The faith we have in doctors is amazing.
I stood in the empty waiting room in tears. I had just watched a doctor knock my son out using gas. My poor son was fighting, struggling, kicking, screaming and calling for me; his mammy. What was I doing? I was holding his hand, rubbing his back, fighting back my own selfish tears. I hated this. I hated doing this. This is his dad’s job. I was mad his dad wasn’t here. I can’t handle this. He passed out. “Go mum now, we will ring you if there are any complications, 1 and a half hours max” the doctor didn’t even raise his head, he was busy attaching sensors to my little passed out boy.
The nurse walked me back out, to where I stood now. She rubbed my back and told me “He is in the best hands, you know that, I’ve to go back in now, go get a cup of tea” she left. I took a deep breath, trying to calm myself. I felt my tears running. I couldn’t stop them. A million thoughts ran through my mind all at once, what if they can’t intubate him? What if they can’t get the tube out after? What if his airway collapses and there’s nothing they can do?My heart beats faster and faster as my usual, scariest fear flashes through my mind~what if he stops breathing again? I panic. My hands sweat. My legs wobble. I sit down. Catching my breath, I tell myself over and over, that won’t happen. This doctor knows MPS, knows Hunter Syndrome and he knows Ethan. He’s never ever ended up in ICU under this doctor and today won’t be any different.
Minutes drag by. I know my sister is outside waiting to go get food. I can’t eat, I don’t want food, I want coffee and to pace up and down until they ring to tell me he’s ready and that he is fine. No problems, no breathing machines attached to his tiny body, just him and his teddy waiting for me, thats the phone call I want. The phone call I need.
I get up. Exhale loudly. Shake off the fears. Push them way back, deep inside and I lock it. He will be fine, I say aloud as I wipe my face and put one foot in front of the other. He will be fine I repeat, as I turn the corner and see my sister anxiously playing with her hair. I cry. She tries to comfort me,I let her, to make her feel better, nothing will make me feel better,I nod and agree with everything she is saying. I appreciate her and I know she is frightened too. ” Let’s get food, I’d love a slice of toast” I smile. She looks relieved, “He’ll be fine” she changes the subject, I act like I’m listening. We eat. We go back to the ward. We wait 15 minutes.
“Hiya Ethan, welcome back” I hear the nurse, I jump to my feet. I see him, sitting up on his bed, tongue hanging out, eyes rolling, teddy in hand. I feel the sting in my eyes as I thank the same nurse I met earlier, I thank the lovely orderly too.
“Hey buddy”. He smiles, falls to one side and falls into a deep sleep. My boy is back, no machines, no oxygen, just my Ethan and Mr Tumbles, his teddy.
Three hours later he is trying to run in his newly plastered legs, he’s annoyed he has to use a wheelchair, I on the other hand am delighted, my faith in that doctor was well placed and my little hurricane is back, casts or no casts.