PICU

It’s 10:30 pm. Caden lies in the bed recovering from surgery, and Steph sleeps on the reclining chair that doesn’t stay reclined. They are so peaceful. I hear a call go over the loud speaker, “Code Green RB.6.508,” and repeats, “code green RB.6.508.” I think to myself, “I’m glad that’s not our room; how would that be if it were our room?” Out of curiosity, I look at what our room number is to see if it is close to us. I read RB.6.507 and realize that I am starting to hear a lot of excited voices just outside my door. I noticed about an hour earlier that a small child was brought out of surgery and placed in the room just next to us. That room was vacant about two hours ago.

I glance over at Steph and Caden, both sleeping soundly. Yet just outside our door, and in the room next to us is organized chaos. Voices are loud with an urgent tone. I’m hearing words like, compressions, paddles, calcium, crash cart, code, O negative, and epi. The room is next to us and cattycorner at the same time since the rooms share the corner of the PICU (Pediatric Intensive Care Unit).

The curtains in our room are drawn closed in order to keep the light out with only a foot opened up to the nurses area. I realize that our room also shares a window with that room and wonder if perhaps I might be able to see what’s going on. The curtains on our side of the window as well as the curtains on their side are cracked just a bit. There are people all around the bed. One of them is doing chest compressions and another is squeezing the breathing bag to pump air in and out of the lungs. I’ve been in the OR probably a hundred times and have never seen CPR in person. Some of the people move apart, and I can see the face of a beautiful child about 4 years of age. I have a 4 year old. I also have a child who is in the same type of room recovering from a major surgery as well. I look over at Caden again and back to the next room. I am so blessed to have waited 11 hours to hear great news, and continue to hear great news as things progress. I hear a voice call for someone sterile to take over compressions. At least a dozen people are helping and everyone is gradually getting into sterile gowns.

I can’t do anything to help; I wish there were something. Wait, maybe there is. I look back at the empty bench and immediately make the decision to get on my knees. I take my time in order to receive revelation to know what to pray for. I don’t know the will of the Lord, but I know that He can make anything happen in the room next me. I feel so much sorrow for the parents. Are they in the waiting room? Were they in the room with their child when it started? Either way, they are deeply concerned, and they want more answers than are available. The prayer doesn’t make me feel much better. I’m not on my knees anymore, but the prayer remains in my heart. That could have been my child; it still could be my child. That thought is chilling.

A half an hour goes by and I check again on the progress. Someone else is doing the chest compressions now. They seem to be setting up the room as an OR, a sight I’m very familiar with and recognize it right away. Only, when I’ve seen it done it was actually in the OR. The room is all sterile now. I see just enough to know that that is this hospital newest Operating Room. I knew that all ICU rooms in this hospital and many inpatient rooms are set up with everything necessary to convert them into an operating room in cases like this. The face of the child is still unchanged. I briefly wonder if I’m about to watch this child pass into the next world or if I possibly already did watch that happen. I’m not interested in seeing that, so I walk away and sit down.

It’s been almost an hour now. I look again and see two surgeons, another familiar scene. They have their suction, bright head lights, mayo stand, magnification lenses. I hear someone announce that flouro (x-ray) is here and catch a glimpse of the C-arm roll in. This is now a full operation to save this child’s life. I hope and pray that they succeed. I hope and pray that this is the will of the Lord. I realize that the parents are just outside the room near the nurses’ station watching the whole thing. They were in the room when it all began. This must be the hardest time in their lives by far. The big surgery that this child came from a couple hours ago was over, but a new one has begun. They probably heard that word, “stable” when they brought him/her into the PICU. That word that we kept hearing, “stable”, is not a word they are hearing right now. I remember mocking that word, since that was literally the only news we got of Caden as he was in his surgery. Don’t ever take that word for granted again. Those parents would do anything for “stable”.

Then I realize, that child may not have just come from a surgery. They almost sent Caden to the ICU when he wasn’t doing well during and just after round one of chemo. His body was filling with fluid and his vitals were dropping continuously. This could have been Caden months ago. This child could be in the PICU for hundreds of reasons. All I know is, I have so much to be grateful for.

The Lord has chosen to keep all of our family together in this world. I think of what is happening in the next room while Steph and Caden sleep peacefully. My mind is taken to Steph’s recent post, “while you were sleeping”. I watch both of them sleep now and can’t help but feel so much gratitude and love for them. All of my children are sleeping right now. We have much to be grateful for, and my love for them increases exponentially as I think about each and every one of them while they sleep.

After midnight now. I can’t sleep.

12:45 am update: In the room next door -  I see a transfusion bag, hear monitors beeping pretty normally, and see no surgeons, that's a good sign.

4:30 pm update: Another emergent surgery happened at 9:00 am this morning in the room next to us. They keep taking more machines into the room, not much space left. A doctor talks about option and plans with the parents just outside the room. They seem to be keeping it together pretty well. I don't envy them and the conversation they are having right now. The conversation we just had regarding the pathology of the tumor was awesome. I think Steph is getting ready to blog about it, so I will leave that to her. We continue to pray for the little boy in the room next door.