He's Out of Surgery

Zane is out of surgery. He went into the whole thing smiling and happy and came out of it—well—unhappy. The gastroenterologist said the endoscopy showed that everything looks normal. However, he took eight biopsy samples to further check for GI issues. The surgery for the ptosis only took ten minutes. Zane is currently wearing an eye shield, which (feisty guy) he’s already tried to pull off. The surgeon said to ask the nurse about arm immobilizers that will prevent him from bending his arms, poking at his eye, and releasing the sutures. I started by using only one, but quickly had to graduate to both of them.

Tomorrow Zane has a last-minute, gastric emptying scan because the gastroenterologist suspects he might have pepsis. So we have to return to the hospital for the two-hour procedure for more fun. We’ll be staying in Denver instead of returning home. Come to find out, a friend of mine from our home town (who I haven’t been in touch with for a month or so until last night) is up here with her sons (has been since May). So she and I are going to get together with the kids this weekend. Listening to her describe her circumstances over the past two months made me realize I have little to complain about. In fact, she stayed at the same extended-stay and had some horror stories of her own.

Anyway, Zane seems to be doing well. He’s only using Tylenol for pain control, which always makes me happy. We’ll see how it goes with the eye shield and the removal of it. I don’t want the kiddo undermining the surgery with his curious fingers.

Change of Plans

We made it to Aurora. A strange and sad energy pervades the area after the recent shootings. We actually shopped at the Target store yesterday, which is across the street from the Town Center where the theater is housed. Apparently, they have a temporary memorial set up there (along with the news media), but we didn’t drive past it. The whole thing is way too sad.

Well, things are not going according to the plan I had laid out in my mind. The Ronald McDonald House in Aurora is filled. We wound up staying at an extended-stay last night. The minute we checked in, a twenty-something guy was on the phone with the Aurora police, stating that he needed an officer to come out because someone stole his “medical” marijuana. There is a touch of the criminal element to this place, so we were hoping for an opening at the RMH this morning. Nothing. Still booked up. So I’ve formulated a change in our plans: if we cannot get in to RMH today, we plan to drive back home on Friday (if Zane is up to it). Then we will stay home for the weekend and return with Justin on Monday in order to make it to Zane’s follow-up appointment on Tuesday morning. We’ll drive back home after the appointment is over. Yes, that is 21 hours of driving, but I refuse to stay here any longer than I need to. It’s pricey to be here eight nights and lacks a lot of the comforts of home. Plus, we didn't pack enough clothes to last the eight days. I had planned on doing laundry at the House. Then there's the shared queen-size bed. While I love Zane's loving touch in the middle of the night and his playful kicks, it makes for a restless night of sleep for me.

Zane has a consultation with a new gastroenterologist today—the one who will do the endoscopy tomorrow. Otherwise, we’re just kind of hanging out, wondering if we should pack up our stuff for a move to the Ronald McDonald House or not. Frankly, I’m ready for all of this to be over, for Zane to come out of surgery without incident, and to be home. He and I will have a month of no travel, then we have to return to Aurora again for his one-month follow-up appointment.

Anxiety

A part of me is dreading the trip next week to Denver. Aside from the anxiety stirring over the surgery, there are other things. Zane and I are going by ourselves, which we’ve done before. It is not easy. The driving part is fine. It’s once we get there. It is just me as responsible party. And I have to lug everything inside the hotel or the Ronald McDonald House while keeping Zane with me: the suitcases, the medical supplies, the Tumbleform chair—all while pushing/pulling Zane along, too. We must make ten trips between the car and the room. Needless to say, a lot gets dropped. If we stay at the Ronald McDonald House, I have to do grocery shopping. Have you ever tried pushing a cart and a wheelchair at the same time? It’s not easy. But that will be us, running into ankles and smashing toes; receiving stares and sympathetic smiles. I know it sounds like I’m complaining. I’m not. Over the past five and half years, I’ve grown used to all that comes with having a child with significant medical needs. I just needed a place to put my waxing anxiety. This seemed like a good place. On a positive note: we're going when the passes are clear and the weather is manageable; I'll have some special time with just Zane, have a little time to work. Maybe we'll even go to the zoo if we can find our way there. Though, I’ll be glad when August arrives and we’re back home. *Fingers and toes crossed for an easy and uncomplicated pre-, post-, and during surgery.*

Endoscopy

In addition to the surgery for his ptosis later this month, Zane also has to undergo an endoscopy. For about a week, the additional fluids from the Pedialyte seemed to significantly reduce his retching. Unfortunately, it has returned. I thought—perhaps—the pediatrician would tweak some additional things with him: medications, lengthening his feeding times, etc. But she’s decided to go right to the endoscopy. Zane’s regular gastroenterologist does not practice out of Children’s Hospital, so he has to see a new doctor this time around. Zane will have a consult the day before the surgery and anesthesia, then have the endoscopy at the same time. He and I will be in Denver for over a week. Not sure what we’re going to do in between the surgery and the follow-up appointment a week later, but we’ll figure it out.

As always, good thoughts and prayers are thoroughly appreciated for Zane.