|(Lunch on the lake, Seattle, WA)|
Monday morning, January 5, arrived with lots of sunshine. Nurses practically danced in and out of our room as my son woke up cantankerous and hungry. A grumpy patient is a good sign! They couldn't believe Giovanni wanted a full breakfast, and they were positively joyful to see that he ate most of his pancakes, all of his bacon, and drank all of his juice.
None of the doctors could believe Giovanni's progress. The surgeon, the attending, the interns . . . EVERYONE was in awe that my little one had so much spunk. It was miraculous.
The Infectious Disease doctor was not quite so impressed. She had trouble reconciling the progress she was seeing with her known facts on disease. She thought Giovanni would be in the hospital at least another two weeks.
The attending however decided it was time to train me to do my son's IV medicine for home health. I confess I really didn't want to. I wanted to go to bed, but the attending smiled at me and offered me a prize I couldn't pass up, "The sooner you learn how to do this by yourself, the sooner we can send him home."
So I learned. The nurses came in to give him his IV meds, and I watched carefully. After two times of watching, it was my turn to try as they talked me through. After two times with assistance, I did it all on my own. From then on, all medicine was administered by me.
I began to get a cough due to all my lying around holding my son, and I didn't want the concerned nurses to kick me out. So I took advantage of my husband or friends visiting. At first I'd run down the stairs and open the door to the nearby courtyard to gulp down fresh air, then quickly run back up the stairs. As Giovanni got stronger I began taking walks to the cafeteria to grab some hot tea. When he slept and no one was around, I would do jumping jacks in the bathroom or run in place. Thankfully the cough went away.
The Children's Pastor came by; volunteers came with books; more friends visited with toys for Giovanni.
The next morning was Epiphany. The surgeon's nurse practitioner came by for the routine assessment and was in awe that Giovanni's lung had finished draining! They gave him morphine and let it take it effect. Then in a blink of an eye as I held him down, the nurse practitioner yanked the tube out of his chest and placed a patch over the hole.
After sleeping off the morphine, my toddler was exhilarated to find that he could at last walk around without the large tube and bag. His discomfort went down considerably! He began taking small walks down the halls with me as nurses clapped and giggled with delight.
That night the Infectious Disease doctor's partner popped her head in the doorway, "He might be able to go home on Friday if his numbers continue to come down." I was elated, called Antonio, and we both praised God with tears of joy.
© 2009-2015 Emily Woodham