Gentle Reminders

The circumstances were quite different, but there we were once again sitting helpless in a surgical waiting room awaiting Dr. G....

The morning started out very early. 4am to be exact. All the pre-op requirements were clock work to me. They were steps to a dance that I had seemingly performed (and mastered) 1000x prior. There is a numbing. A rawness. A cold heart....just doing its job....again, with every hospital admission. Caed was being, like always, a rockstar. He as well knew the drill. Answered the questions. Held out his arms, fingers, and any other extremities when needed as though he was simply tying his shoes. Unphased. I was taken back to the days when he experienced a severe case of white-coat syndrome. Or "ANYONE walking into the room" syndrome. Doctors, nurses, techs, cleaning ladies..... He would fight, cry, beg, kick, and scream. My little boy was growing up.

I could hear the nurses in the next room saying "no owies!" to a crying child. My only choice was to laugh. OH, how I LOATHED those 2 little words. I'm sure for some children it works like a charm. To those who have experienced a trauma so big....those 2 annoying little words are like fingernails on a chalkboard.

Caed was called back rather quickly (3 hours upon arriving). He was Dr. G's only scheduled surgery of the day. Such a blessing. When it was time, Caed was a rock. The PA came, and we walked together as she pushed Caed's gurney down the hall. We got to the all familiar intersection. This is where you stop, give your final hug/kiss and say, "We'll see you SOON!" Caed did not cry or whimper. Just gave a hug and looked straight ahead at the "Authorized Personnel Only Beyond This Point" sign. As the doors closed behind them, my heart sunk. Something was different this go around. I'm not even sure what it was. This surgery was quick and easy. He was not in any pain. Why in the world did I feel like collapsing right there in the middle of the hallway? I told Todd I needed to find a restroom and I would meet him down in the waiting room soon. As I locked the door, I stood paralyzed. Wanting so badly to allow myself the permission to fall apart. To let it all out! The years of frustration, disappointment, grief, pretend strength, intense fear, and exhaustion. A few tears fell on the floor that morning, but were quickly wiped away. The SuperMom suit was pulled out and strategically put on as I walked out of that bathroom to go find my place in the most dreaded room of the hospital. The clock on the wall happened to be right in my view. I tried so hard not to look at it. The minutes passed and at one point Todd and I both felt.....this is taking much longer than it was supposed to. Your mind races. Hands began to shake. And a restless feeling soon floods your entire body. I knew if I had to sit even one more second listening to Regis and Kelly, I would lose it!

Close to an hour and a half later, Dr. G quickly walks in and makes her way to our little corner. Everything went well. She was, however a little stumped with the "mystery stitch" that ended up being the culprit of this whole ordeal. She said it was very infected and quite long with knots on both ends. She took it out and replaced it with a dissolvable one. She also cauterized the tissue around his g-tube site, which I am super excited about. We haven't seen either site due to the bandages, but hope to in the next 24 hours. Our only main concern is staph. Always a big risk with surgery, so we are taking the antibiotic regimen very seriously.

After we talked briefly about the surgery, the 3 of us sat there in a crowed waiting room and had a surprising conversation. It was one I had dreamed about having over these past 3 years. How I wished it would have been longer. I regretfully wish I had asked certain things. However, it was another divine appointment that the Lord knew I needed.

Dr. G sat there on the couch with her head buried down in her lap. She told us, "....in all of my years practicing medicine, there are a couple of kiddos that stand out. The night I saw your son for the first time (Mar. 1, 2008), I had NO clue what was wrong with him. And it's a night I will never forget. Guys, kids have died on my operating table from bursted appendix. It's 2011! I don't understand that! It shouldn't happen. And your son....should not be alive today. Had you gotten in your car that day and headed back to Celina (as planned), you would not have had a son at the end of the trip. It's that simple. I am completely amazed how well he is doing. I can't comprehend how he avoided transplant and/or the STEP (bowel lengthening surgery) procedure." She sat there for what seemed like an eternity. She was not in any hurry. And talked with us about NE and other children in need of their expertise. As much as I loved talking with her, it was hard to hear. Memories of our time with Dr. G were not good ones. Not because of her, but rather she was there during Caed's darkest days (months).

Todd and I sat there agreeing and chiming in. This was NOTHING new we hadn't heard before. But, to hear her. The one that opened him up that night. The one that God used to save his life initially. To hear an expert in pediatric emergency surgery say to you, "I thought he was going to die that night in the OR......", is incomprehensible. I can't express my heart adequately to communicate how awful those words are to hear. And to hear them AGAIN...3 1/2 years later. We hear all the time what an impact Caed has made on people's lives. He, of course, oblivious to the magnitude his story has had on grown adults. But, for me....to hear he made such an impression on a surgeon. His story is one she said she would "never forget." Do you know how many children she has operated on in her long career? I don't think I would even come close if I took a guess.

It reminds me of how it is to be a parent. You SEE your baby day in-day out. Month after month. Year after year. Sure, you see changes in them. You see all the new things they are learning. But, to be that parent who is around that child every single day....is quite different than being the grandparent or family member who only gets to see the child once or twice a year! The changes are enormous! Your brain still has that child looking and acting a certain way. But, then to SEE something else can be mind boggling. I imagine that's how it is for Dr. G. She knew Caed at his very worst. Even when we left for NE, things were not good with Caed. Over 3 years had passed since their reunion a couple of months ago.

We have been with Caed every day.....since March 1, 2008. Yes, we saw the changes. The good and the bad ones. His healing and rehab have been gradual for us. Quite the opposite for Dr. G!
But to see her amazement, to hear her memories from 2008, were just what Todd and I needed.

It's easy to get complacent. It's easy to agree with people, "Yes, he is a miracle!" But, as his parents, all we see these days is....normal. (other than nightly bathtime) He blends in at school, in sports, at the mall. He is just a regular little 8 yr. old boy to everyone who sees him. He gets in trouble at home just like Reagan and Caleb. Even in class, I find myself just seeing Caed. Not my son, and surely not a boy who almost died 3 years ago! And that's how it should be. To be reminded constantly of the magnitude of his story, can be rather overwhelming. I'm afraid I would be an utter MESS if I did. But, I can think back over the course of these 3+ years and see how God divinely allowed paths to cross, conversations to come about, or circumstances to arise in which He gently reminded me of His great work in Caed's life. "Don't forget....." I can almost hear Him whisper. "Don't get caught up in the little things of this life that don't matter.....Remember My Healing Power! My Mercy! And that I LOVE your son and have a wonderful plan for his life!"

I don't know the future. And yet, my heart tells me this was not the last time we will kiss Caed in the intersection of the OR hallway. This will probably not be the last time we will anxiously sit on the edge of our seats as we eagerly await the sight of a surgeon walking through the doorway. Caed's story is far from over. But.....Lord willing, neither is mine.

Thank you Lord for putting up with my wavering faith. For always having to give me gentle (and other times harsh) nudges to remind me why I'm here. Thank You for Your calling on my life, even though I admit at times....I wish it didn't exist. I get selfish and desire to live life MY way. Forgive me! Thank You for YOUR strength over these last 3 years. I know it comes only from You! Thank You for Your mercy once again on my son and for his continued healing.