Gage came out of his port removal surgery just fine. Me I was a complete and utter fucking reck the whole time. We were told it was going to be a quick surgery like 30-40 minutes, thank God because I didn’t have enough Xanax with me to last all day and I was mayor of anxiety-ville. Seriously, I thought I was going to need to be seen by one of the many docs walking by. The third floor OR waiting room is my own personal hell. Oh! and let me tell you what the best part of the 30-40 minute surgery was; it lasted TWO HOURS!!! During that two hours I kept thinking, would they announce a code pink in the OR third floor? How would by tell us Gage didn’t make it? Why he didn’t make it? For some reason my mind didn’t gravitate to the positive, I didn’t see me kissing his cheeks as he woke up, of giving him his first bottle***yes, I know 17 months is too old to have a bottle; I don’t want to hear it*** I didn’t see Troy and I talking to Gagers in post OP. I saw scary things, dark things as each minute passed and nobody came out I saw in my minds the docs coming out telling us they were sorry, and they did all they could, I saw us collapsing on the floor not knowing what to do, I saw us kissing him one last time; I saw that night back in August. Then I saw the docs walk out and say he was doing fine and we could go back now, I almost did collapse on the floor, and then we were kissing his cheeks as he woke up, giving him a bottle, and talking to him.
The best news Gage made it out of surgery and he is doing fan-fucking-tastic, he had no complications with the removal of the port or anesthesia. He did have a problem with the PICC line, his veins are just to small and too deep, so they weren’t able to access him; even with a vein finder and an ultrasound machine. We may be transported to another hospital in the area to try to get the PICC line in or we may try to put it in a vein by his ankle***dry heave*** somehow it seems worse at the ankle. We are not sure what our oncologists want to do yet, all we know is since we have a standard IV in place we are stuck at the hospital, no Christmas parties at the San Diego zoo with the other oncology kids, no Ronald McDonald house party either; I guess I didn’t realize how the port really mobilized us.
Oh and to finish off our day, we were told the pancreatitis is back. No food or drink for Gage for Jeebus knows how long, fun shit; huh?