Wednesday, July 12, 2006

Safe at Home

We had another exciting day. (note: This sounds like a whole story building up to a point, but I've had far too little sleep for that to be the case. It's just another Day in the Life kind of entry.)

First, Thomas was discharged from the hospital in the afternoon. Of course, the docs had said, "We might discharge him tomorrow (Wed.) afternoon," but in cancer world and hospital language, that usually means, "You'll be home sometime this weekend." So we were caught off guard and I was stuck with the wrong automobile.

The trach provides a variety of transportation challenges, from carting around Thomas's suction machine to finding places to put the extra trachs, saline drops and other implements. One of the issues is that we have to be able to suction him while we drive.

When you or I make spit in our mouths throughout the day, we swallow it without noticing hundreds of times. Thomas can't do that on his own, so Scott and I vacuum the stuff out every once in a while with a machine like this one. Usually, we turn off the passenger side airbag and put Thomas's carrier in the front of our truck so that we can reach him if he urgently needs suction.

This time, I had the Civic, which meant that the whole time I was trying to maneuver in I-35 traffic, I was holding my breath waiting for something traumatic to happen with Thomas's breathing.

It didn't. What did happen, however, was that after that tricky lane change onto 635's HOV lane, my speed starting dropping rapidly. I floored it, and watched the spedometer keep sinking. Ack! With what was clearly angelic intervention, I crossed all the lanes of traffic and managed to pull uphill and into a service station. Thomas slept through the whole thing. Didn't need suctioning once.

Our car's in the shop now, and we'll see how that turns out. The service manager seemed pretty moved by Thomas's story and promised to make the our car a priority. Honestly, though, I hardly noticed the car (I will - give me three seconds at home without it!). I don't think I really breathed right until we got Thomas home from the hospital in one piece.

A family favorite for bedtime stories when I was growing up was, "It Could Be Worse!" by James Stevenson. This old grump lives with his grandkids and no matter what happens to them, he says ...yeah, you got it. It's really become a mantra for our family. Today, I felt like the next time I opened the book, there we'd be - me, Scott, our sweet kid with cancer, and our steaming car. Could be worse!

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At 6:37 AM, Blogger CTKBC said...

Mama said life is like a box of chocolates....

At 8:04 AM, Anonymous Aunt Kaitlin said...

oh my! Now everyone, pull out your old school Amy Grant and join me with synthesizer and voice:

"there are misses all around me, accidents unknown, but i've never seen with human eyes the hands that laid me home...(dun da dun dun da da da)"

so so glad you're safe!

At 8:28 PM, Anonymous Dee said...

Angels are very much around you Sarah. I'm so glad you and Thomas came through all right!!!


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