Recoup

We've been home since Saturday evening.  Nina is tired and sore, I am exhausted.  I catch myself yawning and wonder why I'm so tired.  And then I remember.  This wasn't just a one-week, or two-week, or even a two month ordeal.  We've been dealing with this for three years.  Three years of wondering when the next episode would hit.  Three years of trying diets, medications, anything to see any type of change.  Three years of wondering, praying, pleading.  Three years of walking on eggshells.

And now it's done.  And I'm not quite sure what to think or do now.


Our first answers came through the use of the hida scan - a super cool high-tech machine that tests how well her gallbladder functions.  Yeah.  Hers didn't.  The valve at the bottom of the gallbladder that is supposed to allow the bile to drain - didn't work.  At all.  And thus, we have the answer to three years of constant pain.

Yes, I did allow her to have a bacon cheeseburger and giant pile of french fries the night before surgery day. You only live once, right?

The next morning we got all dolled up in our cute surgical outfits and posed for the camera. Our surgeon said we had to be the two most excited people she'd ever seen in pre-op. Our response? "We've waited three years for this day! We're ready!"

The surgery went perfectly. Her gallbladder was so diseased the surgeon was worried it might rupture before she got it out. No wonder she was in so much pain.

All the nurses agreed her first post-op meals were the strangest they'd ever seen - veggies and chocolate ice cream for dinner, fruit loops, donuts, a banana, and tomato juice for breakfast. That's my kid.

Her recovery has been slow. She had an allergic reaction to betadine, the wash they use to sterilize the skin before surgery. The pain meds either make her throw up, have an itchy nose, or just plain don't work. But the pain in her side is gone. The pain that has been her constant companion for three years. Gone.

In her words - "Now I can go back to being a normal kid."

One More Day

Once again I find myself in a hotel room in Denver, listening to the sweet sounds of my sleeping child.  She is so peaceful, so perfect.

Once again I am reminded of just how passionately and deeply her Heavenly Father cares for her.  While I know in my heart that the last three years of pain and frustration were not in His perfect plan for her life, I also know without a shadow of a doubt that He has used this journey for so much good.

She is stronger than she ever thought possible.

She has compassion and love beyond compare for any child in pain.

She has no fear of doctors, hospitals, nurses.  She considers them her friends.

She has learned to stand up for herself, to express herself, to speak her mind.


Today the Les Miserables soundtrack has been playing in my head, particularly the song "One Day More."  It is a song of promise, a song of hope.  A song that reminds me we can continue to fight one more day.

And one more day is all I have to ask of her.  Tomorrow she will fall asleep under anesthesia one more time.  Tomorrow will be one more surgery.  But tomorrow also holds the promise of the end.  The end of three years of pain.  The end of countless nights wondering how, and what, and why.

Tonight she is snuggling with a stuffed hippo named Sugar.  Sugar will be next to my Nina when she falls asleep tomorrow, and Sugar will be by her side when she wakes.  As will I.

When the answers don't come easy

I don't like the unknown.

I struggle with the what-ifs.

Especially when it comes to my children.

I actually started this post a month ago. I had to leave it alone. Let it sit. Let me sit.

A month ago, we were in Denver, meeting with a GI doctor. Trying to identify why my daughter has battled stomach pain for three years. Trying to rule out possibilities.

Tonight, we are in Denver. Again. My daughter is sleeping next to me. I am snuggling on the couch with 2 sweet kitties who are not my own. My roommate from college and her sweet hubby have graciously put us up for the night while we meet with yet another doc.

This afternoon, I held my daughter in a doctor's office as she sobbed. She didn't understand why they couldn't just do the surgery. Their postponement of surgery equaled "They don't believe me and they don't care" to my tender-hearted girl. She didn't understand that the doctor cares about her so much that she wants to make sure everything is looked at before surgery.

Today, I found out that the stomach pain my daughter has been dealing with for the last 10 months could actually be related to the stomach pain she had 3 years ago. The stomach pain that sent us to Denver to a doctor that didn't understand, didn't take the time to listen. The doctor that, honestly, taught my daughter that doctors cannot be trusted.

Tomorrow, we will drive back home.

Next Tuesday, we will drive back to Denver.

Next Wednesday, we will have yet another round of tests.

Next Thursday, we might actually be able to have the surgery that could make my daughter's pain go away.

But tonight, I sit on the couch with two cats who aren't mine and watch my daughter sleep. I wonder at the wisdom God gives doctors - to be able to see past the test results (or lack thereof) to the root of the problem. I wonder at the journey our family has been on for the past three years - the appointments, the prayers, the pain. I battle my own demons of anger, frustration, fear.

I wonder how this battle will be used for His glory. He promises that. And I intend to hold Him to it.

The Trial and Tribulations of a One-Legged Scooter Driver

Jerome is in town with the boys, playing their first softball game of the year. And, because the game was at 8:25 at night, and because Nina and I must rise with the chickens tomorrow for our grand adventure (more on that in a bit), and because tiny princess Violet got shots today, and because it is all windy and such outside, we stayed home. Which allows me to take a bath in peace with a glass of wine and my phone and a book. I like late games.

My scooter, which had saved my sanity, by the way, was far too boring. So we spiced it up. I think it looks much more fabulous now.

But do you see that back tire? Well, there is a little knob on that tire. A metal knob. A metal knob that I succeed in whacking with my ankle at least once a day. Thus, the loverly photo of my sad, abused ankle.

What's tomorrow, you ask? Well, it is our grand adventure! Nina gets to visit super Dr. S at Shriner's in Salt Lake for her 6 month(ish) post-op checkup. She is doing fabulous, in my opinion, but it's nice to have medical opinions to back you up. And, because I cannot drive 7 hours with my left foot, nor can Jerome take 2 days off in the middle of the work week to take us, we get a special treat. Shriner Grandpa and Shriner Grandpa's Buddy are going to fly us to SLC in SGB's plane! We will be helping them deliver 80 disposable cameras to the patients at the hospital, and Grandpa gets to see the hospital from the grandpa perspective. After our appointment we will be flown back home the same day. Such service! I guess it pays to know people sometimes.

So now I'm going to go soak my poor feet and prepare myself to wake with the chickens.

Random updates from a random mind

In bullet style, for your convenience and my amusement. Because it is a beautiful, sunshiny day and I can't play in my backyard. *pout*

* It is extremely hard to resist the siren call of the lawnmower. I love my lawnmower in a slightly unhealthy manner. But I somehow think that grass clippings stuck to my cast might give me away to my surgeon.

* We got to spend way more time in the ER and doctor's office than I would have liked this week. Nina woke up Thursday with extreme pain in her lower right abdomen. All the ER docs were certain it was appendicitis, until it wasn't. Turns out it was a nasty stomach virus that decided to attack the cluster of lymph nodes next to her lower intestine. Needless to say, the littles are going stir crazy while big sis groans on the couch.

* We are almost done with school for the year. This first year had been challenging, but amazing. I am super excited to order next year's curriculum, but ready for a little break.

* My surgery date is May 30. Happy birthday to me - I get morphine!!! It was either that or our anniversary. I opted for my birthday and told my surgeon I would bring him cupcakes.

* I get to rock a hard cast for 6 weeks post-op. Mainly because Jerome and my surgeon agreed that, at some point, I will go stir crazy and try to put weight on my foot if he lets me be in the black boot. I hate it when I know they're right.

* The main conversation in our house right now is what color my cast should be. The consensus is pink camo. I think that works. I promise pics once I'm coherent enough to work my phone.

* Madi has had 2 tball games, and LOVES it. I can easily see her rocking the eye black and striking out the boys when she's older.

* A sweet friend from church has volunteered to clean my house once a week while I'm laid up. So humbling, and yet so awesome!!!

* We are now headed to a spaghetti dinner fundraiser for one of our favorite teenagers. Bonus - no cooking or cleaning for me!