Looking to tomorrow

Tomorrow is my youngest daughters surgery date. She is having her spine fused tomorrow between T4 and L3. It's a big one. They estimate she'll be in theatre for between 6 to 8 hours. They'll be starting at around midday, as long as the case before her is straightforward and there are no emergencies that come up.

I won't lie and say that I'm not nervous. I am. Anyone would be. However I know that she is in good hands. I have confidence in the surgeon. I have confidence that we have made the right decision to proceed. This is our best option. You know that place that falls between a rock and a hard place? That's where we are. We are well aware that she will have a different set of issues after the surgery but these are ones she can live with. The consequences of not doing the surgery are not good.

So, we put on our brave faces. Being brave doesn't mean being scared or nervous. Being brave means that you're scared but you do it anyway.

She and I have planned the day like a birth plan. She has her own comforting blanket packed. We've planned the words we will say as we enter the anaesthetic room. She's told me the song she wants me to sing to her as she heads into the oblivion that is anaesthetic sleep. It's important to adhere to these things. They help keep the panic at bay.

I will keep my brave face on until I see her drift off. It will be then that the bonds of self control will fall away and I will finally show how I really feel. My baby will be going somewhere I can't go too. She will be in the hands of people who care for her but who can't possibly love her like I do.

For her, it will feel like it happens in an instant. She will drift off and then feel as though she is waking again straight away. She will be aware of a passage of time but it will still feel as though it has happened in an instant.

For me, there will be the long wait - a six to eight hour wait. The wait where you try and keep occupied and distracted. I will try and crochet some granny squares but I don't think I'll get many done. I will try and read some more of my book, but I know I'll just keep reading the same page over and over. I will drink coffee without really tasting it. I will talk to people but I won't really listen to what they say back to me. My mind will be elsewhere. My heart will be in that Theatre, beating along with hers, waiting.....waiting......waiting for her to come back to me.

I would give all I have for it to be me in that Theatre tomorrow. I wish it were me. She's already had enough surgeries. Too many. I thought this one was one we'd never have to even contemplate, but here we are. My mind drifts back to the day I held my nine month old Little G and they told me, "We've reviewed the X-rays and it appears that she does have the changes associated with Pseudoachondroplasia." I grieved. Oh how I grieved! I was astounded by the grief I felt. I knew that I'd see changes slowly happen to her, but I didn't expect this spinal one at all. At all. This one came out of left field. I expected the leg issues. I expected the joint issues....but not this.

I wish it were me. How I wish it were me!

But it's not me. It's her and she's facing it with courage and grace. So much grace! She apportions no blame. It just is. She is handling everything as best she can by informing herself of what she's in for. She has talked to the doctors, she has chatted with her chiropractor, she has Googled and YouTubed as much as she can. All of it has been helpful.

And she has needed hugs, and hair stroking, and Tim Tam Chillers.....and time with the people who love her most. She's filling her tanks so she can face what's ahead. Her calm, beautiful face belies the anxious heart beneath.

When she wakes we will be there. Ours will be the first faces she sees. We'll see her though the first three days where the drug cocktail takes her places away from the pain, when her body will swell with fluid from the trauma. She has asked that I document it with photos and videos so she has a record of her experience. I hope I'm strong enough.

I can't wait to see those beautiful baby blues on the other side of all this. I can't wait to see her face when she looks in the mirror for the first time and sees the positive changes this surgery will bring. I can't wait to see her happy with her appearance again. Her appearance will be the bonus for her. She's having this surgery for her health - so her heart and lungs will continue working at their fullest capacity, not being hindered by an ever-increasing spinal curve. That is our PRIME motivation. But it comes with a BONUS - that being that her posture is straight. To a fifteen year old girl, that's important.

Tomorrow. It all happens tomorrow. The wait will be over. The tensions will begin to go. Tomorrow will be the beginning.