Friday, 6/12 @ 7:45 a.m. 

Both Zeke and I were snoozing away, finally getting some much-needed Zs, and in walk a team of about seven docs and residents at 6 a.m. I know that’s what they have to do, but it startled Zeke and he is just now starting to settle down … and that’s after more morphine and two more bottles of Pedialyte. Zeke only used the second bottle as a pacifier, however. Boy, does that kid miss his thumb.

He also misses Mommy and the delicious sustenance she provides. One nurse said we may be able to try breastfeeding later today. I’m pumping, as well, so I hope Zeke can at least get some milk into him with a bottle. Moreover, I’m sure he misses his yummy solid foods, not to mention him missing terribly his constant, fun-loving buddies, Gabriel and Houston, and Daddy. Poor baby.

A nurse said she wouldn’t be surprised if his chest drainage tube was removed soon. I actually removed his little nasal tube a bit ago. Zeke had been messing with this tube so much that it had been barely hanging on to the bottom of his nostril since late last night. Thankfully, this tiny gesture brought just a little happiness to my bummed-out boy.

The head anasthesiologist visited and we discussed that the epidural is probably providing some significant amount of pain relief. He did say that it’s challenging to judge in a kid because so many of the things that assist in aiding comfort and relief are non-medical — basically, all the aforementioned items: thumb sucking, being held, getting milk from Mommy, hanging with brothers, talking to Daddy, etc.

Zeke is a tad puffier today, but still looking amazingly good. The doc says this should start to subside by early afternoon.

Here’s how yesterday played out since my last post:

• 9:30 a.m. — Our pastor, associate pastor and youth pastor stopped by the hospital to lend Stephen and me moral support during the long and trying wait in surgical services. Joe, Larry and Todd stayed with us till we got the good news from Dr. Petty hours later. What a blessing they were, helping to ease our worried minds and distract our tired brains and bodies from the stress at hand.  
• 10:30 a.m. — Nurse Kathy called with the next update, saying that everything was going fine, but offered no details.
• 12:15 p.m. — Kathy called with another vague update. She did say, however, that the surgery took a bit longer than they had anticipated, but there was no cause for concern; the docs were simply taking their time and being thorough with every step of the intricate procedure.
• 12:45 p.m. — Kathy said that the lobectomy was done and that Dr. Petty was “closing him up.” Yay, almost done!
• 2 p.m. — We talked face-to-face with Dr. Petty. Basically, he explained that the surgery couldn’t have gone better, and that our resilient little Zeke wasn’t even on a breathing tube or a C-PAP. Thank the Lord!
• 3 p.m. — We finally got to visit Zeke one at a time in the anasthesia recovery room. They had warned that kids oftentimes look pretty frightening as a reaction to anasthesia, getting really swollen and/or red. But Zeke looked great!
• 4:30 p.m. — Zeke is moved to the intermediate recovery ward, where he has a private room. Stephen hangs out for a while and then heads home to help Granny take care of Houston and Gabriel. I am spending the night.

About an hour or so later, Zeke’s anasthesia really starts to wear off and he is administered morphine, in addition to the OR-grade pain medicine he receiving constantly via IV. I can only imagine how painful his tiny chest, lungs and right side must be. Man, I stump my toe and think the world is coming to an end. What a trooper our Z-Bird is!

Zeke is also battling a major gas bubble in his belly — a nurse show it to me on a chest x-ray and it was indeed huge — that just refuses to come up. Plus, he absolutely hates the small tube in his nose and is unable to reach his beloved thumb for sucking purposes.

Right now is a bit after 2 a.m., and Zeke is quite the restless boy, grunting, kicking and stretching his arms out while asleep, and waking up on occasion to exercise his four remaining lung lobes with some raucous screaming. Mommy and Zeke are both exhausted, but glad to be together.

Zeke has found some comfort, though, in the two bottles of Pedialyte I’ve been able to feed him. Couple that with some morphine every few hours and lots of love, gentle massages and songs from Mommy, and he’s having a darn good night considering all that he has been through in about the last 24 hours.

Mommy’s disclaimer: My synapses are firing even less than normal, since I only got about 3 1/2 hours sleep last night. So, please bear with me if this post seems kinda nutso.

Well, it’s 8:20 a.m. and Zeke is already in the OR. Stephen and I had to check him in here at Brenner’s at 6 a.m. Around 7 a.m., we were called back to a pediatric holding room to meet with the anesthesiology docs, ask Dr. Petty any remaining questions, answer some questions about Zeke’s health and medical history, and get our brave boy into his gown and ready for surgery. Stephen got the lowdown from the anesthesiologists, and a nurse took Zeke’s temp and attached a heart monitor to his big toe, while I petted and played with Zeke on the prep bed.

Really, Z-Bird didn’t need much comforting. Even though he hadn’t eaten since abour 10 p.m. last night, was awakened at the crack of dawn, trekked 45 minutes in the car, and then had to kill about an hour in the pediatric surgery waiting room, Zeke was all grins. As always, everyone commented on how happy Zeke is and what a good boy he was being. He certainly makes us proud.

Zeke got to take his Blessed Bear in the OR with him. Plus, he always has his thumb for comfort and consolation. The nurse made a notation that Zeke is a right-thumb sucker; that way, the OR nurses will be sure to put his IV into his left arm. That was some smart thinking.

The surgery will last 4-5 hours, so Zeke should be starting his recovery in the children’s Post Anasthesia Care Unit (PACU) by about 1 p.m. (There’s a slight chance that if any complications arise post-surgery, he will go to the NICU first.) RNs who are specifically trained to care for kids recovering from surgery and anesthesia will tend to Zeke and let us see him as soon as possible thereafter. I can’t wait to hold my sweet Zeke.

Update: it’s now 9 a.m. and Kathy, one of the RNs on Dr. Petty’s surgical team, just called and said that Zeke is doing well with his anasthesia and the surgery is now underway. Kathy says she’ll call back with another update in a while. Dear God, please be with Zeke and the wonderful medical professionals caring for him.

And please, God, give Stephen and I the stamina we need to get through this challenge and be the strong parents we need to be for Zeke’s recovery, and his brothers’ coping with the trauma. These next few hours are going to be the longest, most nerve-wracking of my life (with a close second being the 10-hour drive up Cincinnati for my TTTS operation, when I feared miscarrying the twins right there in the car).

I cannot wait to get Zeke home and get back to living our lives as normally as possible, God willing. No more specialists, no more fetal care centers, no more children’s hospitals, no more TTTS laser surgery, no more lobectomies, no more fancy tests and high-tech treatments. Nothing out of the ordinary, just good ol’ fun  — with a little mischief thrown in for good measure, of course — with the 3 Amigos!