July 6th continued..

July 6th

The kind lady behind the desk calls my name. For some reason it sounds strange coming from her mouth. I follow her to another waiting room. This one is small and private. This one is where the Doctor sits with you and reviews the surgery.

"There was more damage to Will's stomach than we originally thought," she says. She then goes through the surgery with me. I nod every few seconds, like everything she is saying makes perfect sense. But it's hard to focus on the words pouring from her mouth. She finally tells me I can go see Will.

Will. My little hero. I am in awe of his strength. His strong spirit inspires me every day.

I quietly enter his room just as the respiratory therapist is listening to his lungs. She takes her time, moving her stethoscope to the proper positions on his chest. She glances at me and gives a quick smile. I stride over to Will's side and place my hand on his. I look at his face and notice there are tears streaming down his cheeks into his ears. His face is scrunched up and I can tell he is in pain.

"Do you know if he's been given something for the pain," I ask the nurse.

"We just gave him a dose of fentanyl."

I feel my temperature rise as I recall conversations earlier in the day. I specifically told several people, including nurses, Doctors, and the anesthesiologist, that fentanyl doesn't affect Will.

"Fentanyl doesn't work for Will," I say, trying to keep my voice even. "He needs something else."

"Fentanyl is actually more powerful than morphine, honey," says the nurse.

Honey? Why is it that because I'm just the mother, I apparently don't know what I'm talking about?

I take a deep breath and explain his history. "I'm not sure if it's because he got it so much in the NICU, but it does not affect him."

"Well," she says, with an air of superiority, "Let's just give him a chance, then maybe we'll switch to the fentanyl drip if he seems like he needs it."

I look at her in disbelief as she moves out of the room. Seriously?!

I turn my attention back on Will and my heart does a little flip. He gags on his breathing tube, furrows his little brow, gags again, and more tears start to appear. The helpless feeling that comes over me is overpowering. I put my face close to his so he can smell me and know I am there. I softly stroke his arm, careful to go around his IV. I whisper a prayer and plead for his relief.

An hour later, my prayer is answered. The doctor strolls in, completing her rounds. I pounce on her as she comes through the door and tell her that Will needs something other than Fentanyl. She takes one look at his scrunched up face and agrees.

Will drifts to sleep and rests for the next two days. We take him home a few days after that and it's like we've been given a new baby. He's not turning blue anymore! One more hurdle down, and feeling very grateful.