Working our way up to September 17th.....
Tuesday morning my boy's chest x-ray looks rough. I don't quite know what I am looking at but even I can tell something isn't right in there.
The doctor and nurse practitioner pull me aside to talk to me about intubation.... if you aren't sure what the means let me save you the Google search. They put a tube in your mouth and down your throat that breaths for your body. SCARY. Breakdown number 43 for momma bear. They tell me they will give him meds to make him sleep, meds to relax his body and calm his mind. All I can hear is.... he won't be breathing anymore on his own. Really what more do you need to hear? I agree that if this will get him better... then do it. BUT, and this is a big one, they must talk to the boy first. They must explain to him what they are doing and why. After I snot all over myself and pretend three or four times to pull myself together.... back in his itty bitty room I go. Chin up and all that jazz.
Boy.... I know you are scared and tired. Your lungs are tired too. The doctors want to give you some medicines to help you sleep and help you breath. I will be right here and the doctors will explain it all to you. I think we need to do this, but you decide. In walk the medical team. The beautiful medical team surrounded his bed while I held his hand. They showed him each medicine, named it and explained what it does and WHY he needs it. He listened intently turning the viles over and over in his hands....so if I let you do this, when I wake up I can go home? "As soon as possible. This will allow your body to heal quicker" The boy lays back and says, wake me up when I can go home. Within just a few minutes he is asleep and I'm whisked away so they can do their medical magic.
I had a lunch date in the cafeteria with one of my dear friends. The grandma got in from the sunshine state.....but things had changed. Last she knew her boy was talking and on oxygen.... now he was in a medical coma. It was hours before I could see my boy again. And I wasn't ready for what I saw.....that itty bitty room was so much smaller. So many machines.
That night I was under doctor's orders myself. They allowed the grandma and I to take one of the Ronald McDonald rooms in the hospital to rest. I was told he was safe and OK, I needed to rest. He needed me to rest. I slept 6 hours that night. Six long glorious hours...in a bed! It wasn't my bed but there was room to roll over, and that my friends is a first world problem I am so glad I have.
For three days my boy slept and healed. His lungs started to look a little better. His liver, kidneys and spleen were healing. Oh yeah, I forgot... those were a mess as well. But the lungs not working trumped everything else. The doctor decided it was time to start weening him off the meds one by one so he could wake up.
Teenagers are a dramatic mess. Girls, God help us all.... I can't imagine and I'm thankful for my boy. My boy is an old soul, he is a quiet introvert. He is weird. And I love every weird little cell of him. I don't see what is so weird about him... but I'm weird too. I tell you all that to tell you... I could not WAIT for him to wake up and tell me to stop when I got a little too excitable and weird. The grandma just wanted to see him roll his eyes. Little by little my boy started to respond by squeezing your hand, shaking his head and then the eyes. Those grey- blue eyes opened, just a little bit and just for a second. But there they were. Breakdown number gazillion for me.
Thursday night/ Friday morning I leave the boy's room to go take a middle of the night shower and breath a bit. I say.... no wild parties and behave yourself. He so didn't listen! An hour later my phone rings, the boy is asking for you. He.......pulled out his tubes. ^$$$%#$^%% WHAT?!?!?!?! Off I run.
"Hey." He said hey when I walked in the room. Like this was just any other day. I can't help but laugh, didn't I say behave? "I pulled out the tubes, guess I was done with them."
No comments:
Post a Comment