I want to start of with an apology. I feel as though I have let you, the reader, down and feel terrible for doing so. I have not posted since October. I have been overwhelmed with friends' diagnoses and an overbearing emotional detachment in our own situation. Well, I'm back! I have decided that I will begin including where we are now, with Chey's illness, so we can get to a current place in time. I believe it will keep my mind and emotions in a much better place. Hope you all are enlightened by, and possibly encouraged by the blog.
Well, we left off last time with Chey leaving the recovery room and being moved up to a room.
Cheyenne was diagnosed with Papillary Thyroid Cancer on March 18th, 2015 and had surgery to remove her thyroid, on the following Good Friday!! Cheyenne was really out of it from the anesthesia and, to be honest, I think we were too! I know I felt exhausted and everyone else there, supporting us, had to be also.
My sister Terri, had driven all night from Kansas City (SURPRISE!!) and had not rested yet. We all traipsed upstairs to the room. If you haven't ever been to Texas Children's Hospital, it's worth the drive just to look around the facilities. It's a world class hospital and is geared completely for the pediatric patient! (If you ever find yourself with some extra cash and are looking for a worthy recipient-TCH is your place.) When you walk down the halls there is art displayed everywhere and the majority of it has been done by patients at the hospital or by children that have donated to them. I find it truly amazing that other children take time to make someone else's misery a little easier to handle through this simple gesture.
As a nurse, I noticed all of the boards showing how much these people care about what they are doing. On any given hallway wall you will see notices of how long the staff has gone without incidence of preventable infections of one kind or another. It is comforting for this parent, to know the nurses care so much about their charges that they are willing to put these stats out there for everyone to see. From my medical background, not everyone is so forthright!!
When you come to the floor, you have to go through a screening and must be buzzed into the patient area. If you don't have clearance you will not be allowed to enter. I think it is a great system. Some of these children are extremely ill and their immune systems are very weak so you must be diligent. It is commendable that THC carries this safety issue as far as they do! The rooms are beautiful and spacious to boot. Chey's room had a window area that was the full length of the room and looked out over the medical district. There is a sofa that converts to a bed, (for me), plenty of closet space and a TV with DVD player. The kiddos can watch regular TV or bring their favorite videos to watch. Each room also has a private bathroom with a shower and tub.
Like I said, we were exhausted so Terrie and Ed had headed back to the Ronald McDonald House and I planned to tuck in on the sofa for the night. As you would expect, staff came in pretty frequently to check on Chey. They tapped her face, checked the compression leg wraps and they took blood samples often via a finger stick. For small children this is okay, but for my teenager - NO BUENO! She was not happy with this because it made her finger so sore. She would have much rather had them draw it through the vein each time. Cheyenne slept pretty deeply in between visits, but I did not. It absolutely had nothing to do with the hospital staff or noise level, I simply kept listening to make sure my child was breathing. For those who know me well, you can probably imagine me sitting in a ball, on that sofa, watching and getting up to tap her face myself! You betcha, I did it over and over and over again.
Morning came and Chey had a light breakfast. Ed and Terri brought mine and while they were en-route, Dr. Paul (another endocrinologist) along with one of the Residents came in to see Cheyenne. Dr. Paul is a very tall and lanky fella. He is a mustached-man with his salt and pepper hair swept to the side. There was a twinkle in his eyes and a crease between the brows. He also smiles most of the time. Chey was more awake, but still not herself, and was a little cranky. Now, I love my children very much, but they both have extremely dry (sometimes cutting) sense of humors. When Chey does it, it is very subtle but wicked and you just don't expect it AND when she is cranky - watch out!
One of the things I love most about TCH, is the way the doctors are able to keep the atmosphere very relaxed. Dr. Paul is no exception, and he has quite a sense of humor himself! Anyway, Chey and Dr. Paul were bantering back and forth about her truck (a '68 Chevy) and Ag things. Dr. Paul asked her something, for the life of me I can't remember, and BAM! She nailed him. The Resident covered his mouth and cracked up, so did I. Dr. Paul never skipped a beat, he drew his imaginary sword and slashed it through the air. We all laughed so hard. Well, everyone but Chey, that is. She just sat there with a little half grin on her face, knowing she had gotten him!
I love this place like no other, they make our troubles bearable!
After the bantering was completed, they examined Chey and gave us a run down of the plan. As you can imagine, Cheyenne was extremely tired and flat worn out, but she was restless and ready to go home. After undergoing surgery, being poked and prodded, and everything else she had gone through over the last two days - Cheyenne wanted a bath!
Here in America, we take a lot of things for granted. Sometimes it takes a shock to wake us up and realize how really lucky we are to live in this great country and have access to the things we do. Many of these things are just a given and you don't give a second thought to not having them. Not so true in other parts of the world. Our nurse, on this shift, was from the Caribbean. She was an RN and seemed very knowledgeable about her duties. She smiled a lot and seemed genuinely concerned about my daughter's welfare but, then we came to the tub....
When the nurse came in checking on Chey, she bent over and was tapping Chey's cheek and I asked, "Do you think it would be okay for her to take a bath?"
She looked at me as she cocked her head to the side and said, "What's a bath?"
I just looked at her dismayed, very briefly, and responded, "You know, in the bathtub." She still didn't seem to comprehend what I was asking.
Cheyenne looked at me, her eyes wide with wonder and maybe a little terror too. She certainly was wondering what I was going to say.
I tried to explain. "You know, in the tub. You run water in it and then splash water up on you and bathe, like a shower but sitting down in the tub."
She didn't say anything and turned and left. I know my face was turning red. I did not want to embarrass her or hurt her feelings but I was afraid I had.
My sister looked at us and said, "You've got to be kidding me, she doesn't know what a bath is?"
And so began our discussion about how other places do not have what we consider basics and how so many things are totally foreign to them. I had gone to Jamaica in my early 20's and on excursions into the countryside, I saw the squalor so many native people lived in. Many of the homes were just little shacks and I don't think they, individually, had running water. Even at that age it just broke my heart and I was much more grateful for what I had.
Having said that, we were all a bit amazed that with her education level she still did not know what a bath was. The only thing we could imagine was that she was envisioning a bed bath, which would have been extremely awkward for my kiddo. After a while, when she hadn't returned, I did what I do and ran a bath. Cheyenne was still pretty wobbly, so I assisted her to the bathroom and closed the door. I helped her get undressed and into the tub.
She looked at me as I sat down on the edge of the toilet and said, "Okay, you can leave now!"
Of course, I didn't. "Are you nuts? I can't leave you in here alone when you're halfway to the moon."
She rolled those pretty blues at me but gave up the protest. It ended up that she really did need me. She was sore and very worried about getting any water on her incision. I enjoyed the heck out of it! The memories of bathing my babies came back in a rush and it was really hard to contain them and not bust out bawling. I just kept talking to her and kept the tears at bay. We hurried along and even so, she was shivering. I helped her out of the tub and swathed her in towels and she finally got to get into her own jammies.
Eventually, the nurse did come back in and told us a bath would be fine. We all just looked at each other, smiled, and said, "Thank you."
I was relieved the group hadn't spilled the beans that we had already done it! I know it must shock some people when I just take things into my own hands, but it is the only way I know how too. If I see something that needs done, I just take care of it. We tidied up the room as Chey napped and waited to see about discharge.
Next time, Brazil or bust...
XXOO Make Everyday Count
Bonnie
