to plug a giant hole
Dr. Rizzo is a man of few words. After the surgery, he just said, “the surgery was successful.” I’m like… how? what happened? I need details! I asked him, “what held the rupture together?” He said that the hole was the size of a baseball, but the torn fringes were inflamed and swollen, which helped to reduce the size of the hole. But it was really the giant blood clot that formed and stuck between the front side of his spine and the aneurysm that kept the plumbing intact. Jeff had been on borrowed time because it would not have held for much longer. “Actually, here, I’ll show you the photos.”
Later I would tell Jeff that seeing his empty abdominal cavity and the front side of his spine brings new meaning to our marital intimacy. The photos were incredible. His aorta was completely shredded, tattered. Then Dr. Rizzo showed us the new synthetic aorta that would be a part of Jeff’s vascular system for the rest of his life. It was a gigantic, Y-shaped single piece that graced the back of Jeff’s abdominal cavity from top to bottom, and into his hips. Incredible. “Oh,” Dr. Rizzo casually added, “he didn’t need any blood.” Jeff went through one of the most invasive vascular surgeries around and didn’t need a single drop of blood. Miracles continued to pile up.
As we caught up, I saw a bed rolling by. It was Jeff. After they set him up in his room, Dr. Rizzo got up and said that I could follow him into the CS ICU. There was staff transferring all his bags of fluids and tubes to the ICU equipment. Jeff was still under anesthesia, intubated, hooked up to so many things. I was afraid to touch him because I didn’t want to mess anything up. I sheepishly touched his left hand and found it to be so swollen. I looked at his face and realized that his entire body was swollen. Dr. Rizzo read my expression and told me that they had to pump him full of fluids for the surgery and that the swelling would go down in time. The night attending at the ICU was a very nice female doctor who said that he would sleep all night, and they would watch him. She encouraged me to go home… the ICU closes to visitors at 9pm anyway. I knew he was in good hands, so my friend drove me home.
I slept soundly but woke up early, around 5 am. I thought immediately, “what if he doesn’t wake up?” The nurse had given me the ICU’s phone number, and I called. They told me that he did well during the night and that I should come around 9am when they hope to have completed the extubation. It felt like forever from 5am to 8:30am – I just couldn’t wait anymore and drove to the hospital. When I arrived, they were still extubating him. I kept a little distance because I didn’t want to get in the way of the staff. There was a lot going on!
The same attending from the night before walked over by my side and told me that he was already breathing on his own, and that he looks really good. As I conversed with the doctor, Jeff must have heard my voice. Jeff’s nurse turned around and said, “he wants you to come over.” He can hear me! As I walked closer to the ICU bed, I saw his right arm, gesturing me to come to him. He is awake and alert!! When I got to his bed, I saw that the tube was still down his throat, and he was in a lot of discomfort. He held my hand and tried to spell something. I was so nervous that I would not quickly understand him and that might frustrate him more. “G”… “A”… “G,” he wrote the letters in the palm of my hand. “Gag?” He nodded affirmatively. “You have a tube down your throat. it’s supposed to be uncomfortable. But they are taking it out.” It didn’t matter what I said. He still looked so miserable.
It is so hard to watch your loved one suffer. I had never watched an extubation process – it looked completely miserable. It seemed like forever, but the tube was finally out, and he was trying to talk to me. He can talk! he can form sentences! All the things that we take for granted in our daily lives, I was so relieved and grateful for them.
Those first few hours of him being awake, me being by his side watching him breathe with wonder are some of the most precious memories I will carry with me for the rest of my life. We had passed the most harrowing part of the journey, but we were not clear of all dangers. I knew that we needed to continue to pray to avoid post-surgery complications. The hard part may be just beginning. I was so grateful that I was ready for anything.