The Waiting Game

Everyone deals with stressful situations differently and waiting through the surgery of a loved one is probably one of the most stressful situations anyone can deal with, especially when that someone is your 15 month old child.

Of course when we announced Owen was going to have brain surgery, many of our family members assumed we’d want them to wait with us, to be there to support us at one of the darkest times of our lives.  That, however, was the last thing either Owen’s dad or I wanted.  Ridiculous as it may sound, the thought of a bunch of people waiting with me stressed me out.  I would feel the need to talk to them, entertain them, and collectively wring our hands.  I knew that all I would really want to do on that day was to retreat within myself and find a mindless actively to distract me.  I don’t know if they liked it or not, but everyone respected our wishes.

During the six hours or so that Owen was in surgery (truth be told, I don’t remember anymore how long the surgery was, but it was at least that long) I sat on my laptop computer doing a variety of things.  I online shopped.  I know that sounds awful, but that’s what I did part of the time.  I didn’t buy anything, just looked at stuff and filled my cart with no intention of purchasing anything.  It was oddly soothing.  Owen’s dad, on the other hand, watched movies.

I also checked into our Caring Bridge page.  I had heard about this just before Owen’s surgery and it turned out to be a godsend.  It was a great way to keep everyone updated with what was going on without having to make a million phone calls.  It was also nice to read messages people left each time I posted an update.  It was a great way to have human contact without giving up my quiet solitude.

We got calls from the OR, from time to time, to keep us posted as to where they were in the process and to let us know how Owen was doing.  I don’t recall if we knew ahead of time they would be doing this, but I was so grateful when we got the first call and looked forward to each subsequent call we received.

After several hours (again, I don’t remember exactly how many), we got the call that the surgery was done and Owen was doing well.  Needless to say, it was a great relief.  Shortly after that call we met with the surgeon who talked with us further about the surgery and how it had gone.

We were also told that we would get to see Owen soon, as soon as they got him to his room in the PICU.  While I couldn’t wait to see him, I was also scared about what I would see.  How would he look?  He had just gone through brain surgery after all.  I had never had a similar experience, so I wasn’t at all sure what to expect.

Finally, the the time came when we could see our little boy.  Walking into the room, I was horrified to see him with his swollen head and giant “C” shaped incision.  They told us all about the surgery and what the incision would look like, etc, but nothing could prepare me for what I saw.  My first reaction was to cry.  It was very hard to see him like that.    Luckily Owen was still out of it and spent the rest of the day sleeping.  I thought about what he would think when he woke up, about the pain he’d likely feel.  It was a very hard place for a mother’s mind to go.  We had to make this decision though.  We felt there was no other choice.  We had to make the seizures stop.  We were told it was his best shot at a more normal life.  Because he was still so young, I thought it unlikely he’d have any memory of what had happened that day.  I hoped and prayed that would be the case.  I hoped that he wouldn’t hate us some day for this decision we made for him and the deficits he’d have as a result.

It was a long day.  One of the longest days of our lives.  We hoped the worse was over and this day would be the beginning of much better days.