Captain’s Log. Daddy Chronicles. Diaper Date 1709. Serious post.
Today is a big day.
The Diaper Dweller turns one. This compact hurricane of havoc is a joy in our life and a pleasure to watch. Today is an awesome day and I can’t tell you how thankful the Captain is for it to be here. Truth be told, had it not been for the good people at The Peyton Manning Children’s Hospital at St. Vincent (here in Indianapolis) we might not be celebrating a birthday with him.
When the lad was 6 weeks old, we took him to the emergency room at Peyton Manning with no clue why we were there or what they would do. We were in a room in under 10 minutes and seeing a doctor in under 15. We were afraid that we would just be told that it was colic and sent home. The Diaper Dweller had been screaming for over 12 hours with minor breaks – probably from exhaustion. Yet, there we sat in the ER with no idea of the road ahead.
The staff did an amazing job ruling things out. I heard words like meningitis, brain bleed, and others that I still can’t pronounce or pretend to understand. We took x-rays, did some tests that I don’t remember, watched the boy in his crib, held him as he wailed. Much of it is still a blur.
Those of you who know the Captain know that I like to laugh and find the lighter side of things. I was having a pretty hard time at this point.
The second day we were there (no meningitis, brain bleeds, or other “scary stuff”) we went down to radiology. The Diaper Dweller was subjected to ingesting the chalky yumminess that they use to map the flow of your intestines. I watched the screen and cheered on the gunk as it traveled through his bowels. It was at this point that the radiologist, Dr. Clark, caught that there was something wrong with the path. She wanted to do the test again. She showed me on the screen how the liquid was traveling – it was like a roller coaster with an extra loop. She called in Dr. Kokoska, a surgeon. Both of these doctors were the kindest people you could meet. They were compassionate, calm, and informative – the type of people you want to work with your 6 week old son.
Mrs. Captain speaks doctor much better than I do, so when Dr. Kokoska said that it was a malrotation of the small intestine – she understood. Being an English teacher, I knew “mal” meant bad and I knew what an intestine was, but that was it. Dr. Kokoska was patient enough to draw me a picture and explain what was wrong. He also explained that if they did not operate that it could potentially be fatal.
Operate? Fatal? I just brought this kid home. He had only peed on me once (or twice), hadn’t really puked on me, and slept pretty well. This didn’t seem fair. I didn’t understand. I felt helpless. Worthless.
I shook hands with Dr. Kokoska and he went to work. Two things hit me – he had the ease of someone about to change the oil in my car, but the empathy to understand the depth of our concern.
Dr. Clark checked on us before we took our son to the doors of the operating room (the thought of which still waters my eyes). She was a big source of support as well.
A blur of the History Channel and cafeteria food eased the moment a bit. The waiting sucked. No other way to describe it. It is amazing how fast the mind works and how hard it can be to distract it.
I can’t remember every detail, but I remember being elated when Dr. Kokoska returned and told us that it was a success. Our son would have a scar, but he would be alright.
The tense moments were not over. At one point we had to have a subclavian line(sp?) inserted because the pik line and femoral line would not stay in his little hand. I might have been more nervous about that than the other operation.
Dr. Bricker and Dr. Vonderau took great care of us. They dumbed down the information for me, and answered all of Mrs. Captain’s questions. I can’t tell you how awesome they were.
The nurses were unbelievably awesome. They made sure that we took care of ourselves in addition to looking after the boy – at one point demanding that we sleep or eat.
After 11 days we were able to bring him home.
He is a year old now. I am thankful for every cry, dirty diaper, scrape, and broken object that he leaves in his wake.
By far it was the scariest time in my life. It had a big impact on the The Eldest as well. She wanted to know where her brother was. Why he wasn’t coming home. Where mommy or daddy were. It was a pretty hard time for her.
I cannot express my gratitude enough to the staff at Peyton Manning Hospital. In my opinion, they are all saints.
I would like to thank Peyton for his partnership with the hospital. No, we did not see him during our stay (he was going through some medical trials of his own at the time), but it was obvious that he was more than a name on a building. For that I am thankful.
I would like to thank the staff at Peyton Manning for their professionalism, expertise, compassion, and patience. I hope that we never need to see you again, but I am thankful that you are there in case we do.
And I know that it is past Mother’s Day, but Mrs. Captain was the first to know that something was wrong. I am thankful she is the mother of my kids. I know it was an equally hard time for her as well. She was a rock and is a rockstar mom.
I apologize for the nostalgia and the sentimental trip down memory lane. This is usually a place for humor, but today I have to pause and give thanks for the blessings I have. God is good. Happy Birthday, Diaper Dweller, and here’s to many more!
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