Willa’s surgery went almost as well as expected yesterday morning. Leaving her in that operating room was so hard to do. She was awake in my arms when I walked her in. She didn’t like the gas mask much, but she must’ve liked the way it smelled, because she started licking the gas.
Everything went as smoothly as anticipated, except that they had the hardest time starting an IV. Dr. Wilson said they called almost every doctor that was available to come try to find a vein. After an hour and a half and tons of pokes, they gave up and came out to tell us. We thought the surgery was complete when they asked us to speak with them. Ha! Dr. Wilson hadn’t even begun yet!
They ended up having to put in a temporary central line since finding a vein was virtually impossible. Dr. Wilson said he hasn’t seen that in 15 years! After another 45 minutes or so, he was able to finally begin the enucleation.
While in the waiting room, we were blessed to have another couple to talk to who’s daughter was in surgery as well. This helped pass the time for sure. Their daughter fought lymphoma two years ago and treatment was successful. It was nice to talk to someone who really understands what you’re going through and where you’re coming from. And it was a great change of pace to here Steven and them talk about Tennessee football!
When we were called back to see Willa she looked so tiny on her little bed. She had a bandage over her right eye, but her left eye was open and she was looking at everything, taking it all in. She was pretty pitiful for most of the day yesterday. She hardly ate, and any time she was coherent it seemed she was uncomfortable. She didn’t really cry, just kept making sweet little moaning sounds. I think it was more just trying to wake from being under anesthesia for the past three days. Not to mention, 2.5 hours of it just for this surgery alone.
This morning she got her bandage off. Here eye is swollen, and the sutures are a tad bit startling just at first, but overall it really seems like a piece of cake when you’re talking about getting rid of cancer.
We thought we would be headed home on Sunday or Monday, but now that she has a central line in place we have to stay the whole week. Hopefully we will hear from pathology in a handful of days. If the results come back positive and the cancer has spread, she will have a spinal tap to make sure and then start chemo treatment. If the results come back negative we will get to head home!!!!!!!
So in the meantime, we are resting and waiting. We also have to get Finn and Johnnie June examined, and that might happen as soon as this week while we’re already here.
You all….yesterday, I was an emotional wreck, wrought with anxiety, because there’s so much we still don’t know. All of the genetic talk just totally overwhelms me and I hate that getting our other children checked out is even something we have to consider. I was exhausted and Willa wasn’t very happy. Every time she tried to cry I didn’t know what was wrong. Gas? Her eye? Nausea? The central line? The tape on her face? Her neck? Her chest????
Today, I’m hopeful and on fire! Willa’s eye (or lack thereof) looks incredible. Her nurse practitioner was thrilled with her recovery so far. She is resting and happy today. Even gave us a few smiles!
I’m also just so in awe of St. Jude. I haven’t had much time, up until recently, to process how blessed we are to have been referred here. Willa’s treatment is impeccable. Her nurses, especially Emily in the Medicine Room, have been OUTSTANDING. The nurses here cry with you. They don’t just care for your child, they love your child. The sight and sound of Willa fighting and screaming when they were drawing blood during her labs on the first day here was too much for me; one nurse held me while I struggled to pull it together. She just held me and told me I didn’t have to be strong, that it was okay to cry, that God had a plan for even this. They’re like angels, these nurses!
The doctors explain everything to us without the slightest hint of arrogance. They are some of the most humble professionals I have ever encountered. Extremely intelligent in their specific field, and extremely humble…making so sure that parents truly understand what’s going on with their child. Pray for the St. Jude staff. I have no doubt that billions of prayers are said for these beautiful people. They are strong enough to get their work done, and still be personally invested in each patient. Their hearts are open, leaving them vulnerable to the pain and suffering they see everyday, but also open to developing a deep relationship with patients and their parents. There’s no way they could do that without the Holy Spirit strengthening them and filling them with hope.
All of the extra things St. Jude does for patients in their Child Life department are amazing. Every day at lunch there is some type of live music being played. Some players from the LA Lakers were here the other day signing autographs. …..tons of employees are cancer survivors. I am forever changed. Forever motivated to no longer ignore childhood cancer, but to embrace the battle and be a small part of it, whatever that looks like.
On the TV in our housing lobby this morning I saw that St. Jude was just named one of the top places to work by Forbes. Duh! It is incredible. If I ever went back to school to work full-time, I would get a degree to be a Child Life Specialist at this hospital….that’s how much of an impact it’s left on me. I’m even slightly excited to have Finn and Johnnie here, because they are going to LOVE it! I mean……red wagons to ride in?? Even just that is enough to make them squeal and that’s just two steps inside the front doors.
I think a lot of this is me coming to terms with Willa having cancer. Now when I walk the halls, holding little Willa in my arms, I feel like we are part of the club. We get it. I’m not nervous anymore to see these kids’ faces. I’m fighting, Steven’s fighting, Willa’s fighting, we’re fighting with them.
It’s obviously not “cloud nine” all the time. I get hit with waves of fear. I hear a child crying out in pain in the room next door. I still want to suck cancer out of every little body here. I get angry. But, there’s something about this place, and these awesome kids, that reassures me: It’s gonna be OK.