Just Wait and See

A blog about hope, despite the disabilities.

Hope the Surgeon Isn't Hungry

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I’m surprised by how relaxed I feel early in the morning on the day of Catherine’s really big surgery. After all the planning, prepping and praying, I feel remarkably calm. As I’m writing this, however, a little spiral of nerves is beginning to spin in my stomach. Oh well. ‘Twas nice while it lasted.

Catherine is expected in surgery about 11:45 AM today. They take here “when they’re ready” so it could be a little later than that, and I’m thinking it will be. Now my biggest concern is whether the surgeon will be hungry while he operates! I’m going to take him an apple and banana and energy bar. If nothing else, he’ll laugh, and that will be good.

He listens to ABBA in his OR. When I asked him why he chose that music, he said, “Because I think it’s happy music, and I like the kids to hear happy music.” Love that!

So, technically, Catherine is having a dega osteotomy and bilateral femural osteotomies. I hope I’ve spelled that right. Her left hip is completely out of socket, so they’ll cut the hip socket to make it cup better to hold the head of her femur in place. Then, he’ll cut her left femur to make it line up correctly. He also plans to cut her right femur so it will be lined up better, too. He does not plan to cut the right hip, fortunately. So, Catherine will have 3 boney cuts this AM and we’re told a month of pain and then 3-6 months of “discomfort” – just a bigger word for pain. I’m not worried about the surgery – well, other than the surgeon being hungry! I’m worried about the pain.

I know many of you who read this blog will pray for her. I really really appreciate the prayers. Knowing many are praying for her gives me peace, and I am confident God listens. When you pray, please ask God to minimize her pain in whatever way he can. And please pray the surgeon isn’t distracted by anything like hunger – ha ha! And of course, that it goes well overall. Thank you very much for the prayers and good thoughts and energy sent her way today.

And God bless Catherine today.

Love,
Ellen

Come on Mommy, Dance!

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Two Mondays ago, we spent the day at AI duPont Children’s Hospital, confirming that Catherine needs surgery. Not just any surgery. A surgery where they will cut her bones on both her hips and one of her legs. A surgery that anticipates enough “discomfort” that Catherine will have to be out of school for a MONTH! And then – we’re told she she should be completely “comfortable” in 3-6 months. What? It makes my skin crawl.

“Discomfort,” of course is a euphemism for pain. And I really bad one, I might add. I just can’t let myself think about that much pain for my little girl. I say, “Bring on the drugs!” Not just for her; for me. Two weeks later, and I still can’t stomach it.

Thankfully, Sarah has a way of providing her own drugs for the pain.

When I come home at night, Brian frequently has music streaming through the TV on Pandora. We still play our game as I walk through the door:

Whoooooooo gets kisses first?

Daddy!

Whoooooooooooo gets kisses second?

Cackie!

Whooooooooooooooooooooooooooo gets kisses third?

Sarah!

Giggles and squeals still make this a perfect end to any sort of day. And now there is a new addition.

Sarah starts to wiggle and jump and run around in circles and then yells as loud as she’s figured out her lungs will allow:

Come on Mommy, Dance!

And so we dance. It barely matters what the music is, though fast is always better. We dance and giggle and spin and hug. And the reality is that this drug will do… for now.

Daddy Fix It. With Tape!

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Sarah has recently entered a “tear the page” phase with her books. It’s annoying to me, but she seems to get some sense of accomplishment from it.  She’s torn many pages and Brian diligently fixes them with packing tape.  Somewhere along the line, Sarah started looking at every torn page while saying,  “Daddy fix it… with tape!” She has such enthusiasm for the proclamation. And she emphasizes the “With TAPE!” part every time.

I was driving home alone after dropping both girls at Delrey on the morning of Catherine’s most recent IEP meeting (they were nice enough to let us put Sarah in daycare for the day – and the meeting went relatively well). I took a corner too close to the curb to handle the custom-lowered floor. I wrecked our six-week old van on the ramp door side. Ugh! The ramp wouldn’t deploy. The door barely closed. I didn’t even want to tell Brian.

Of course, I did, and the next morning when we had to all load  up for the trip to school, Sarah patiently stood outside the van and said, “Wait!” because she knew the ramp should come out of the door. It didn’t. We started to move toward the van, and again she yelled, “Wait!” but we had to keep moving so we wouldn’t be late.

I tried to explain that I had broken the van and the ramp wasn’t going to deploy. She looked so confused. She kept wanting to wait, so I finally had to pick her up and put her in her car seat so she could ride to school with Catherine. She struggled and screamed, and I finally said, “Sarah, listen to me.” She usually looks at me when I say that, and she did this time, too. “Mommy broke the van. Mommy broke the ramp. It doesn’t work anymore.”

She looked up at me with big brown eyes and in a split second said, “Daddy fix it! With tape!”

My body was laughing, but my soul shed a tear. Some things just can’t be fixed… With tape!