08 February 2017

Preparing for tomorrow's hospitalization

I have been overwhelmed by the outpouring of love and support from friends and family since my last post about our scheduling Bennett's 8th surgery.  Thank you to all who reached out, to all who asked how to help and to those who are praying for us.  It has been very meaningful to be reminded we are not alone in this journey.

The time has come.  We are packing for the hospital once again.  Heading in tomorrow.

Bennett is doing well - a bit subdued and hesitant but hopeful for this next surgery.  He has been asking almost daily: "is tomorrow when I don't eat??" "is it this week and I can't eat anything?"  I know he's nervous.

As I put him down to sleep a few nights ago, Bennett said to me, "mom, I'm feeling a bit lonely."
"Why?" I inquired.
Bennett answered, "I feel a bit lonely about surgery because when I go back, you can't go back with me. That room is so bright and the table is so cold and hard.  It's where they do the surgery.  And you can't go with me."

My sweet seven-year-old was talking about the Operation Room, which neither Brian and I are ever allowed to enter.  I responded to his fears, "I'm never far away. My heart is always with your heart, Bennett.  A part of me always goes with you.  I'll be with you in there and I'll be waiting for you with Daddy for when you get out."

I agreed that the operating table is too hard and cold and suggested I ask the nurse to allow him to lie down on a blanket on top of the operating table, just until he's asleep.  He seemed happy with that.

But Bennett isn't the only one to worry.

Tonight, the boys wanted to know the plan for the next few days.  Oliver, age 9, listened intently as I explained what would be happening to Bennett in the coming days ("he will be given an IV"..."he will go in to surgery early Thursday"...etc).  Oliver listened until I finished and then said, "and so you know for sure nothing is going to go wrong, right?"

In effort to reassure him there was no reason for alarm, without skipping a beat, I said, "no, I don't know for sure nothing is going to go wrong...

But I do know a few things for sure: We have very good doctors taking care of Bennett.  Pops is a doctor so if we need anything he will be here to help us. Daddy and I will be with Bennett and will work hard to address anything if it goes wrong.  And everyone is taking extra care to make sure things go as planned."

Oliver seemed satisfied by my answer, just as Bennett was willing to accept my response.  But I know their hearts are anxious.  Hospitalizations are hard on the entire family.  We are all split up.  Life as normal is different for a while.  It makes each of us sad.

Even Avonlea, 3 years old, feels it.  She asked today, "what if I cry when you are gone?"  I looked down at her big blue eyes staring back at me and said, "If you cry, Mumsy will be here to hold you.  And then you can call me and I will talk to you on the phone."

Some part of me is able to recognize this hospitalization, like the others before, will go by and be over soon.  But, for our family, surgeries last much longer than the scheduled operating window and hospitalizations last much longer than the multiple days we are admitted.  They last for a long time on our hearts and in our minds.  And it seems like just as we feel they start to fade, we face another to prepare for.

Personally, I feel sad...but ok.  We are prepared for this one.  I hope it to be as easy as a bowel resection can be.

Bennett won't eat tomorrow.  Bowel prep isn't fun for adults but even more isn't fun for children.  He will be a very brave champ tomorrow.

Updates to follow,

1 comment :

  1. I have your sweet family in my heart! I'm praying for you guys.


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