It's been a long two months, but finally, Chase has had his surgery and his spleen has been removed. He made it off the ventilitor, something the docs in Dallas feared wouldn't happen, but it did. He is fine, his lungs are fine, and without that big bloated pain-inducing dying spleen, he is looking wonderful.
Right after surgery, though, he looked terrible. DH and I got to go in right as C was having a coughing spasm, and he had tubes coming out his nose and throat. As strong as I was trying to be, I couldn't. I lost it right there. Thank God DH volunteered to stay with him those first couple of days. I really couldn't do it. The only consolation was that I knew with the meds he was on, that he wasn't in pain, nor would he remember any of it. In fact, he doesn't remember anything from those first three days. I always will though.
When he did wake up, I was talking to him, telling him how strong his body was, what a miracle he was, when I realized he was responding with his fingers. He could barely move, couldn't speak because of the tubes, but we figured out how to communicate. I kept reasurring him that I was there, mom was there, that he'd never be left alone, and I watched his body relax. It was heartbreaking. But fortunately he doesn't remember any of that either.