How We Really Feel

People comment on how relaxed and laid back that Chris and I are when discussing Simon's surgery. For those who fully get the reality of what our baby has to endure again this week, they shake their heads in amazement when we mention that this surgery will be "minor" compared to the previous two. Well, if the tests show no pressure and the surgery ends up being a cover-up procedure, then, yes, this one is minor in comparison. It's all relative, though. This surgery is nowhere being as minor as, let's say, ear tube placement. (Oh, don't get me started about the moms who spend days freaking out about ear tube surgery. They really need to find a hobby.) The reality, no matter what they do, is that my baby will once again get slit from ear to ear, have his scalp peeled back, and have a bunch of strangers poking around his skull. We will sign paperwork that acknowledges that we are aware of death as being a possible complication. Blood will be waiting in case a transfusion is needed, and insurance codes have been pre-approved just in case they have to go further and take his skull apart again. Taking the skull out means that the only thing separating Simon's brain from open air will be the dura, the brain's covering.
Yes, we've been through this before, but that does not make it any less scary. We just now have advanced knowledge of what to expect during recovery. Add to the equation Simon's age, and this whole thing just got downright terrifying. How are we going to cope with a very aware 7-1/2-year-old through this? We will find out this week. So, when we talk about the surgery and seem to shrug it off, know that you are not seeing how we really feel. Me? I am fucking terrified. We just do not see a point to having everyone around us, including Simon, get too worked up. Simon needs for us to be calm and steadfast, his rocks in this storm. He has to trust that we are there and that everything will be okay. Inside, though, is a different story.