This week Joy was in the hospital. She had her tonsils and adenoids taken out and had tubes put in. I went by myself. We stayed overnight and we came home. Joy is scheduled around the clock on some good meds. She’ll be fine. I was never worried or nervous.
It was interesting to note the differences between Joy and Bella’s experiences in the hospital. Talking to the anesthesiologist with Joy is almost a joke. The kid has no problems, a little GERD, please give her something for that. She is healthy. She has no complications. No phase sheet. Nothing. We were sent to the Abercrombie building for our overnight stay. Bella has never been well enough to go there. The nurses tried to explain to me what a pulse ox machine was. I just nodded my head. I was fielding questions from home that were more medical in nature than any of the care they gave to Joy. But I was glad we were there. We had a night of quiet (relative quiet – it is still a hospital). Joy rested and slept. We were discharged and we went home. I compared that to my feelings when we are in house with Bella – what a contrast! I don’t trust the nurses, residents, and doctors with my Bella. I am on edge and nervous the whole time. I am annoyed by the rules and regulations. I am annoyed by the delays. I just want to take care of my baby, but instead I have to sit and watch people that don’t know and don’t love my baby do their best, but it’s not as quick or in the way that I would do it. Interesting to learn that I only trust the hospital with the little stuff.
Side story: While Joy was having her surgery, I went to grab a bite to eat, knowing it was my only food for that day. As I walked the halls of that hospital I saw again in my mind’s eye so many haunting memories. I relived them. (as I do every time we go down there) “I sat there after we learned Bella’s open heart surgery was over.” “I sat on the floor there waiting for the news of her emergency surgery.” “I cried there.” “Those are the doors leading to the ICU. The Catholic priest that came and blessed Bella was sitting at the table right inside that door drinking coffee and reading the paper.” “Those are the doors leading to the transport elevators”, and on and on. As I walked, I saw a woman carrying around her little girl, probably five. She had the tell tell signs of cancer treatment. I thought of that little girl and all she has endured and thought to myself, “There is a warrior.” As my eyes continued to watch them, I noticed how her mother walked around ever holding onto her child and I added, “There is a warrior, her mother. She is the one that has to take her to all the treatments and torture. She is the one that has to hold her daughter down while they treat her. She is the one that out of love must make her daughter suffer. She is a warrior.” I ate what I could and returned down memorized corridors to the elevator bank to return and wait for my baby girl.
Another comparison story: Just before they took Joy back to the OR, the hospital volunteers offered Joy a small green teddy bear. She gratefully and delightedly accepted it! She loved on it while she convalesced. She brought it home and showed it off to her sisters. She named it. Bella, on the other hand, HATES stuffed animals. And I understand why. Every time someone tries to shove a needle up her arm or do something that is going to hurt, they offer her a stuffed animal. She doesn’t want it. She wants the pain to end and for people to leave her alone. Her OT and I were talking today about how she fears just about everything. Why shouldn’t she? Joy had such a great hospital stay because she didn’t understand what was coming or what it would feel like. Bella does. I am so grateful that Bell has gotten so much better. I want to do everything I can to make sure the rest of her life makes up for the first three and a half years and all she went through.
Final conclusion: Hermann Children’s Hospital is much more efficient and organized at Day Surgery. Texas Children’s Hospital has a bigger waiting room. The end. :)