Day #1

Andrew feels pretty horribly today. He is in significant pain, and yet the pain meds make him light headed and dizzy. He has a chest tube in, draining his thoracic cavity. He is hooked up to all sorts of things you would expect. Machines beep at regular intervals, and alarms go off when his respiratory rate drops below 8 breaths per minute. The alarm goes off every time he drifts off to sleep. He had a long night. He is exhausted today. And he barely remembered anything from yesterday. He keeps asking if the cancer is out and if his lymph is clear. And he is so very tender. And so very affectionate.

Last week, we talked to the kids about all the potentially different ways that people can come out of anesthesia — vomiting, angry, crying, etc. Hence, the reason the kids would not be able to see their dad for quite some time after the surgery was done. As it was, Hamilton and I were not allowed into recovery to see Andrew for close to 2 hours, per MDA rules. When we were allowed in, after a bit of question asking and check-ins (that Andrew does not remember) he began saying that he loved me. Again and again. And he was whispering to me how much he loved having Hamilton there. I will never forget this heartfelt time in his life, as intense as it was. And it was so sweet to be able to share this with Miller, Chase and Lang —  that THIS is how their father came out of his anesthesia this time around — in a sensitive, tender place of gratitude.  We are ALL learning so much through this experience.

The kids and I spent the morning with Andrew, and while its such an intense atmosphere and certainly can be “scary”, its real and I was so proud of them for stepping right into his room, assessing the situation/scene and reaching out to touch him with as much gentleness as possible. Lang was thrilled to see that Andrew has a “nose thingy” (cannula) — an especially pretty one at that with a dangling flap that covers his brow to check his respiratory rate, as well as administer oxygen. She then promptly asked about the yellow “oil” draining into a container (urine – catheter). Nothing like a crash course in anatomy and body functions. Chase sat down and said that she “felt like crying”, so Andrew encouraged her to cry. Miller was tender and was the key support in Andrew’s walk around the nurse’s island. Proud son…of his very proud father.

Hamilton is with him now. Its amazing to have Hamilton here — his support and love has been completely invaluable on all fronts.

I have much to say about this journey — how we are beyond fortunate and how we have this incredible honor and privelege to step into this depth of intimacy and love, without harsh consequences, yet for now, again, I leave with you my thanks.

Your prayers and love continue to hold Andrew up and tend to his medical team, so that he continues to receive the best possible care.



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