No matter what you are prepared for, it’s never enough. Ryan’s hydrocele operation was Thursday morning. I had no doubt the surgery would go well. I was anxious about my little guy getting anesthesia, but we were at one of the best children’s hospital in the country, so I was pretty confident nothing would go wrong during surgery.
And nothing went wrong.
Ryan went into the surgery with a little cold. By Thursday night, his little cough was getting worse. It was a hoarse cough that seemed to get deeper as the night went on.
Friday morning Ryan slept in. He woke a little before 8 a.m. and he could hardly breathe. His chest collapsed as he took each breath.
By 9 a.m. we were at the pediatrician. Over the course of the next hour, she administered two breathing treatments and gave him an oral steroid. Nothing was working.
“I think he should go to the hospital,” she said calmly. “I can call an ambulance … but I it might be best if you just take him. I’ll call and let then know you’re on the way. If he has an attack on the way to the hospital, call 911.”
As fast as I could, I was on the way to the hospital. The same one I was at the day before, but this time I was going in through the emergency room.
Within seconds of walking in the door, a doctor took his vital signs. A few minutes after that, we were in a room.
Ryan and Daddy in the emergency room.
They took neck X-rays to make sure his airway wasn’t damaged when they incubated him during surgery.
His airway was not damaged.
He sounds like he has croup, maybe exacerbated by him being incubated the day before, they said, but it’s hard to say.
“We’d like him to stay overnight for observation,” the ER doctor said.
Of course, anything you need, we will do.
Soon after being admitted to the hospital room for overnight observation.
Ryan was given an oral steroid used to help keep his airway open and he was monitored all night. Every four hours a nurse came in, checked him, took his vitals and updated us. Ryan slept through the night. I did not.
Saturday morning at 10 a.m. the doctor told us Ryan could go home. We left with what seemed like hundreds of pages of instructions.
I just put him to bed. His breathing is still labored, but it’s 100 times better than it was Friday morning. Through this entire ordeal, Ryan has been a trooper.
After his surgery, my intention was to write a post about how appreciative I was of the hospital, how every aspect of my child’s well-being was cared for exactly as I would expect it to be. While Ryan was in surgery, Jon and I were updated every hour, on the hour, by volunteers given information from the operating room. Ryan’s progress was monitored on a computer screen in the waiting room. As soon as the surgery was over, the surgeon came to see us and gave us a detailed account of what happened and how we should care for him for the next several days. As soon as Ryan was in recovery, we were escorted to him where we held him as nurses talked to us and took care of Ryan’s needs.
I wanted to write about how thankful I was that we were there for such a minor surgery when so many other families were there for so much more.
But that post didn’t happen. This one did.
Yes, I am upset Ryan is sick, but it wasn’t the hospital’s fault. In fact, this experience has made me even more appreciative of the hospital.
I could never say thank you enough to every one at the hospital.
I am tired. Jon is tired. Ryan is tired. All I want to do is rest, physically and emotionally. But that won’t happen until Ryan is feeling 100 percent.