My nine-year-old son is the center of my universe. This is the story of his childhood as it unfolds. Please read the first post, "Why I started this blog," to know more.

Sunday, January 11, 2009

Cryo and scary swelling

Munchkin's cryo procedure finally happened last Thursday. He was taken in around 9.30 and was out by 10.30 - on a guerney with a dextrose drip and oxygen mask. A few minutes later, however, he started to thrash around and scream again. The scary memories of his first procedure came flooding back. At that time, he'd been only five-and-a-half. This time, he was nearly seven and it took his father, the nurse and me to control him.

We asked for the anesthetist or someone from his team to come and adminsiter a sedative or a painkiller - even though I knew it would be a while before that took effect. I was holding down his legs and got kicked in my face and chest a couple of times. The nurse had a tough time holding his hand in place, otherwise he'd have yanked off the IV drip and done himself an injury.

My mother was away asking the nurses to ask for the doctors. A man in scrubs came in and administered a painkiller in his IV. It didn't seem to help.

After a few minutes - or was it an hour? - a stranger came and offered to hold down Poppet's legs (rarely anybody stays overnight in the eye hospital, so the ward is a large waiting room of sorts) and I relented, running off to see why the anesthesiologist was taking so long. I was hysterical and the floor supervisor ticked me off for 'disturbing others'. My apologies but at that point, I DIDN'T CARE!! Didn't she get that?

The anesthesiologist finally came. He's a pleasant man, with twinkling eyes and wispy grey hair. He was smiling when he admonished the nurse for not having called him earlier and was smiling when he told us that sedatives were essentially poisons so they needed to be administered carefully. He put something into Poppet's IV and my little fellow was quiet within the minute.

We breathed a sigh of relief. I was still crying when I apologized to the floor supervisor. The flip side to this was that Poppet slept and slept and slept - waking up only for a few minutes at a time after a couple of hours.

During that time, a number of people asked us what treatment Poppet had needed. One woman carressed Poppet's foot and said a silent prayer before saying: Don't worry, he'll be fine. Trust in God. Another man - I recognized him as the person who'd held down Poppet's legs when I'd gone to scream at the floor supervisor - smiled assuringly. It's at times like these that you have to believe that it is the kindness of strangers that keeps the world going. Thank you, dear people.

When we got home and took off the bandage, we were in for a shock. His right eye was swollen shut. That had never happened in the previous two rounds of treatment. The swelling didn't die down the following morning either. My husband and mother took him to the hospital again in the afternoon. The doctor said it was because of the cryo and it would start to subside in a couple of days.

I had a terrible time at work on Friday - again, not meant for this blog - but was relieved to know that his eye was fine.

The swelling did start to subside on Saturday evening.

By that time, however, I was something of a zombie. Still feel like one. But I wanted to put up this post, and thank those who prayed for my son. Shaun, Liz, Sally, Anissa, Poornima, Vani, Annelise, Nayana... my deepest thanks to each one of you.

Get well soon, Poppet. I hope you never need another round of Coats treatment in your life.

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