We have had a couple of really rocky days here.
Last Thursday was Kingsley's MRI. The morning began as usual until I got a call from my mom telling me that my aunt had passed away in the night. She had had health problems, but this was unexpected nonetheless. It was a heart attack that was the conclusion to a number of very hard years for her. I am so sad to lose the wonderful woman that she was. I know that she's at peace now, but I'm just so sad.
Kingsley's appointment was supposed to be at noon. The poor guy had not eaten since 6:30 the night before and was doing so incredibly good about it when we checked in at 11:30. We were told that they were behind by about 30 minutes. Thirty turned into 60, then 90, then 2 hours. He finally went in just after 2:30. It took him longer to fall asleep this time, which was horrible. I just held him while they held the mask on his face and he cried and cried. I hate that part so much, but I cannot imagine him going through it without me there.
I have heard mom's say before that they feel badly complaining about how scared they were when their kids went in for tonsil removals or other routine procedures, because compared to brain surgery they are not that serious. I'm telling you though, it doesn't matter what the procedure. Kingsley was put under a general anesthetic, he had an IV and was intubated for his MRI. That's all and I was about as terrified for this as I was for his two brain surgeries. Trusting people to do things to your child is a very scary thing. With my heart in my throat, I waited the long hour and a half until he came out.
They rolled him out and I could just not believe how big and brave he looked, lying there on the bed with his head on a pillow like a big kid. They said he didn't cry or even whimper in recovery. So proud of that guy. We took him home and he was back to himself within the hour.
I had begged them to send us an email as soon as they saw the scans, no matter the results. I needed to know if I could relax or if I should cancel Christmas and start arranging childcare. I did get an email the next day and the answer was somewhere in between. The syrinx is still there, that nasty devil. I did not know that it was possible to hate a part of my son so deeply, but I hate that syrinx with all my being. I want it gone from our lives or at least made insignificant. Instead, it haunts us. It may or may not be causing these problems. It may or may not require more surgery. It's not urgent, but it's not good.
We have our follow up appointment first thing tomorrow morning and then King's neurosurgeon will assess him and let us know her thoughts about surgery in the new year.