Friday, 10 June 2022

On the ward and prepping for surgery

Isaac finally agreed with the doctors to come in. He’s not happy, but for now, is at the grudgingly accepting stage. Naturally, he feels this is all my fault (default teen state). 

Plan is for two weeks of IV antibiotics (worryingly soon after the last course) to help his lungs (we’re back to endless coughing by night, and grunting chest clearing by day) and to ensure he’s well enough for the anaesthesia on Monday. 

The operation itself, Isaac is more than happy to have. He knows from his four previous sinus surgeries that afterwards he can soon breathe more easily, has way more energy, and the rotten headaches disappear. This we are desperate for. 

Going to theatre is never a jolly, but I don’t usually start to really panic until the surgery day. But this time... feels a little different? I’m not sure if it’s the added complexity of it being managed by two different hospitals (we learned yesterday that there is an underground tunnel between the two, great, but the communication between them, we seem to have to manage? I hope to be proved wrong on this point, but so far, no one seems to be able to tell us how this works); the size of the operation (it’s considered fairly major); or the duration (Isaac has had countless operations/general anaesthetics in his life, but most have been an hour...maybe two? This may be three or more) - all of which make me worry. 

Manically pacing up and down the corridors will at least be good for my step count I guess (I’m really reaching for more positives now!). But I remind myself that this is.... good. It’s really good. We’ve waited for this for months, and yes, the IVs add to the burden of treatment and he is not happy about this (once he is well enough, we hope he can come home and I can finish the course at home for him) - but they give him the best chance of a quicker recovery and lessen the risks - and this much needed surgery will help get him back to a better baseline of health. Hopefully one at which he can fully enjoy his summer - especially as his college is now out (he’s missing the last couple of weeks, but has completed his exams). 

I reluctantly left him there (I can no longer sleep on the ward). Him grumpy and tired already. Me fussing and secretly a bit weepy. The view from his room, filled with fluffy clouds and distant green hills, might help.... were it not for the thought of what goes in those incinerators - which we joked about for a while until it got too obscene and I started to gag. 

More soon. Thank you for caring. Big shout to to my NZ contingency for their massive love and messages of support.... V, I love you! x 

Cystic Fibrosis is a life limiting, genetic condition, affecting some 10,000+ people in the UK alone. CF sufferers often, as a last resort, need to trade in their damaged CF lungs for the lungs of a generous stranger. To sign up to support organ transplantation, please visit https://www.organdonation.nhs.uk/ and tell your loved ones of your wishes, as even when signed up, the decision becomes theirs after death.