Tubes & Lines & A Whole Lot of Tears

We had a déjà vu moment today, when we were handed a bundle of screaming nude baby wrapped in soft bunny rugs. Only today, the screaming baby brought tears of sadness and heartbreak, and not tears of joy and exhilaration.

You see, the last time someone handed me a bundle of screaming nude baby wrapped in soft bunny rugs was the day Sean was born. Sean was born via an emergency C section, so Jonathan was able to see Sean and take all the photos before the doctors bundled Sean up and brought him to me for cuddles. No words could describe how happy and excited and over the moon I felt when I held my perfect little man in my arms that day.

Today, I felt sad and scared and heartbroken.

14 months ago, the sounds of our perfect little man's cries assured us and the doctors that he had a healthy set of lungs. They were the unmistakeable cries of a newborn, annoyed with the move from his very own warm swimming pool and all day buffet to the bright lights and cold air of the operating theatre. Once in our warm arms, our kisses soothed his cries and our soft voices lulled him to sleep.

Today, the sounds of our perfect little man's cries assured us and the doctors that he had emerged from his first ever general anaesthesia without any problems and the drugs were wearing off. They were the unmistakeable cries of a baby in a great deal of pain, and even in our warm arms, our kisses were not enough to soothe him and our soft voices did nothing to lull him to sleep.

Today was the dreaded day Sean would acquire the latest "must have" fashion accessories for kids going for a stem cell transplant - a big fat central line and a bright yellow nasogastric tube. Even though the procedure was booked a few days ago, I still hadn't fully processed the idea that my little boy was going to have these visible tubes protruding from his body for months. I was also scared by the thought that Sean would have to go under general anaesthesia to have the central line surgically attached to him. I have a history of reacting not so well to general anaesthesia - my blood pressure plummets, as does my core temperature, and my recovery time is generally a lot longer than the "norm", and not knowing how Sean will react to and recover from a general anaesthesia further added to my fears.

Neither Jonathan nor I slept particularly well last night, and he jumped out of bed at 6.30am to get our day under way. Jonathan woke Sean first and brought him in to our bed, which made a lovely way for me to wake up to see my gorgeous little man smiling at me. We got out of bed, packed the final things into the "go bag", showered and got dressed before heading out the door.

The skies must have known what a sad day today was for us, and it gave Sydney a drenching and a half. The overnight heavy rain had not abated at all, and if anything, it had gotten heavier. Traffic on the roads was heavy, and it took us just on 2 hours to complete our usual 40 minute journey from our house to the hospital.

Sean had been fasting since he finished his bottle of milk last night at around 9pm, and he was getting a little bit antsy by the time we settled into our room. As he wasn't allowed any food until after surgery, we gave him sips of water to try and stave off the hunger pangs. The doctors needed more blood from Sean, so a blood sister was organised to come and draw the blood. Sean was fitted with another cannula, which we hope will be the last one for a while. After today, the doctors will draw blood and administer drugs via the central line.

We had visits from what felt like every doctor in the hospital. We met with the anaesthesiologist, the ear nose and throat surgeon who were going to clean out Sean's ears while he was under, and the surgeon who would be inserting the central line. Dr Gray and Dr Percival dropped by, as did Megan and Laura. A lot of people in a very small room, all with information for us to digest.

Just before 1pm, the nurses took us down to the surgical rooms. One of us was allowed to carry Sean into the rooms, and I knew I wasn't strong enough to hold it together, so Jonathan took Sean through the doors. Then there was nothing else to do but wait for the procedures to be over.

Around 3pm, we went back to the rooms and waited outside the recovery room as per earlier instructions. Both Jonathan and I had to go the bathroom, and we thought we had enough time to do our business before the nurses called us. By the time I came out of the bathroom, Jonathan had disappeared. I went into a mad panic and started chasing my tail in a circle. I was just about to pound on the doors when a nurse approached and started to head inside. In my now heightened upset state, I blurted out something resembling "my idiot husband left me and I need to get to my son who is in this room". The nurse left me outside while she took a minute to locate Sean, and then came back and led me through to the recovery room.

The nurses did come out while I was in the bathroom and Jonathan had followed without leaving a note or calling out to me to let me know where he was going. For crying out loud, the bathroom door was about 10 paces from the recovery room doors, so it would have taken Jonathan a few seconds to run down to pound on the door to let me know where he was going. But he was worried about Sean and didn't think to leave a message with anyone, which I felt was the wrong thing to do. He really could have waited a minute longer for me to finish washing my hands!

Our poor baby was screaming and screaming and screaming. He was in a world of hurt and the big fat tears kept rolling down his face. The recovery nurse told us Sean had woken from the anaesthesia well, but had immediately pulled the nasogastric tube out of his nose. The doctors had to put him under again to reinsert the tube, and thankfully he didn't pull the second one out. Sean was wearing only a nappy, and the nurses had bundled him up in a couple of soft bunny rugs to keep him warm. Jonathan tried his best to comfort Sean with some Daddy cuddles, before handing Sean to me for cuddles.

We stayed in recovery for a short time before going back to our room. Sean kept crying and crying and crying, and the nurses gave him some Baby Panadol to relieve the pain. We dressed Sean in one of Mum Robin's awesome modified baby suits and continued to hold him and comfort him. Sean kept crying and crying and crying. We thought he might be hungry, so we fed him a little of fruit gel to soothe his now sore throat, hoarse from all the crying. Finally, about 90 minutes after we left the recovery room, Sean fell asleep.

After his nap, Jonathan and I fed him some more food, and Sean seemed to be a little bit happier. The incision point in his neck looked sore to us, but Sean happily ate his dinner without too many problems.

With the NG tube in, the nurses have restarted the overnight feed with Sean, but they are going to grade the amount of feed up throughout the night, as Sean had been under general anaesthesia earlier today and the nurses wanted to be careful with how his stomach may have been affected by the drugs. The nurses also gave him some more pain relief before he went to sleep, and while he's currently sleeping, I know tonight is going to be a hard one for everyone. The nurses have promised to come and check on him every hour, so I hope I will be able to get some shut eye during the night.