Suddenly it struck me that we have our pre-op appointment on Wednesday. Then we'll get an actual date for surgery, and this just makes it all more real.
I had mentioned bringing Maya to the doctor one day a couple of weeks ago to check out her cough, and Sam told me, "I not want go to the doctor Mommy. I not want get fixed."
***
I wrote this before the all-day appointment yesterday, during which we assumed we'd get a date for surgery.
We did get a date. We were also told by Dr. Albright, Sam's pediatric orthopedist, that he would prefer doing one side at a time. That means, one major surgery to correct the coxa vara in his right hip lasting six hours, followed by six weeks in a spica (body) cast, followed by a month out of the cast ... then back to the hospital, another major surgery to correct the coxa vara in the left hip, followed by another six weeks in a spica cast.
Before I go into the very logical reasoning behind this, which I agree with, I'd like to share my Liz Lemon meets Molly Shannon moment with you in the interest of levity ... and also in case any embarrassed moms find themselves in my awkward situation.
Luckily, Jim had gotten off work to come with us. I was so thankful for this because I can't tell you how many times I've done it myself, and it is not easy to take one to the potty while the other is on an exam table. Actually, I have told you this before.
We were waiting in Room 4 for Dr. Albright to come in and give us one date for surgery, and suddenly I realized I was sweating. Makes sense, they keep hospitals very warm for the naked people in there, and it was a little nerve-wracking waiting for the final date, the finalization that yes, surgery is happening.
Suddenly, I realized in addition to sweating, I was stinking. I remembered to get myself dressed, even used a curling iron (what?) on my hair. I got both kids dressed, remembered to bring two types of snack that each of them like (nobody eats the same snack, mind you) juice boxes and several books and toys. I even dug out a couple little Christmas gifts to each of them to give them in the office, a trick I learned long ago that was necessary if I was to have any sort of actual conversation about Sam's medical situation.
But I had forgotten something. What was it?
Of course, it was deoderant!
So of course I start sweating more realizing that I have forgotten this rather important step to getting ready for my day, and of course I don't have a spare in my purse, though I should for how often I forget it.
But then I have an epiphany, and I'm passing it to you other moms out there should you find yourself as scatterbrained and nervous and smelly as me.
Hand sanitizer!
I'm not saying it's the new Secret, but it's better than nothing and it works in a pinch .... so I'm squirting it in my hands and furtively rubbing it under my arms in a very Mary Katherine Gallagher kind of way, but of course Jim notices.
"What are you doing?" he asks.
So I have to tell him.
I figure since I told him, I may as well just tell everyone. In the interest of lightening the mood of the blog.
I'm glad I went ahead with that decision since the news was once again not what we were expecting. I may as well not ever say that in this blog since I say it every single time. I even wrote a whole blog about it. So from here on out, let's just all assume that nothing is ever as we thought it would be.
Dr. Albright finally came in (and I didn't stink anymore) and dropped the bomb.
"I know last time I think I told you I wanted to do both hips at once, right?" Yes, we answered. "Yeah, well now I think I should do one at a time."
I had brought up my concerns about Sam's Metaphyseal Chondrodysplasia, Schmid type, in terms of anesthesia. Because it's a type of dwarfism, I was worried about potential differences in dosage. I wanted him to be asleep for the whole 12 hours but I obviously didn't want him to have a hard time breathing. Wouldn't his genetic condition change how much anesthesia he could safely receive?
I still haven't connected with the anesthesiologist at Alfred I duPont Hospital for Children in Delaware, but want to before I talk to Sam's anesthesiologist because Dupont has so much experience with little people.
Then Dr. Albright started asking us about his size, and whether he'd dropped below the fifth percentile. He is below the fifth percentile; my understanding is that he's not on the growth chart in terms of height. He's in about the 20th for weight.
The genetic condition and anesthesia was a good point, and one that Dr. Albright seemed to already be thinking about. Because Sam has a narrower breathing passage than other people, putting him under for such a long surgery is more risky. (I have read that all people with a genetic condition causing dwarfism are prone to sleep apnea, and so this all clicked into place to me.)
The other concern is potential blood loss. Because Sam is so small, he doesn't have much blood to lose. When the bone is being cut, it bleeds. You never know how much it will bleed until you cut it.
That concern combined with the anesthesia concern was enough for Dr. Albright to want to be cautious and do one side at a time.
And of course, while inconvenient, Sam's safety and health are the only real concerns. Because this isn't emergency surgery, it's considered elective surgery. So Dr. Albright asked us what we wanted to do.
"It seems like you're uncomfortable doing both sides at a time," I said.
"Yeah, I would definitely say to do one side at a time," he answered.
"Then that's what we're doing," I told the doctor. I think we need the surgeon to be comfortable.
I like Sam's doctor a lot. He has spent so much time with us, and yesterday was no exception. He's good at gently guiding us to where we need to be, and there is no question in my mind as Sam grows that early surgery will be best for him. He really is inhibited physically, and he notices it. It's impossible not to notice. I'm glad Dr. Albright agrees with that.
At one point, when we were trying to answer Maya's questions, I told her that after it was all done, Sam would be able to better keep up when they race.
"In fact, he might even be able to beat you in a race," I told her.
I hadn't thought Sam was paying attention, but his head whipped up, and his face had this awe-struck grin on it.
I think that he suddenly got that. We'll have to focus on that when we're cheering him up as he goes through not one but two major surgeries and three months in a body cast.
I've never been looking more forward to July.
