Day +75: An Apology to Cavemen

In reading the abundant comments from last night's post I feel I must right a wrong. I surely didn’t mean my entry to be interpreted as it was, demeaning and condescending to a segment of society that already suffers the pains and indignities of relentless prejudice and stigmatization. So an apology is in order. I sincerely regret any slights that may have inadvertently been cast through this forum. From this point forward I shall do my best to foster an unbiased understanding of this all-too-often misunderstood and undervalued segment of our population – Cavemen.

C’mon, let’s give ‘em a break.

With that out of the way, let’s get back to the focus of this blog - Keith. I don’t suppose too many people look forward to surgery – certainly none in our household do. Keith cleverly did everything he could to delay the inevitable like trying to stay up extra late the night before and resisting getting out of bed this morning. Aside from these gestures he offered up little vocal or physical resistance to the inevitable rendezvous with the day hospital at Children’s Oakland. We arrived at the appointed hour for his physical exam and blood draw but found ourselves sitting in the waiting area longer than Keith was able to endure with his respirator mask on. Finally we asked if we could wait in an exam room instead and, sure enough, we were led into one pronto. Doh! - Why didn’t we ask sooner? Once Keith was able to remove his mask and breathe again he felt much better.

In preparation for the possibility of enrolling in an open clinical trial for ongoing therapy, several special lab tests needed to be completed and because this is a rare or possibly unique circumstance for Children’s Oakland they have been working closely with Stanford to coordinate this staging and ‘work up’. This may have been a factor in why it took much longer to get through the procedures today than we had foreseen.

Around mid-day Keith walked down the long hall and into the operating suite under his own power and climbed up onto the procedure table. In an effort to relax everyone including himself he made a point to mention to the doctors not to ‘steal’ his shoes while he was sleeping (we actually did lose his shoes back in August in the ER when he was first admitted). Everyone laughed as he lay down on his side acknowledging permission for the anesthesiologist to do her magic. I watched in fascination as a milky white anesthetic liquid called Propofol coursed its way from the injection site on his IV line and down through the long clear tubing leading to Keith’s chest, finally disappearing beneath the white blanket covering him. It took only a few more seconds for his eyes to tell us that he was in dreamland.

We met up with him as we always do in the recovery room. He took a relatively long time to shake off the effects of the anesthesia but eventually he did and we were back in the car heading home again. Apart from taking his time to wake up this morning, he handled himself with great composure. As usual we were struck by his bravery and mental fortitude.

Not bad for a caveman….

Oh, and thanks for all the comments - it's what makes writing this feel like it's worth the effort.