Hospital

Sunday night, Bob and I took Joshua over to the Ronald McDonald House to hopefully make Monday morning less stressful. What an amazing ministry run by mostly volunteers. We were warmly welcomed.

I was most worried about Joshua wanting food or water in the morning. He was a champ and never asked as long as he could play with the IPOD. It was the magic pill.

 

We asked for the limo to take us up to the sixth floor and this is what we got. The sweet guy driving was a definite bonus.

 

We were escorted to our room with a view. Seriously, we can see the ocean, the minor league baseball field, and west to the mountains. Watching the helicopter come and go four plus times a day is interesting.  

 

  
How many different positions can YOU play with an ipod? We got Joshua dressed and hung out in the room for awhile. No one seemed like they were in a hurry which for once reassured me. Less mistakes that way. 

 

We rolled up to the cath lab and hung out in the waiting area for an hour or so. People came and went, introduced themselves, we signed papers, they smiled at Joshua.

 

He played the ipod.

 

I wish I knew what he was thinking sometimes.

 Just like on TV, paddles waiting and ready. Not sure how I felt about that kind of drama. Can you hear our nerves revving up?

The one woman in the operating room came to visit Joshua beforehand and they played on her iphone.  She explained that we had to wait because they were preparing extra things for Joshua's procedure.

 In spite of Joshua's condition, I appreciate that most of the time he is simply an eight year old boy.

 After they asked which of us was least likely to pass out, Bob carried him into the operating room where 10 people were ready and waiting. He reported that Joshua bravely put the mask on, dropped the ipod, and away he went to la la land. 

  

A few hours later we were paged and Dr. D met us in the waiting room to give us the results. Most importantly he told us that Joshua did fine during the procedure. We headed back to the room to wait for a call to go to be with him in recovery. 

After an eternity, we were escorted down to the basement to see him and he was CRYING. The nurses were concerned and asked us if we wanted a translator. I tried to tell them he was just scared because we weren't there when we woke up and sure enough, he calmed right down when he knew we were there. 

He drank lots of water, had a red popsicle, and threw it all up. At least I saw it coming. He was pretty mad because he needed to be immobilized for a few hours to prevent bleeding. 

In my emotionally altered state, the only complaint I have about this hospital is that people are calling my kid "Josh". I tried to explain that he barely knows his name is Joshua, knows no English, most of what we say must sound like gibberish, and they still call him Josh.  One nurse even told the nurse taking her place that we wanted him called Joshua then proceeded to continue to call him Josh. Am I ridiculous or what? 

We rolled back up to the sixth floor and settled into our room on pediatrics. Hoping to get to that playroom soon. 

Joshua spent most of afternoon feeling pretty sore and out of it. Around 4:30 or 5:00, he perked up and looked more like himself. Considering all the changes in his life over the last 5 weeks, the language barrier, and the physical pain, Joshua is a courageous boy.