Aimee and I are both very fortunate to work for the U-M Health System, and in our respective roles we support its mission. But today, we saw the other side of the curtain as we took our baby, Simon, to C.S. Mott Children's Hospital for his first surgery.When he was 3 months, Simon developed a blemish on his left cheek. It eventually hardened, and both his pediatrician and a U-M plastic surgeon thought it might be some kind of cyst. So, today, June 4, 2010, our baby boy went under the knife. Now, we both know that hundreds of children come to Mott every day for things much, much worse than the removal of a cyst. But for as parent, any trip to the hospital is a frightening experience. At the end of the day, the surgery was a success, Simon came through it like a champ, and he is sleeping comfortably in his crib as I type this.
So, onto the day's events. We were told to report to Mott at 7:30 a.m. After about a half-hour, Simon was ready to go back and begin pre-op. Much of the pre-op involved getting his weight (29 pounds, BTW), blood pressure and other vitals, and keeping an 18-month-old amused and distracted at the same time. He was a good boy, for the most part, as a bevy of nurses, anesthesiologists, and other hospital team members came in to perform their pre-op checklist.
Things really got serious when one of the nurses suggested giving Simon a sedative to calm him and get him ready to go back in the OR. Now, he wasn't being bad, but they said it simply calms kids and gets them prepped for the IV, etc. It was then that we knew our little newt would be snatched away soon. Sure, enough, as Aimee held him, in just a few minutes he was loopy and looking like a punch-drunk boxer. Then, the anesthesiologist came to take him and with one simple sentence diffused our sadness as he took Simon in his arms. He said, quietly, "I will treat him just like he was my own." Through a little tears, as well as some relief that things were finally underway, we made our way to the waiting room.
As we waited downstairs in Mott, they, like other hospitals, have a screen where parents can follow the surgery progress of their children. They said it would probably be a 30-45-minute procedure and, sure enough, the screen showed him in recovery not long after we went downstairs. But, both Aimee and I will admit to a little uneasiness as he was in recovery for a long time, seemingly a half-hour or so. You begin to think terrible things the longer you wait, like "what if he isn't waking up," or "what if something went wrong in the surgery." Another family who went into the OR at the same time were called up 15 minutes before we were, and that added thoughts to our wandering minds. But, we perished any lingering bad thoughts a few minutes later when we were paged and on our way to the recovery room.
Once there, we saw our little angel still hooked up to an IV with the smallest little bandage on his cheek and still very much out of it. But, he was awake and we were relieved to see his face. However, any thoughts that this would be a quiet little recovery were quickly put to rest when Simon became agitated at just about everything. He was bound and determined to get his IV out, and he was going to take it himself. Finally, one of the nurses took it out and she, and a few of her fellow nurses, spent the better half of the next half-hour trying to calm poor Simey down. He was screaming, crying and thrashing, and although he calmed down a few times, generally he wanted to be anywhere but the third floor of Mott Hospital. Finally, Dr. Kasten came by to talk with us. He said the procedure went well, but that the mass was not what he thought it was originally. Still, he was not worried about it, and we will find out at our follow-up visit what pathology says.
Simon was quickly discharged and I am sure the recovery unit sounded like crickets after we left. The nurses told us his appetite would probably be slow in coming back; an hour later, he was taking down a grilled-cheese sandwich, banana and some goldfish snacks. Our boys don't really subscribe to the norm when it comes to what they should be doing at their age or in their condition.
We let him play in relative peace for a few hours, while Harmon stayed at his Nana and Papa's house -- where he had spent Thursday night. Although he was playful and talkative, we knew he must be tired and, sure enough, he slept from 2-5 p.m. Mommy and Daddy stole some winks, too. At the end of the day, we met Aimee's parents to collect our firstborn and came back home. The boys got to bed a little late, but all told things are back to a nice normal here.
In the end, all went as planned and Simon is on his way to a full recovery. His face looks worse than it really is because of the bandage (see photo), but he has been in no pain and is sleeping peacefully. None of this would be possible, we know full well, without the great people at Mott. As I said earlier, we work indirectly for many of these great people on a daily basis, but until today we had never seen their faces. They put us at ease, calmed our fears and, most importantly, took care of our son.
I am sure we will go down in the files as another routine surgery in another routine day. But for us, we will never forget today's trip to Mott and for what our colleagues did for Simon. You might say that it is their job. I say no one does it better!
