Next week Mackenzie, my 8 year old child, has to go into The Royal Belfast Hospital for Sick Children for some exploratory surgery. Thanks to my weird neuromuscular genetic condition it looks like he may have inherited some issues with his muscles which have caused some problems with his own strength and stamina as well as other ‘things’ so, thanks to some pretty great doctors (neurologist, gastro consultant, geneticist, physiotherapist, and pediatrician) and us parents working together, and being proactive about things, he’s scheduled to have a colonoscopy, some scoping and a biopsy to see if things be diagnosed early rather than late.
Now one of the issues I have is a pretty extreme allergy/reaction to anesthetic so surgery is always a problem for me which means that it could be a problem for him too. The surgical team are being really great and while the procedure is normally a day one in Mackenzie’s case they are planning for at least two days, possibly three, depending on how things go (I never come out of anesthetic quickly or easily, for example, and have to go to either ICU or HDU for some help and support afterwards to be brought round so they are planning on this as a precaution with Mackenzie too). So the plan is that Mackenzie goes in the day before the procedure so that a lot of pre-op stuff can be done and the anesthetist can speak to us and make sure that plans are in place and be prepared; next day the surgery will happen and then Mackenzie will go to recovery and probably be transferred to either the regular children’s ward for observation or ICU/HDU for a little extra support for 24 hours.
…normally it is me in hospital, having things done, and it isn’t so worrying; in fact it happens so often I’m pretty blasé about it now. When it is one of the little ones, however, it is so MUCH more terrifying.