Monday, March 25, 2013

Surgery Day

This morning Sam fasted from 5.30am, in preparation for him to have the Fontan surgery.

We presented to the Day Unit at the Mater hospital at 8am and prepared for a long wait.  We were unsure as to whether Sam would indeed have surgery today, as they were making a space for him and it depended on many factors including bed space.  Like clockwork we watched each of the pieces fall into place.  Paperwork done, observations done, anesthetists and doctors came to chat. They needed more blood from him, but agreed to do it while he was asleep in surgery.  A volunteer even spent all morning with the kids in the waiting room and played with them to keep them occupied before surgery.

At 11.15 we were taken to the preparation room and did the final checks ready for surgery.

At 11.30 Sam and I were escorted to the theater after he said goodbye to Daddy and Jack.  He wanted them to come too, but they could not.

He was happy to see all of the doctors and even happy to sit in on the bed.  he thought the bubble gum smelling gas mask was funny and played with it, until we had to keep it on.  Then he didn't like it and fought hard to get it off.  In the end we had to lightly restrain his arms and legs while tears ran from the corners of his eyes, while my own heart felt like it fell out and the ground swallowed it. 

I kissed his wet little cheek as he drifted off to dream land, let go of his hand and was escorted back to Don and Jack.

The surgery will take 3-4 hours.  We will then be able to go and see him in ICU where he will be at least the next few days.

Even here in this place we have peace.  Peace in the knowledge that God had this day planned down to the second.  Not one detail escapes his notice.  So even though I feel broken that Sam has to endure such a thing, I have tremendous hope that exceeds and overshadows all fear.  Because when I close my eyes I see things differently.

When I take him into surgery....I close my eyes and see him smiling and playing like never before.

When I kiss his wet little cheek..I close my eyes and see him going to Kindy and school and playing with his friends.

When I see him drift off...I close my eyes and I see him in his own bed while I tuck him in snuggly at home.

Yep, hope is what I have, and in God I will trust to do all of this and more than I can imagine.


Anonymous said...

Go Jesus...enable those surgeons to do amazing work and build Sam's heart as strong as an ox!
Blessings and love from Gay-Lea, Garry, Noah & Brynlea. xxxx

Maureen Blokland said...

I have cried with you Nicole as I read your words......Sam is in their hands, But their hands are an extension of Gods work to be performed. Making Sam's heart anew, beating stronger and longer than you could hope for! Love & Blessings, Don, Nicole, Jack & Sam.

Anonymous said...

oh Nicole, as I read this I cried for you and for Sam. I asked How? How can you carry on...and your last paragraph says it all. Hope. Trust. God. :) Bless you all. We pray for you all.

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