…are a constant when it comes to Sam.
We are now less than two weeks away from surgery.
He’s been having some rough days off and on. His docs had put him on all the stuff a few days ago as a precautionary until surgery. Usually the stuff kicks in fast.
Tonight got tough.
After a phone call, his pulmonologist wanted us to bring him in. No, he’s fine. He’s been much more sick than this and we’ve kept him home. “Do you think he needs a dilation?”, she asked. “Yeah, that’s what I’m starting to think.”, I responded. She ends our conversation with, “I’m sorry.”
She knows. She knows what Sam’s been through. She knows what we’ve been through. She’s knows it better than most. She knows it’s not easy to pack him up and bring him in. She knows he’s likely okay to stay home.
She’s right though. She also knows if he’s inpatient, it will be A LOT easier and faster to get him into the operating room.
She knows his surgery got canceled a few weeks ago. She knows his surgery is rescheduled in less than two weeks.
She called me back before we left our house. “I talked to Dr. Surgeon and Dr. Gastroenterologist. [They both have names, but I like to be respectful of their privacy.] They said between the two of them, they will get Sam on the OR schedule in the morning.”
We are now sitting in the Emergency Room, waiting for a room upstairs. Waiting. Waiting. Waiting. Waiting. Waiting. When you are in the hospital, there is so much waiting. Covid makes the wait even longer.
The lV is in without too much effort. Whew. Sam isn’t always the easiest poke. Although if you could hear him cry, they would have probably heard him a few rooms down. It’s sure a lot more heart braking to watch your child scream, but no sound comes out. It’s something you never really get use to.
Maybe I’ll get some sleep tonight. I just need a little.
He’s sleeping now. That’s all that matters.
Now I know I’m not the only one praying for my family and my sweet little boy.
Tomorrow I will have good news for you.