The Big Day

Intro
4:30 AM is a very quiet time of day. A perfect time of day to reflect on the challenges daylight hours will bring. Cujo and Rosie are taunted by cats in the shadows of the neighborhood during our morning walk, much like a parent's psyche is taunted by the smells of a hospital and a fit baby surrounded by sickness.

Apparently the health care industry now makes up roughly a quarter of the entire US economy - an economy that exceeds $14 trillion annual GDP. Do the math. The bustle of a university teaching hospital's ambulatory surgery check-in at 6 AM should come as no surprise. There were approximately 6 patients brought up in the elevator to the 2nd floor with us, accompanied by about 8 friends and relatives, for a total of around 15 people in a cramped elevator. The disorganized herd checked into the recovery room area and we waited.

The Wait
Kristina held Eli close as he struggled to understand why he had not yet had his breakfast. Luckily for him, he had plenty of stored reserves to hold him over. Quickly, rocking in their surprisingly quaint rocking chair, Eli fell asleep in Kristina's arms as the attending nurse quizzed us about known allergies and such.

Dr. Woo's resident physician, Dr. Clark, dropped by to say hello and review the procedure. Dr. Clark took out a purple surgery marker and wrote the date and "yes" on Eli's right ankle. Kristina asked him to draw out the pattern of the incision and he did. The dotted line stretched across the top of the foot and around to the bottom, in effect, slicing out the foot while retaining the heel pad to be attached to the bottom of the stump. Kristina candidly asked Dr. Clark, "are you ready?" Dr. Clark, probably younger than either of us, responded with a quizzical declaration of "we're always ready" and flashed an easy smile. Kristina moments later remarked that she hated Dr. Clark and thought him to be an asshole.

Next visited one of our anesthesiologists, Dr. Gauthier, which he pronounced GAH-tee-ay. He informed us that Dr. Pitkin would be our attending anesthesiologist and reviewed some of the basics regarding risk factors, pain medication following surgery, etc. We agreed to his recommendation to do a caudal block, which is an injection to the base of the spine to prolong lower extremity numbness following surgery. I signed a consent form to that effect. Moments later, Dr. Pitkin stopped by and reviewed the exact same procedure as though we had no knowledge of it. I told him that I just signed a consent form to allow that procedure. Communication was not their best attribute. Fortunately, their confidence and obvious love for children surpassed any doubts we may have had.

Dr. Pitkin told us his daughter was 5 days older than Eli. He marveled at Eli's 100th percentile weigh-in (7 mos. 24 lbs.) and called him a "heavyweight" as he carried him off to surgery, fully prepared to spend the next hour trying to find a vein for an IV in the Michelin baby.

I held Kristina as we made our way to the waiting area, expecting a call from Dr. Woo between 9:30 and 10, per Dr. Woo's explicit directions. It was around 10:15 that Kristina told me in 15 minutes she was going to lose it. By 10:45 Kristina was still not in police custody as Dr. Woo called to report the success of the surgery and instruct us to be in the recovery room in 10-15 minutes.

Recovery
Nature hardwires humans to differentiate the cry of their children. A rock concert next to the busiest runway at O'Hare airport could not have deafened us to the sound of Eli's crooning behind the baby blue curtain. We made our way to him and 2 of the quaint rocking chairs awaited us. Kristina rocked as Eli inhaled 4-2oz containers of Pedialyte. His cast stump ensured our surreal response.

Slowly we came to grips with reality. We noticed the tape marks where the anesthesiologists taped his eyes shut during surgery, leaving two large red areas around and on his eyelids. The tape from his intabation tube left tracks of adhesive next to his mouth. An orange beacon signaled the monitors and IV on his left foot. An ace bandage held an IV onto his right hand. Small red dots revealed the mighty effort involved in securing IV ports whereever they could be found. Despite all this, Eli's instant gratification at the presence of his parents was remarkable and gutwrenching.

Eli chugged 8 oz of formula and seemed ready to rest. Within the hour we were whisked 2 floors upward to the Children's Hospital and introduced to our new confines. Our new roommate patient enjoyed his Nickolodeon cartoons at a volume sufficient to be heard down the hallway as his extended family paraded in and out of the room sharing stories of their exploits at Talladega Motor Speedway. We were in good company.

Unfortunately for them, Eli's caudal spinal block wore off around 1:30 PM and the roommates began to feel the wrath of our operatic son as he belt out his greatest hits. Morphine could not come soon enough, nor could the Tylenol with codeine. Soon Eli entered a drugged haze that lasted into the night.

Recovery is slow. Eli perserveres.


-JO