When Tristan was little he was hospitalized 4 times. It was a combination of hypospadias and his hemophilia which made these hospitalizations neccesary. Besides being operated on the hypospadias, he also received a portacath, an implanted catheter which was supposed to make it easier for us to inject him for his hemofilia.
Because of his hemofilia, he had to stay in hospital a lot longer than any other child. First it took a day to get his clotting levels up to "normal" and then he had to stay while the healing proces went on. An IV with clotting factors was either attached to his hand or his foot during the whole proces. Amazingly enough, he has no trauma from any of these hospitalizations.
We do though! Although trauma might be too big of a word. But one thing we learned and adhere to strictly is to be VERY VERY ALERT during all hospital visits. A lot of things could have gone wrong if we hadn't been alert enough to pay attention to every detail.
I have mixed memories of all these hospital visits. One of the times, we were actually on vacation. He developed a high fever, sign of infection, and halfway the holiday I went to hospital with him. His portacath was infected and needed to be removed. So Herman and I spent the rest of the holiday travelling back and forth to the hospital by turns, driven by our loving wonderful friends each way. That way Marinda had her vacation and we each got a couple of days break. The funny thing is I have good memories of that vacation despite the fact that Tristan was in hospital!
Another time I remember him feeling perfectly well after his surgery. His first hypospadias surgery hadn't worked, and this was the second repair job. One of my friend made a gift box for him, one gift for every day. He got an extra long IV so he was even able to ride a tricycle through the hospital hallways. And that time we celebrated Marindas birthday in the hospital, in the rec room, with a couple of family members. During his surgery we went to visit a friend who had just given birth to her son in the same hospital.
The "severity" of it all has faded into the past. It's only when I look at the pictures that I remember the strain of being alert all the time, of sleeping next to a bleeping, beeping, peeping machine. Of breathing the rarified air of the hospital. Of feeling lost in time and encapsulated, like the days lasted forever. Of a knot of tension in my stomach when he went under. I also remember feeling grateful for friends coming to visit, feeling secure that things were going all right at home, knowing that people were praying for us.
It was a strange time. I hope it doesn't need repeating.

2 reacties:

Jennifer @ Conversion Diary said...

Oh, wow, that is so difficult. I pray that you never have to go through that again.

blood4 said...

hello from Brazil,
i loved your blog : so full of life with all its colors!
wellcome at my blog where i have put some of my work, ideas and tools to cope with hemophilia...maybe you'll like it.
The game ad tool called Hemoaction would be great for Tristan.
a big hug

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