I thought that the waiting was the hardest part. And it still will be hard, but I think there might be a harder part. But first, just the facts update.
The surgery went well today - lasted about 2 hours, about what they thought. They put in the central line for future IV/meds, and got a good tissue sample to give to the pathologist. They drained some fluid, and also patched up the rupture in the mass itself - they had previously told us they thought it had ruptured, which was causing some of the breathing issues, and aggressiveness. So for that part, the surgery was very good.
They told us pre-op that they may keep him in ICU overnight for observation, depending on how his breathing was. But right before the surgery, the surgeon told me they almost certainly would keep him in ICU, so we were expecting that.
We were told we could see him shortly after the surgery, and called us down to the ICU waiting room. But then it ended up being about an hour and a half later.
And thus we get to what very well may be the hardest part: seeing my little boy all wired up and a small army of docs and nurses in that ICU. There are a lot of other kids there too, and some in isolation rooms, so, again, there are others who have it worse. But seeing the iodine-streaked torso, wires, tubes, and machines all over the place, and a little boy in the midst of it, was hard.
They told us it took longer to get him ready for us because he "self-extabated" (I don't know if that's how you spell that). They had a breathing tube in, which was planned, and they planned to monitor him to see when they'd take it out. But somehow he forced it out himself. (Good strong boy, there, D!) So they had a little round tube, like a mini-straw, keeping the airways open under the oxygen mask, since he forced their hand in terms of keeping the oxygen going.
And then they told us that they also put in a chest tube so that they could drain fluid from his lungs. The fact that they're doing that is ultimately good, but that's the scariest part for me - how will we know that it won't fill up again, and what's causing that? But they don't seem too concerned by it, so I guess I can't be either.
But seeing him wired up, knowing that he's going to wake and hate where he is, and we won't be able to pick him up and console him, that's the hardest part right now.
On the plus side, we're hoping to have pathology reports by tommorrow afternoon, or Tuesday at the latest. Then we'll actually be able to start talking treatment.
I'm going to go check on him right now. Keep praying for a miracle, and for God's will to be done, not ours.
That's probably it for tonight. No pictures tonight.