By the numbers

Even though the surgical waiting room may be filled with people, it is still a lonely place.

It had been awhile since I had seen the inside of a surgical waiting room.  Things had changed.  It was bigger, brighter, and more user friendly.  Oddly enough, you had to have a ticket to get in.  I knew you needed a ticket to get on a plane, go to a concert, or see a movie... but a ticket to get in the surgical waiting room?  That seemed a bit strange.  I fumbled around in my pocket, my fingers finding the ticket that the surgical nurse had given me as they wheeled Christopher away into the operating room.


Is this our lucky ticket?

I handed my ticket to the cheerful receptionist at the front of the crowded room who in a helpful tone welcomed us into the surgical waiting room.  He showed us where we could comfort ourselves with  complimentary coffee, tea, and water.  Then he explained the ticket.  He motioned to a large computer screen at the front of the room.  Each patient was listed by their assigned number.  Christopher's number was on the front of my ticket.  The waiting room receptionist explained that the status of each patient would flash across the screen as the surgery began, progressed, and ended.  It was actually very helpful and a vast improvement from the days where your only connection to the operating room was waiting for someone in scrubs to walk through the door.

This was surgery number 14 for me.

This was not my first time at the rodeo.  I knew the routine.  I was familiar with the waiting game.  I had spent many hours counting the floor tiles in many surgical waiting rooms.  I had drank the complimentary, comfort coffee and counted down the endless minutes waiting for the scrub-clad doctor to appear with  news about what had happened since I left my son at the swinging doors to the operating room.  This was surgery number 14 for me, but it was surgery number 1 for Breanna.

As we sat in the comfy chairs waiting for the screen to flash "surgery complete, patient in recovery,"  I could feel Breanna's anxiety rising with each tick of the clock.  This was all very new to her.  She had only known Christopher for a couple of months, so all of this was a bit overwhelming for her.  We looked up at the screen and saw "surgery not started yet."  This was going to be a long wait.

The surgeon had told us that it would probably take an hour or so to complete the operation, but everything depended on what she found once she got inside Christopher's abdomen.  As usual, there were more questions than answers, a fact you come to expect after spending much time in the hospital.  It is a lesson in patience as you wait, and wait, and wait some more.

The screen displayed "surgery in progress."  It was go time.  God was going to work a miracle through the healing and able hands of the surgeon.  Christopher entered the operating room with partially healed holes left by the feeding tubes, but he would emerge with his abdomen completely intact.

Tick tock, tick tock...it seemed like the clock was moving in slow motion.  To fill the time and calm the nervous tension, Breanna and I began to talk about the healing miracle God had done in Christopher.  I answered her questions about Christopher's life and gave her details about the day that God had shown mercy on Christopher and put an end to his feeding tubes forever.  We talked about Christopher's struggles and about God's goodness as we waited for the screen to tell us that the surgery was over.

Passing the time away...

The room was filled with nervous relatives and friends all glued to the computer screen at the front of the room.  Some were reading.  Some were talking.  Some were playing games to pass the time, but ALL were filled with anticipation.  ALL were looking to their new technical friend to give them the news that the wait was over.

Next to Christopher's number it told us the amount of time that he had been under the knife.  30 minutes, 45 minutes, an hour, then an hour and a half went by.  I thought to myself that things must have been more complicated than the surgeon had expected, but I wasn't worried.  I was confident in the surgeon, and I was confident that God was working through the steady, healing hands of our doctor to complete the amazing miracle that He had done in Christopher.  This was just a small detail, a loose end that God was tying up.

Breanna and I continued to chit chat about the life and times of Christopher until we saw the words we had been waiting to see for about the last two hours finally flash across the computer screen "surgery complete, patient in recovery."  We both breathed a sigh of relief.  It felt like we were in recovery too.

Some things may have changed with surgical waiting rooms, but one thing had stayed the same.  After the surgery was over, our scrub-clad doctor came to give us the surgical report.   The operation had gone flawlessly, but when she got inside Christopher's abdomen she had discovered that there was more repair work than expected that she had to do.  She reminded me that the more you tinker around inside the patient, the more it hurts and the longer it takes to heal.  For that reason she was going to admit Christopher to the hospital, so that they could manage his pain and monitor his progress.  She went on to explain that Christopher would be in recovery for a little while longer, and then we could see him.

Breanna and I thanked the doctor and exchanged hugs.  It was over.  The holes were gone.  In a few days this would all be nothing but a distant memory, and Christopher would be back out on the river jumping the wakes on his wake board.





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More tomorrow...