Namine is asleep. I just got back from walking Jessica to our car, so she can go home and get some sleep. Not the proto-sleep of lying in the hospital bed – and I use the term “bed” loosely – but actual rest in our own comfy pillow-top. I will stay here for the night, awake and vigilant. The nurses have been quite attentive to Namine, mindful of her pain and discomfort, but I trust them only so much.
Namine is starting to wake up today. She’s not a very happy camper, as the saying goes, but she was awake and lucid enough – before they gave her some morphine for the pain – to tell me, “Get me out of here! Get your little girl out of here!”
The nurse said, “We need to make you feel better first.”
Namine responded with “I feel better already! Get me out of here!”
Namine is tucked into her bed, in her own room, here in the ICU. Her numbers look good, and doctors are optimistic about her postoperative recovery. Jessica and I are settled into our own little corner of the room, and, with Namine sleeping, are starting to relax a little. Maybe.
Namine completed her third heart surgery, a fenestrated Fontan procedure.
The OR nurse just stopped in to tell us that they’ve started to warm Namine back up. It won’t be long now, and one of us will be allowed to go back and see her. They’ll be keeping her sedated for some time, though; we’ve been told to expect her to be in a significant […]
Not too long ago, the OR nurse came back to give us a status update. It took awhile to get Namine’s lines in, but now they’re getting ready to put her on the heart-lung machine. She was intubated without incident, and she’s doing well. Waiting is the hard part, and we’re in it for the long haul. We look forward to the nurse’s visit in another hour to let us know how our little love is doing.
Saying goodbye never gets easier. Just about a half hour ago, we left Namine in the doctors’ care, screaming for us. Screaming for us not to leave her, to please, please come back with her. My heart breaks every time. My goddamn heart. But it’s not for my heart – it’s for hers. Today is the day we’ve looked forward to and dreaded for five years: the Fontan. Today is the final step in the three-stage process to make Namine’s heart function without further medical intervention.