How to mend a broken heart

Leading up to this day I started reviewing her old (I say old, but really it is only barely a month) paperwork. While in Nanning we got a disc of pictures and reports from a charitable organization (Grace and Hope) that had sponsored her while she was in foster care. In fact, the wonderful people that sponsored her kept her in foster care as opposed to the orphanage. Yes, it literally was one of those-for the price of a cup of coffee a day-things.




What we have is priceless as it it yet another piece of her past. We can read about games she would play and things that interested her, and more importantly photos. It is silly, I know, but I look at the photos and see her with her foster mom and family-see her so happy- and it feels like I am reading old love letters of my wife's from whomever and feeling a sadness of not being there. You can't help but get a little jealous. Like, hey! you can't be happy without us! You study every word looking for clues hoping to read about how her family is coming, only thing is she had a family.



We new this day was coming since we locked her file on December 18th of 2009. We knew what lied ahead and always held out the hope that it would be a misdiagnosis, that someone made a mistake. Even after meeting her, she exuded no signs other than a heart that sounds like a washing machine instead of a drum. Still grasping, maybe it isn't as bad as we think. All that went away after the catherization with Dr. Ing. Reality was here and knocking very loudly.

It is pouring rain this morning, I quickly think back to the Temple blessing and Cordelia's "Distinguished Guests" comment. And how.

The clock was set and ticking, thankfully it was on a quick timer so we really did not have much time to think or plan. We just knew it was coming, bracing for the impact, assuring ourselves that this was the right thing to do, we were at the best place to do it, sooner was better than later, we had done our part and now it was out of our hands.



All was well (i.e. was holding it together) until the volunteer chaplain came in and asked to pray for Wren, at that very moment the thought that she might mot make it through entered my mind. You immediately try to excise the thought, I can't think about that now, let me wait until she is out of the room, I have to hold it together for her so she will not be scared. So, my mind went to comedy as its defensive device. The guy looks just like the dude from Poltergeist 2, the one who knocks on the door. He was a very sweet and loving man, and my mind was bad for associating him with a scary ghost, but you gotta do what you gotta do to make it through.

The prayer ended and the anesthesiologist came in and gave her some happy juice. She drank the battery acid. (with my assistance-daddy has to put the villain hat on for medicine taking sometimes- the dreaded hold and tilt) She responded pretty quickly and I got to spend some great quality moments with her as went went through the whole cycle of games we play together. My new favorite is butterfly kisses. She has these long beautiful eyelashes, and I just can't help myself. She laughed and giggled and I kissed her. Then it was time. I laid her down on the bed and quickly turned away. I only needed to hold it together for another minute or two. They started to wheel her off and I could not look over, so mommy took it for the team. In fact I couldn't look at Shana (my mirror) for another few minutes.


She was off, it was happening. At long last, we were starting the process to fix her broken heart.



The surgery was a success. Dr. McKenzie is a rock star. All that he had anticipated came to fruition. The band took right away and she was intubated in the OR which put her on schedule for a quick recovery. The hospital gave us regular updates every 1.5 hours right on schedule.

At one point we went downstairs and choked down some Chick Fil A for lunch just to have something in our stomachs.

When we went back up we met with the surgeon and he told us it went great and that we could see her in about an hour. It went fairly quickly, Shana looked up at me and asked how could I be working, and I told her it was a good distraction. The waiting area was interesting as one group threw down the entire Frito Lay catalog and ripped open all nine packages and had a dim sum of chips. They proceeded to crunch with reckless abandon, it sounded like they were on the intercom. Chomp chomp Crunch Crunch slurp slurp...it smelled like corn nuts. I was ready to go.

At last we went up to the 18 th floor and there she was. It looked like when Neo was freed from his jelly pod in the Matrix. Tubes everywhere. It sounds like Dr. Frankenstein's lab. There is some kind of liquid bubbling, the myriad of tubes and the charts, and there she was. Lying on her back, strapped down (so as to not pull any chords out) and then we could see where the incision was made. It was brutal, and painful to see her in such a state. We both instantly thought-what have we done to this little girl?!





So, yes it is hard, it is painful to look at, and we will have to do it again in 6 -8 months, but if it means that I can continue to give this child butterfly kisses for decades to come then I will gladly suffer now.