Tuesday, September 9, 2014

another surgery


Tomorrow, Rachel will have surgery to re-site her g-tube.  In 2006, her g-tube was originally sited higher than normal, and it is now sitting in and around the ribs. Though it is a minor surgery on the spectrum of surgeries, it is still intimidating to consider.  We know the surgeon, and we know there will be familiar faces greeting us and taking care of Rachel tomorrow.

Still, there is anxiety.

Having Rachel and Janneke has forever changed my parenting from what I thought was normal with Em and Soph.  Most days, I don't give any thought to Em and Soph getting sick or breaking limbs, yet, often, I have to fight that feeling of wondering how long Rachel and Janneke will be with us. This is not to say that Rachel and Janneke are so sick -though they are documented as medically fragile, nor am I wasting away in my worry.  To see them with all their cheery chubbiness, the word "fragile" isn't quick to come to mind.

Still, it's a feeling of uncertainty with regards to our girls' life.  When no one can tell you what or why or how about your kid, you wonder the tough questions.  When the girls get a cold, I wonder if they can fight it.  And they have, so far.

Four years ago, Rachel was to have an MRI.  She was to be sedated for the test - typical procedure.  I was very clear with the staff that Rachel's throat structure was unique, and they ought to be prepared for an atypical experience.

Four hours later, Rachel was fighting to live, fighting the bronchial spasms that came from multiple (unsuccessful) attempts to intubate her for sedation.  I wondered if the staff didn't take me seriously when I told them about Rachel. The mother bear in me wanted to ROAR... but I cried.

Needless to say, it's been four years of growth and development for both Rachel and for the field of paediatric intubation.  At last week's pre-op, I was pretty clear on my sentiments regarding the previous experience.  Tomorrow morning, I will be just as clear.

Am I anxious? Yes.  I feel as if the anticipation of tomorrow's experience is like the teacher's red pen, circling the anxiety that I try to tuck away and hide.

Still... Yes, I need to still this anxious heart and trust that Rachel's story and our family's story is not in my hands.  This particular part of our story, like all the other parts, are in the hands of the Great Author, God, who is faithful.  And tomorrow is not the end of the story.

peace,
spot

5 comments:

BLOOM - Parenting Kids With Disabilities said...

Thinking of you and Rachel and always love reading your writing about your experiences. You go in and be the Mama Bear you were destined to be tomorrow -- and I believe they will listen. They've already seen that intubation is challenging for Rachel -- make sure to remind them of that incident tomorrow! I will be thinking of you and hope it goes as smoothly as possible. Please post to let us know afterwards. I am remembering how wonderful it was to meet you when you came to Ian Brown's talk. And it's so long ago now. Will you and family ever be coming to Toronto? Would love to see you again. xo

Teresa Hoogendam said...

Love you guys.

Jacquie said...

Thinking of you, Mama Bear - and praying that the procedure will go well.

Anonymous said...

Wishing an easy and safe procedure tomorrow. Please let us know how it goes! And don't be afraid to MamaBear when needed. That's why we mamas are given the skill. samm in welland

Joanne Tenyenhuis said...

So glad to hear that all went as well as it could today. You keep me ground in perspective that circumstances are not in our control-but His. Mama Bears unite.