But, as we going upstairs to the OR my friend who is a doctor in the hospital appeared in the hallway. She'd left her family and come to sit with me during the surgery. I couldn't believe it. Seeing her was such a blessing. I wasn't alone. They took my son back to operate on him and shortly after both my Aunt and my brother arrived. I can't tell you how incredible it was to see all of them, to feel like I wasn't alone in the universe.
The surgery took one hour and then the recovery began. To say that he had a bad first night would be an understatement. The poor guy just didn't feel good at all. He screamed that he was in horrific pain even though he was on morphine and slept in between screaming bouts. I, obviously, didn't sleep.
Finally, at six in the morning, he seemed to be pretty alert and the nurse asked him if he'd like to try to an ice pop. He did. But he couldn't keep it down. It was a long morning. But around twelve in the afternoon he finally managed to keep down clear liquids and then eventually solid food. His energy level picked up and by the late afternoon they sent us home.
My husband arrived around two in the afternoon, having crossed the country to get to us. By the time he came, my son was already up and in a good mood. My brother had spent the morning with us, which was a huge help.
I'm so grateful for friends and family today. I'm feeling really lucky. Today, my son is in a pretty good mood. He's walking a little bit tentatively but he's happy and he's here.
Now, if I could just manage to stop feeling so stressed. Best to all of you.