Urology surgery success

We arrive at 11am and exactly 12hrs later, are finally admitted to surgery. It's a gruelling day for all of us, confined to a room with rock hard chairs and signs clearly stating ''No food or drink''. Perhaps that is in sympathy for Reuben who does a mammoth 30hrs without food and much of the first 12hrs without liquid. It becomes quite inhumane and yet Reuben is the essence of patience, signing More More More everytime Jason holds him upside down by his ankles, signing More often before Jason has laid him down to catch his breath in between. After 7 of the 12 hrs we were moved to the Surgical Preparation area, a ruse that we were about to go in and yet at least there is something resembling a comfy seat there.

The wait is broken by home nurse Kristina and mum Margaret paying a visit 90mins across town with gifts which reawaken Reuben and distract us all before he's taken to surgery. Their ginger cookies are called upon in the middle of the night as morning sickness kicks in. So very kind.

At 11pm, having admitted emergency cases before us and overrun on others, Reuben is wheeled away to surgery. We have to thank Dr De F and his anaesthesiologist Dr N for mustering the energy to continue with the case. We study their faces for signs of over fatigue but are given plenty of reassurances and apologies.

They find the lads, hiding way up at the top of the canals where noone could have found them and it takes three sets of keys to access the canals and locate them. The truant rascals.

Needless to say, ENT has long gone home and we'll have to address those issues under anaesthesia another day. (Later, ENT are at least able to confirm both ear tubes are in place).

What then ensues is a very tough night. Every other patient had been sent home or to the wards, so we have the whole recovery to ourselves and one nurse on a 24hr shift with perhaps as much residual energy as us, to help. Reuben struggles and cries in a way he never does. I look up at one point from a wink's sleep to find he's kicked off his covers and is trying to crawl. Distraught with tiredness we forget to ask for the nebuliser or cool mist humidifier but then isn't part of the process of being in hospital, that you can rely on the professionals to take over for a bit? The whole thing is a disorganised shambles. Reuben's breathing is raspy and whistles through his trach. The air is thick with the scent of morphine and fentnyl which brings me right back to the PICU last year. I think with irony how entwined, how inextricably linked with memories, is a sense of smell.

He's home now with his 3 new scars in a row under dressings on his battleground of scars and doing remarkably well. I hope the next 2 laparascopic surgeries to continue the location and descension will be a little more forthcoming in the day though.