Tubes and Glue

I am happy to report that Mr. Moo's surgery this morning went very well and he is recovering nicely. Not that I will relax until he's, like, 18 or something, but I should be able to sleep tonight even though my bed is only two feet from him (read: the alarms have stopped, finally). I have been warned of a 3am x-ray (although the nurse also said that if I didn't want to get up she could just "throw some lead on me"). And at 6am they are probably going to start removing some of the many tubes going in and out of his little body (he quite resembles Mowgli from the Jungle Book, except with lots of connections...).

And I was surprised to find that his incision is not covered at all because it was closed with surgical adhesive. For those who love a little trivia, that was an early use for super glue, except in a more military medic kind of way. There are stitches underneath (and some wire holding the ribs together), but the surface is really not that gory at all. Good deal.

I should probably get some sleep as it will be a LONG day tomorrow if he is actually awake and talking. Mind you, I won't argue about one little word that comes out of that precious mouth, but by the end of the day, he will have asked 100+ questions about every single device to which he is connected, talked the ear off of every hospital staff member that stops by, and probably tried to reprogram some of the equipment when we turn our backs for a moment.

It's ok, though, because he's here and he's healthy.

The Heart of the Matter

I've got a lot on my mind these days, but without question the biggest thing is Mr. Moo's upcoming surgery. Sorry to just drop it on you like that, but I really couldn't come up with a clever way to introduce the topic because, well, I'm a bit of a stressed out mamma at the moment.

This coming Friday, my little pumpkin goes under the knife to correct a ventral septal defect (VSD) that he has had since birth. As far as heart defects go, it's a relatively minor one. The hole is quite small, and Mr. Moo is a healthy little kid. The problem that we've run into is that the turbulence caused by the hole (so much turbulence, in fact, that one need not even touch the stethoscope to his chest to hear the murmur) is causing the heart to enlarge. Left alone, it will lead to numerous vascular, heart, and lung issues later in life, and by then it will be too late to repair anything.

So, enter scalpel, rib spreaders, and the whole open-heart parade.

{sigh}

Even last week, I was dealing pretty well with everything, but now that we're in the last few days before the procedure, I'm a bit of a raw nerve. Add to that the reality of a cousin in hospice (in his 60's, but still...) and a friend whose husband died unexpectedly last week, and I've become a bit of a hawt mess. I hear a song...I tear up. I read Facebook...I tear up. I refill my coffee cup...I tear up. I am not at all the weepy type, so add to the mix my brain trying to deal with All. Of. These. Emotions. So. Much. To. Process. (Read that last part in the voice of William Shatner for full effect.)

One saving factor is that my employer is being completely understanding and has only chided me for trying to figure out how soon I can be back to normal workload. "Don't you even think about work until your little guy is better," I have been told. How refreshing and welcome. I think if I were at ye olde place I would have gone postal by this point.

So, asking for prayers, good thoughts, and any other positives to get us all through this rough patch. Thanks all!