Tomorrow... maybe

On Tuesday, we thought surgery could be 'tomorrow... maybe' and then Wednesday came and no surgery. So they spent yesterday working to optimize his numbers and monitoring how he was doing and we were told surgery could be 'tomorrow... maybe.' We arrived at the hospital this morning with anticipation. I stood and listened as the team did rounds on our Samuel and the end result was 'tomorrow... maybe.'

The good news is that the 'tomorrow' in this case sounds more definite than it has. That's about as certain as anything can be with our Samuel. Cardiology and surgery came to speak with Chris and I, something they haven't really done since before the infection sprouted last Friday night. The tone around sending him to surgery is more excited and positive and less tentative. That said, we have learned that things change in the blink of an eye and we need to be ready for anything. 

The feeling now is a little like when we were waiting for Samuel to be born. The surgery has to happen. It is an inevitable next step, whether tomorrow or soon after. It is a good thing that he get a chance to show us what he can do with his insides not all mixed up. And yet it is risky, this next phase. He might not come out okay. He might die in the operating room or he might be too sick to recover afterwards and we will lose him then. Or he might rally and show us how strong he is - just like he did in the last operating room he wasn't expected to make it out of.

I cannot tell a lie... I am too scared to be scared. I am in auto-pilot, feeling kind of nothing, not really able to talk. I am exhausted and my body is choosing now to let me know that it might just want a little rest and recovery after having come through a really hard pregnancy and major surgery. So this evening I rest at home with boys all around me - Daniel playing Nintendo next to me, Zachary on the floor drawing pictures of our family of six under a protective rainbow, Jakey running in and out with various pretend weapons, Chris warming up the dinner dropped off by a neighbour. My littlest boy rests in his hospital bed with capable nurses who love him.

I dreamt last night that I was walking through markets and visiting castles in Italy. Things kept breaking and I kept finding myself on my knees picking up pieces of coloured glass, broken tile, bits of wood. I gently collected all I could each time and this kind man kept appearing and saying calmly, "It's okay, we will fix it. We will fix it." Fragility, hope, comfort. We don't exactly need to call Dr. Freud on this one, do we.

Tomorrow morning there will be more blood work before they give the all clear. The cardiologists, surgeons, intensivists and anesthesiologists will all have to meet to agree that he is ready and then surgery would likely take place mid- to late-afternoon. I will make a quick post to the blog when Samuel goes in... tomorrow... maybe... :)