Now that we're home, I have acquired a new set of things to be paranoid about: stairs, falling out of bed, falling in general, aaah! And I've also learned that when he's throwing a fit about, say, not having take showers instead of baths until his wound heals, I can't hold him around his middle or grab an arm or I risk hurting him. Fab.
We're on an every six hours Motrin regimen, meaning that one of us had to spring out of bed at midnight and then at 6am to give him more meds. But shockingly, that's it. And we need to keep him from picking at his stitches, scabs or several band-aids. I also read today that he can't ride his trike for TWO MONTHS. That's not going to go over well at all, and we'll be double checking that fact at our follow up appt next week.
Thank you for all the well wishes, visits, kind words and support. It has meant a lot to all of us.
Below are some pics of our journey.
Check in day. About 5:30 am in his scratchy "master" scrubs.
Afternoon after surgery. I remember thinking that he didn't look that pale. Now that I see it again, he was pretty pasty.
Not happy with all his wires and tubes. At one point, he had five of them on one monitor, a heart rate monitor on one hand, needles/port thingies in his other hand, neck and groin, and two painful chest tubes. Boo. Wasn't easy to see.
Transfer wagon from the PICU to his new room in intermediate care.
Once we arrived in the new room, he refused to get on the bed. He was pretty ticked we weren't going home yet.
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