Say it isn't so!

 John 16:33  I have told you these things, so that you may have peace.  In this world you will have trouble.  But take heart!  I have overcome the world.

9 months...it was a record, a personal best.  I'm sure it must have been some kind of a world record, well, at least in Christopher's world.  Never in the "history of Christopher" had he gone 9 months without having an infection in his feeding tubes.  It didn't come with a gold medal, or a trophy, or anything for that matter, but it felt great just the same.

We had really grown fond of the whole "living at home thing."  It was a real breath of fresh air to be just an average, normal family again.  It was so nice not to live with the constant threat of an emergency all the time, so it was really distressing after 9 long, infection free months when I saw the tell-tale redness across his abdomen.  The thermometer confirmed my fears.  Christopher was running a temperature, and his J-tube (the one that we used to feed him into his intestine) was INFECTED! 

Michael loved his Elmo!

I couldn't believe it.  After 9 months, I had become complacent with the new normal.  This just couldn't be happening!  I started grabbing clothes and kids.  What did I do with the emergency suitcases for the boys?  I  took them out of the car, but what did I do with them?  I thought we were past all this.

I really felt off my game.  I was so used to being at home.  I had forgotten how to do this.  I needed clothes, toothbrushes, Michael's Elmo...I should probably take some of my stuff too.  Where did I put my keys?  To say the least, I was frantic and caught off guard.  I had to stop, take a moment, have a little talk with myself, and pull myself together.  You can do this.  You know how...just THINK.  Don't panic.

That about sums it up!

The traveling circus was loaded in the car.  I had all the suitcases piled in the back, and I had alerted our families.  I sped off to the last place I wanted to go, the emergency room.  I had already called ahead to the hospital to let them know that I was bringing Christopher in with an infected feeding tube.  The GI doctor and the surgeon had been called, and they were going to meet us in the emergency room to examine Christopher.  I guess I remembered how to play the game after all.

It didn't take much of an examination to determine that, yes, that was one really infected tube.  We were immediately admitted to the hospital, an IV was inserted (after a huge struggle to find access...remember his bad veins?), and heavy duty antibiotics were started. 

I couldn't believe it.  It all happened so fast.  Boy, that 9 months really flew by.  I  thought that we were done with all this emergency stuff, but here we were sitting in a hospital room with three other unfortunate little souls. 

Antibiotics vs. bacteria

The infection came on fast and furious.  It had taken its hold and was ravaging his tiny body.  His abdomen was swollen, red and hot.  His temperature was a reflection of the battle going on inside him.  He was in a lot of pain, so the nurses gave him some pain medication in the hopes that he could get some much needed rest.

The waiting game began...tick tock, tick tock.  We waited while the battle between bacteria and antibiotics was waged inside my little Christopher.  Which side would win?  Was it possible that even with the new feeding tubes that the bacteria could still win, and Christopher would lose...his life?  Maybe there were stronger antibiotics.  Maybe he would need surgery.  Maybe, maybe, maybe...my mind felt like it was going to explode! 

My hands were tied.  There was nothing more I could do but wait, so I decided to settle in until the battle was decided.  I arranged my small corner of the room.  I needed to brush up on my "how to sleep upright in a chair" skills.  How did I used to arrange these chairs?  I felt like I was rearranging the deck chairs on the Titanic.  My mommy radar was on high alert.  I had a really bad feeling about all this.

As it turned out, my radar was spot on.  As the days passed, it was clear that the bacteria was winning the war.  The antibiotics weren't working.  The nurses tried to prepare my heart for the worst as they prepared Christopher for surgery.  It was the only option left.  The surgeons would open him back up and try to clean out the infection.  There were no guarantees of success, no guarantees that Christopher would survive even the surgery.

I like this idea!!!

My heart was heavy with grief as my husband and I made our way toward the surgical waiting area.  I was really beginning to hate that room.  It was supposed to be a quiet, comfortable place, but it represented nothing but pain, anxiety, and uncertainty to me.  The walls were a depressing color, and the chairs weren't comfortable at all.  How did they expect anyone to feel better in this room?  I wanted OUT!  I wanted out of this room.  I wanted out of this constant merry-go-round of a crisis filled life.  I wanted out, and most of all I wanted Christopher to be out...OUTSIDE playing on the swings, splashing in mud puddles, and pushing his toy trucks and cars around in the dirt.  That's what boys were supposed to do.

I thought I was having a bad day!

This was not supposed to happen.  Say it isn't so.  Say it isn't happening.  Somebody tell me that this is all a bad dream.  Wake me up!  I want out of this room!  I feel like I'm being choked, but I hide my feelings and my fears.  I try to be strong.  I try not to fall apart, but I think I might need to increase that dose on my prescription antidepressants.  When is my next appointment with the psychologist?   Didn't he say we could increase the dose if we needed to?

My thoughts were interrupted dead in their tracks.  The surgeon, still in his scrubs, filled the room with his sudden appearance.  He had a bleak, foreboding expression which caused me to hold my breath as I waited for the words that would determine the course and direction of our lives.


If you have never accepted Jesus Christ as your Lord and Savior, you can pray like this:

More tomorrow...