Crossed eyes, fingers,...heck; crossed everything.
Tuesday, Ethan had a second surgery. This time to stem the flow of spinal fluid out of his previous incision.
The surgery went well, but it was a really hard day. To the very talented pediatric neurosurgeon and her staff, it was a touch up. We didn't hear that take on it until they took him to the operating room.
I called Basia at 7 in the morning, wondering if the CSF leak had improved or... her response was shaky... they were taking him to surgery again at 10. I made calls to friends and woke his big sister. Sarah had two slices of baloney and two slices of american cheese for breakfast and was off to a day with Mrs Loretta and Mr. Mike. I hustled out of the house so fast I forgot her blankey and I smelled quite awful. Fear sweat sucks.
I called for an update when I was fifteen minutes from the hospital. Basia told me that they were going to take him down in 10 minutes or so. While I did not speed excessively or drive aggressively; I can tell you that as long as there are elevators, fat men can run (a short way). I got to the room exhausted, wanting to touch my little boy's head, wanting to embrace my wife and just cry awhile. I got my chance, as the operating room was not available until nearly 11. We spent the time with tears and tenderness; wondering about his survival and wrestling with the balance between our desire and God's Will. In the end, Praise to God, it seems that they will coincide. Regardless, it was a tough morning; one that reminds me how blessed I am to be married to the absolute perfect woman for me. In our weakness we found strength, and today we found smiles.
Ethan--at eight weeks--smiled for the first time. We--after nine days in the hospital--encountered a very satisfied neurosurgeon, who spoke of our going home.
Thank God! and thank you for all your prayers and kind thoughts on the way.