The week before the surgery I kept having horrible dreams. In each dream I handed Zac off to the nurses and then waited & waited. Each dream ended with a doctor (not our doctor, a different one) coming out of the operating room and saying, "We're having trouble bringing him out of anesthesia." Then I would jolt awake. They were definitely disconcerting dreams but I chalked them up to being a worry wart.
We arrived at the hospital on the day of the surgery super early. We left our house at 4 AM - surgery was scheduled for 7:30 AM but we had to be there at 6 AM. The anesthesiologist came in and talked to us, the surgeon came in and talked to us, and the surgery nurses came in to introduce themselves and take him back to get all the pre-op stuff started. I don't know that I can accurately describe how horrible it feels to kiss your baby, hand them off to a nurse, and watch them walk away. I don't know how parents whose children have to have multiple surgeries do it. I know there's so many more horrible feelings in the world and that it was a just a routine surgery, blah blah blah...but I still felt a terrible sinking feeling, and a desperate urge to run after them and grab him back. The doctor reassured me and told me he would take the best care of him, and I knew he would. He is seriously the most confident man I have ever met and there is no one else I would rather having operating on my sons.
My husband and I went downstairs and got some breakfast while we were waiting and then headed back to the surgery waiting area. We played on our phones, talked quietly, and glared at the constantly running fountain that incited bathroom visits. An hour or so after he was taken back, the surgeon came out and said that everything went great. He said that they would come out and get us in five minutes or so and then we could go see him. I was insanely relieved. My dream was just a big bunch of worrying for nothing.
Minutes ticked by. Ten minutes, twenty minutes, a half hour. My husband said, "Do you think they forgot about us?" An emergency code was called over the intercom and that was a little frightening sounding, but as far as we could tell it was in a room on the other side of the hospital. Almost forty five minutes had passed and I was beginning to feel panicky. Our doctor came out again and said, "Did they already come out and talk to you? They had some issues when they took him off the anesthesia." (At this point, I was like five seconds from bolting back to his room.) He went on to say that when they took all the breathing equipment out, Zac had some respiratory issues - he'd started coughing & gagging and sounded croupy. They gave him a breathing treatment and a shot, so they wanted to observe him awhile longer but that we could now go back and see him.
We went into his room and he was sleeping on his side, all scrunched up into the corner of the bed. I climbed in and picked him up. He was so groggy and out of it. He woke up a tiny bit here and there and nursed a little. The doctor, nurses, and anesthesiologist all came in to check on us. They talked briefly about keeping him overnight but his breathing improved greatly within an hour or two and we were finally free to go home.
They said to make him rest the remainder of the day and then take it easy for at least a week but you can't hardly keep this little guy down! I did make him rest and TRIED to get him to take it easy but now that he's walking there's almost no stopping him. He's recovering very well and has a check-up next week that should be a breeze! We received a nice little card from his nurses and the other staff this week wishing him a good recovery. I really appreciate all the thoughts & prayers everyone on Twitter & Facebook sent our way.