Yep. it's just like that

On Friday, we went over the details for Ty's spinal fusion surgery with the hospital. During the course of his chemo treatments, we discovered a few more allergies. Thank heavens for the technology to keep track of it all.

The only touchy thing (besides the risk of anaesthesia and infection) is the fact that he will require a minimum of two units of blood. He had an allergic reaction the last time he had a transfusion, so they will automatically give him steroids during surgery.

I am really hoping this is the last surgery he will need. It would be nice for him to get back to the business of being a kid rather than a patient. He is a very patient patient. That sentence doesn't look right, but it's true. He has handled everything life has thrown at him so far with an amazing amount of patience.

I wish the same were true of me.

Ty is the surgeon's only case that day, so surgery is going to be really, really early. (have another comma, won't you?) We had requested a wonderful anaesthetist who will unfortunately be out next week. I am so tempted to email her because my boy is going to be under for 8 hours and she is really that fabulous! And how could she resist coming in to work with Ty? Because he is really that fabulous, too.

Depending on the weather, we may need to leave earlier than 5 am - but that's okay, I won't be able to sleep that night anyway.

It's sort of like the night before the first day of school or the night before grades come out. You lay there looking up at the ceiling, wondering if you'll be able to find all of your classes or be able to open your locker, and hoping that the ground will swallow you up if no one sits by you at lunch except the girl whose milk comes out of her nose when she laughs like Horshack from "Welcome Back, Kotter" or worse! what if you get an "F," how will you face your parents and how long will you be grounded from the phone? Breathe.

Yep, it's just like that.

The absolute worst part of any surgery is when you turn your child over to the anaesthesiologist and they walk through those double doors. And then they close, and the panic-stricken thought comes to your mind: "Will that be the last time I see him (alive)?"

Yes, it's a little dramatic, but it happens every time. Then just a few moments later, I have the calm reassurance that he will be alright. And he always has been. Every time.

But this time, he will be coming out of surgery on a ventilator and going to ICU, I've never seen him that way before. Part of me is feeling a like a big chicken right now. Everything will be alright; it just has to be. Because that's the way it works for Ty.

I recently ran into someone who asked after Ty, and I told her his tumor was still getting smaller. We talked about the natural products he's taking, and then she reminded me that it doesn't hurt that he has 500-600 people praying for him.

She's right, you know. We'll seek every advantage we can get, so please keep him in your prayers. His surgery is Wednesday and he'll be in the hospital for about a week and a half.