tomorrow for some small work.
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