The next morning I purposely woke Maisie at 5.AM and again at 7.AM to give her a bottle as she was to fast again until the afternoon. It was set to be another big day for her, with another anesthetic but this time she would have to go to theater. The surgeons today were inserting a Broviac line which would go in through her neck, be tunneled under the skin and come out through her chest in order to be used for "further treatment". (At the time of insertion we were unaware that the further treatment they were referring to was chemotherapy). Following this a biopsy of the renal mass on her left abdomen would be carried out and a CT scan. What a day for my little bear.
At 8.AM the surgeon arrived to discuss the process of the day and to talk me through the procedures. I couldn't quite follow everything he was saying but key words were ringing loudly in my head; incision scars, chances of bleeding, injury to lung, bladder, bowel, line can be blocked, pulled out, air traps, inadequate sample of tumour. My mind was boggling and my thought process was clouded with fear. The surgeon then presented me with a consent form that I needed to sign in order for the procedures to be carried out. I stood frozen on the spot, pen in hand, and in complete disbelief that this whole situation was happening and that these conversations and decisions were now our reality. As I hesitated to sign the form I watched the surgeon walk around the side of the cot to where Maisie was lying asleep. He looked at her, reached out his hand and stroked the top of her head in a gentle manner. He told me about his daughter, her age and the things she liked to do and I could tell in the way that he spoke he understood my fear. My uncertainties. My worries. I could also tell that although this was his job, Maisie was more than just a number. More than just another case. With that, I put the pen on the yellow paper and signed my consent.
It was another long day again trying to keep Maisie entertained and her mind off her empty tummy and we again took it in turns to walk her up and down the corridor. I had just made a cup of tea in the parent room whenever my mum unexpectedly appeared in front of me, (I had spoke to her that morning and she was at work). She said that after hearing my voice that morning she knew she needed to be here for me. With that she opened her arms and I fell into them and broke. I cried harder and harder with every breath and sob and it felt like all the little broken pieces of my heart were being crushed even more. I felt my legs go from under me and the weight of my body being held by the strength of my mum. All the feelings, emotions, fears and the utter devastation that possessed me came flooding out, the way it can only do when you know you are with someone who you dont need to be strong for, because they are strong for you both. My mum pulled me into her chest and stroked my hair, the way I always remember her doing when I was little. And as I started to catch my breath I knew that this is how I needed to be for Maisie. I needed to be strong for her so she could hurt, cry, be upset and know that it was OK because I had it in me to comfort, console and get us both through this.
At 3.30.PM they called for her. I again went into the room until she went to sleep but this time I wasn't allowed to hold her on my knee. They took her from me and laid her down on the table and she instantly began to cry. She lay there, tears dripping off her bottom lashes, rolling down her little cheeks and looking at me to lift her up. I stood there helpless, guilty, thinking I did this. I consented for this to happen. I wanted nothing more than to pick her up and run far far away, but the rational part of me knew that we needed to do this. We needed to know what was there under her skin, growing and building itself a home within her beautiful little body. Within three seconds she was asleep, and as I walked out of the theater I felt like I was the worst mother in the world but I also knew that I was doing the best and only thing I could.
When they came and told us she was in recovery and we could go see her I felt a sickly feeling in the pit of my stomach. Every step I took on my way up I was remembering how she was the day before when she awakened from the anesthetic and I was unsure of how I would hold it together again. But I needn't have worried.
At 8.AM the surgeon arrived to discuss the process of the day and to talk me through the procedures. I couldn't quite follow everything he was saying but key words were ringing loudly in my head; incision scars, chances of bleeding, injury to lung, bladder, bowel, line can be blocked, pulled out, air traps, inadequate sample of tumour. My mind was boggling and my thought process was clouded with fear. The surgeon then presented me with a consent form that I needed to sign in order for the procedures to be carried out. I stood frozen on the spot, pen in hand, and in complete disbelief that this whole situation was happening and that these conversations and decisions were now our reality. As I hesitated to sign the form I watched the surgeon walk around the side of the cot to where Maisie was lying asleep. He looked at her, reached out his hand and stroked the top of her head in a gentle manner. He told me about his daughter, her age and the things she liked to do and I could tell in the way that he spoke he understood my fear. My uncertainties. My worries. I could also tell that although this was his job, Maisie was more than just a number. More than just another case. With that, I put the pen on the yellow paper and signed my consent.
It was another long day again trying to keep Maisie entertained and her mind off her empty tummy and we again took it in turns to walk her up and down the corridor. I had just made a cup of tea in the parent room whenever my mum unexpectedly appeared in front of me, (I had spoke to her that morning and she was at work). She said that after hearing my voice that morning she knew she needed to be here for me. With that she opened her arms and I fell into them and broke. I cried harder and harder with every breath and sob and it felt like all the little broken pieces of my heart were being crushed even more. I felt my legs go from under me and the weight of my body being held by the strength of my mum. All the feelings, emotions, fears and the utter devastation that possessed me came flooding out, the way it can only do when you know you are with someone who you dont need to be strong for, because they are strong for you both. My mum pulled me into her chest and stroked my hair, the way I always remember her doing when I was little. And as I started to catch my breath I knew that this is how I needed to be for Maisie. I needed to be strong for her so she could hurt, cry, be upset and know that it was OK because I had it in me to comfort, console and get us both through this.
At 3.30.PM they called for her. I again went into the room until she went to sleep but this time I wasn't allowed to hold her on my knee. They took her from me and laid her down on the table and she instantly began to cry. She lay there, tears dripping off her bottom lashes, rolling down her little cheeks and looking at me to lift her up. I stood there helpless, guilty, thinking I did this. I consented for this to happen. I wanted nothing more than to pick her up and run far far away, but the rational part of me knew that we needed to do this. We needed to know what was there under her skin, growing and building itself a home within her beautiful little body. Within three seconds she was asleep, and as I walked out of the theater I felt like I was the worst mother in the world but I also knew that I was doing the best and only thing I could.
When they came and told us she was in recovery and we could go see her I felt a sickly feeling in the pit of my stomach. Every step I took on my way up I was remembering how she was the day before when she awakened from the anesthetic and I was unsure of how I would hold it together again. But I needn't have worried.
When we went into recovery she was lying so peacefully in her cot, wrapped up in her blanket and she was actually snoring away. Her little face was a beautiful colour and her temperature was normal so there was no signs of an anesthetic flush and all her vitals were good. After 30 minutes and no signs of little miss Maisie wakening up we had to bring her out of her slumber and our brave girl never cried. Her arms stretched out to me and when I picked her up she just clung to me like a koala bear, snuggled into my chest with one hand clutching her teddy and the other clutching my arm. I walked with her like this back down to the ward and she stayed there for almost an hour before she was hungry and wanted some food. She had two different feeds that evening but nothing stayed down, she vomited everything back up, (mostly over me too but I honestly wasn't complaining, I had my girl in my arms). But this didn't impact her form, she still managed smiles for us all and again when I put her down to sleep she seemed completely unfazed by the events of the day.
Me on the other hand, I was completely worn out. My head was bursting from crying, my insides were aching, my heart was heavy, but ultimately, I was so proud of my girl. I felt blessed to have her in my life and lucky to be her mummy. I just hoped with every inch of my being that I was making the right decisions for her and that I could muster the strength to continue on with this journey, wherever it was going to take us.
Wendy.
Our thoughts are with you. Xxx
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