|That child birthing class didn't prepare me for this...|
Since Allison has chronicled the ordeal of our family's week on her blog, I thought the only thing to say about it was to share this e-mail I sent to my son - an e-mail he won't read for many years and one which he will probably just shrug his shoulders at since he'll have no memory of what I'm talking about (a fact for which I'm very grateful!)...
Five days ago (Monday) you were diagnosed with a MRSA staph infection (the nasty kind that is resistant to many antibiotics) and we took you to the hospital in Savannah for surgery to have an abscess on your groin that was growing rapidly drained. You were in a lot of pain and your Mom and I were scared out of our minds. I decided to e-mail you about this because I wanted you to know how brave and wonderful you were - the only highlight in what was without a doubt the worst day of your parents lives.
You ate your breakfast at 7AM, but we couldn't give you any other food or water because we knew you'd given anesthesia for the procedure. Despite missing a meal for the first time (two, in fact) and not having a single nap (you usually get two hours of sleep a day at least) you never once complained. You were your usual awesome self, smiling and playing while in your stroller, watching all the various people in the hospital, your Mom fight with your insurance company who didn't want to pay for the procedure, and your Dad who was asking the Doctor one annoying question after another. Finally at about 4:30, we got into a room and the nurse started the process of getting the IV into your arm. Your Mom and I had to hold you down as you started to struggle, as if you knew it wasn't going to be pleasant. As the nurse put the needle in your arm to find a vein to put it in, you cried and screamed ten times harder than you ever had before - I cannot imagine how much pain you must have been in, and how scared you were. I will never forget the look in your eyes - it broke both our hearts to see you like that. Finally after what seemed like an eternity, the nurse got the needle in and started putting the rest of the IV together. If I could have had one wish in the world right then and there, I would have wished for it to be just a few months later, by which time you could understand me when I was telling you that it was going to be over soon, and that we were helping you get better.
After a few minutes the stuff kicked in and you couldn't feel anything. The surgeon came in and did his thing - it was hard to watch but you didn't react to it at all so that made it bearable. He drained as much as he could, then inserted some tubes to keep the incision from healing so it could continue to drain at home. He was in and out in 10 minutes. After he was done you got wrapped up and your Mom held you, waiting for you to come out of your drug-induced haze. About twenty minutes later you were still kinda foggy, but clear-headed enough to be giving us an earful about the IV still attached to your arm. I went and got the nurse and asked her to take it out as soon as was possible, which she did and afterwards brought you an orange popsicle - your first time having one. Needless to say, you devoured it on the spot and your Mom asked her for another since you liked it so much. About an hour later, we were discharged and on our way home. You fell asleep in your car seat before we even left the parking lot.
The rest of the week has been pretty stressful on your Mother and I - she lost her job this week, and we have some very difficult days ahead financially - but mostly because you still had your fever so we have been watching you like a hawk to make sure it doesn't spike (which would indicate a complication) and waiting for it to go away completely (which would indicate the sulfer-based antibiotics you were given had killed the infection). Finally on Friday morning you didn't wake up with a fever - we were overjoyed! You go back on Monday to have the tubes taken out, and hopefully at that point this will all be over.
You handled the most difficult situation you've ever faced with more grace and class than most adults I know. Maybe it's because you didn't know any better - or maybe it's because that's who you are.
I love you,