Tay’s Scoliosis Journey: Pre-Op

The whole time we have been prepping for this moment Taylor has been doing her own research on what to expect. While she has some nerves about what is to come, she is also able to make light of what is happening. I am pretty sure this is an inherited defense mechanism because I also use humor to rally my strength to navigate the hard stuff. Her biggest worry is having a catheter after surgery. Imagine that! She is having a major surgery that has a risk of paralysis and her biggest worry is having a catheter.

As I have said before, Taylor has been put at ease by her surgeon because he is confident, but not arrogant and he is really great at making sure he answers her questions honestly and with a complete explanation. He is also great at reminding me she is grown up enough to have her own questions as I do what I do best and ask all of the questions for all of the answers. I am being moved to the background as she is now the adultish patient and I am just there to support her. Is that what having grown children feels like? I am not so sure I am onboard with that feeling. She also likes him because his last name is Yang, like Cristina Yang on Grey’s Anatomy, her latest Netflix Binge show. Naturally, he must be brilliant.

While we were meeting with Dr. Yang, he brought up the latest x-rays and the CT scan to show us what was going on and explain to us his plan of action. Taylor and I looked at each other and our jaws just dropped! We knew it was bad because of the growing hump, but we never would have imagined the images we saw.

Shockingly impressive, right?

Part of preparing for a surgery during this pandemic means getting a COVID test done two days before. No more. No less. Of course I lied to her and told her it wasn’t a big deal, even though I haven’t actually had the test done myself and I know a few people who have had it done and they have all reported it is terrible.

There are two testing sites in Portland, neither one close to the hospital. It makes sense when you think about it, but neither one was close to where we were staying either, so we ventured out and decided to make an afternoon of it, stopping for brunch and of course, the most delicious cake around. You may send me Nothing Bundt Cake if shipping it is a thing.

The line for the testing was long. We decided we should probably have eaten first. When we started getting farther in, probably about tent 3, someone asked if one of the parents needed a test done as well. I advised them that I was just told we had to be healthy. I would imagine that if they needed to have me take a test, they would have made it a point to tell me a hundred times. I hard passed and we got the information straightened out that the regulation for the hospital had changed and they were no longer requiring that.

Taylor had heard the swab would take ten seconds. I had heard five. I didn’t actually count how long it took, but the kid sat there and took it like a champ. She didn’t move at all. I think this is because she heard that if you move they would need to do it again. Her explanation of her experience went a little something like this: COVID testing feels like a stabbing shot in the nose, sending your body into shock before you can realize you have been lied to. You are then quickly victimized by the burning pain you get when accidentally inhaling water.

This pain lasts more than just a few minutes. Her nose was still tingling hours later. She didn’t complain once. She is a rock star. Waiting for the test results was surprisingly stressful for me. I kept checking my phone like we were waiting for the results of a life threatening illness, although I guess we kind of were. We had to have confirmation that the surgery we have been planning on for six months wouldn’t be put off because of this crazy pandemic. She tested negative, like we had expected, but there is always that small chance that she could have been positive because that is how this year seems to be going.

This COVID business has really put a wrench in our perfectly timed plan because we scheduled this surgery for the week after school was supposed to get out so she would have plenty of time to recover over the summer. We had also planned on her having a Drivers Ed class finished by now, but apparently you can’t do Drivers Ed online. Weird. We will have to finish parent training once she can move her body enough to check her blind spots. This probably means she can’t resume driving practice for at least 8 weeks depending on how much she is walking and working to strengthen her core muscles. Most importantly, we had planned on having a nice support system with plenty of visitors while she was recovering.

My parents drove up from Idaho to stay at the hospital and host us in their RV. We were going to bring Kaiden with us and they were going to take him around Portland doing activities while she was in surgery and then again to keep him occupied during the day while we took turns visiting Taylor. With all of the COVID restrictions at the hospital and much of the state still shut down, we had to adjust those plans.

Due to the COVID restrictions, my parents can’t come into the hospital and only one parent is allowed in the surgical waiting area, but they can assign you and the other parent to a waiting area in the main lobby. They will give me a pager to come up when there is something to report.

Luckily, two parents are now allowed to be in her room once she is out of recovery. My heart sinks at the thought of sitting alone or having to choose to go farther away from her if something were to happen. The most important time for support is during the procedure itself. Most spinal fusion surgeries only take a few hours, but due to the complexity of her case, they have her scheduled for about seven hours. Imagine being a parent, sitting there alone, waiting for updates. I am not sure what to expect tomorrow, but I know that I will be fully supported while I support her.

So we are now just waiting. Waiting for bedtime. Waiting for the alarm to go off in the morning. Waiting for surgery time. It is easy to get caught up in the anxiety of not knowing what the next day will bring. As a parent, my thoughts are running wild about all of the what ifs. It is terrifying to think about the possibilities, even though I know the chance of those possibilities becoming a reality is low. My logical brain tells me not to worry. My mom heart is breaking and twisted into knots. For now, I am staying strong with a mask of confidence. I need to keep it together even though I want to fall apart. I want her to know that being nervous is normal, but that one way or another, everything will be okay. The only thing I can do is breathe in, ground myself, and get ready for the long day that lies ahead.