Recently,
my son Matthew had cardio-thoracic reconstruction surgery. Even though he’s almost 19,
it’s considered a pediatric surgery, so he’s been in the PICU (pediatric
intensive care unit) for eight days and counting. Here are a few things I’ve
learned in the PICU.
1. PICU
has the nicest nurses. Hands down. Bar none.
2. Laughter
is still the best medicine.
- Matthew asked me to call Miracle Max while Matt was still only “mostly dead.”
- Matt got so tired of the respiration monitor alarming because he was breathing too slowly that he’d occasionally pant just to mess with the machine.
3. It
is a truth universally acknowledged that the baker’s dozen of technological
marvels that monitor and maintain post-surgical health will inevitably malfunction, but only
between the hours of midnight and four am. Also, these wonders have alarms that
squawk every two seconds and are only fixable (or mutable) by a specialist who lives
700 miles away.
4. Eye
rolling is a good thing. The other day, the physical therapist said, “Sweetie,
I know you’re feeling a bit better—you just rolled your eyes at me. Yay!”
5. Healthy
hospital food isn’t healthy if it’s inedible. Nothing is as unappetizing as a plain,
microwaved boneless-skinless chicken breast sitting on Styrofoam. (Except meals
that don’t even arrive. Yeah, that happened more than once.) Eventually, we
told them we no longer required their food, and we brought Matt food from home.
The nurses apologized profusely for the horrid food. But it wasn’t their fault.
6. When
a visiting great dane licks your hand, it’s better than morphine. A hospital
employee (who will remain nameless) may have offered to get our black Lab
Jezebel into the hospital to visit Matthew. We assured said employee that this
would not be wise.
7. The
ability to walk should never be taken for granted. Because the surgery reshaped
Matt’s chest (and consequently his spine, giving him one or two inches in new
height), it has completely altered his sense of balance. As Matt practices
walking, Cal and I stand very close on either side so he can “ping-pong” off us
as he moves down the hall. It makes him look like a drunken zombie. But as he lurches
through the PICU, the nurses cheer as he relearns balance. (Like I said
earlier, best nurses ever.)
8. One
of the amazing things I learned is that aside from the single incident of
eye-rolling, Matthew is the most gracious, patient person I know. He bore the
pain, setbacks, and discouragement with quiet dignity that was a wonderful
testimony to Christ’s strength. I know I wouldn’t do as well.
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| Before surgery! |
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| Several days after surgery with pain under control. |
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| Matt's dinner. I don't think our dog would eat this. |
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| Calvin and I having a picnic with good food. |
