Some things never get easier

The gorgeous Mackenzinator is right this minute having super hearing installed. For the third time. Apparently the record for grommets in one patient is 13. We are not aiming to break that!

Mackenzie has had multiple ‘procedures’ requiring anesthetic, ranging from the simple MRI when she was a wee babe, to grommets, to a coarctation of her aorta (opening up her tiny aorta when she was seven months) to the super serious open heart surgery just 2 and a little bit years ago. As she has grown, she of course has become more aware of the proceedings. As a baby, it was a little easier to aneasthetise her, purely because she wasn’t so aware of what was happening. Of course as a parent, it was super hard to watch, to the point where even big ‘tough on the outside gooey on the inside’ Wilbur, has never actually gone in to the operating theatre to hold her hand. It is most definitely my job.

As Mackenzie has grown, it has become harder. She knows what is going to happen. When she had her open heart surgery, she point blank refused to put on a gown – maybe she thought she would be safer and not have to go through with it if she left on her clothes. She refused to lie on the bed to be wheeled into the operating theatre, she gripped to me as I carried her along the halls of the Royal Children’s Hospital, and into that scary scary operating theatre, and then clung to me like a limpet as she was ‘going under’, the fear in her eyes and little tear-stained face evident for me to see, as I unsuccessfully tried to stem the flow of tears and emotions weeping from my heart.

Today was slightly different. She was amazingly stoic as she endured her toast and juice early this morning, and then the long arduous wait until time to ‘gown up’. Today she surprised me. The gown went on with absolutely no problem. Oh how she has grown and become more resilient. Yet again we walked to the operating theatre. She happily climbed onto the super skinny operating table, as she introduced the ever faithful ‘Cow’ to the medical staff. It was the moment right before the disgustingly flavoured strawberry gas mask went on that she dissolved into tears and both arms reached for me (oh my gosh, as I type this, the tears in my eyes and rolling down my face are making it tricksy!) and she wailed ‘I don’t want to…..’ where she and I broke down. The fear on her beautiful round face was like a knife going through my heart, as she gripped my hands and her Cow. It was near impossible for me to halt the barrage of hot tears, as I tried to smile and comfort her.

Finally she was still, and her eyes closed. I can only hope she forgives me when she wakes up with her super hearing, her Cow and her Mummy by her side, and the promise of ice-cream lingering in her beautiful head.

As I write this, she is blissfully unaware, and undergoing the simplest of simple procedures. One that will make her little life easier, and one less thing for her to deal with. In fact I am guessing she is almost done, so it is time for me to wipe my eyes, and take a lesson about stoic-ness from my girl, and just get the job done – as she does.

15 minutes later….

SO. It’s pretty scary when the anesthetist comes out following any sort of procedure, and calmly tells me that Mackenzie had some trouble breathing as she was ‘waking up’, and had a Laryngeal spasm. That is – she stopped breathing. It is always terrifying to hear those words. She is totally fine, it just appears that the little chesty cough she had last week may have caused some problems in the upper respiratory region. Still – scary. They put her back under to stabilize her, and she is in recovery now waking up and coughing away.

Time passes slowly whilst I wait to see her distraught face and fight Cow so I can be the one to hold her little paw.

Recovery never gets easier either. Mackenzie is truly a trouper, but gee she can hold a grudge! I can imagine it must be overwhelming and scary for a little person to wake up, covered in tubes and a breathing mask that is blowing ventolin into your mouth at a high rate. Tears still a-flowing, she just wants the mask off, and, ‘I want to go home’ are the only uttered words. She still has not looked at me.

There is no forgiveness yet. Nor is there a smile.

I will wait, for I know it will come.

There will be none until she walks out of that hospital and into the safety of the outdoors. Right now it’s about sleep. No ice-cream yet. At least the flow of tears has stemmed for now. Thankfully.

I sit patiently and stroke her forehead as she slumbers, and I ponder her amazing ability to deal with anything that life throws at her. I listen to her breathe, and silently thank ‘someone’ for looking after her. I watch the rise and fall of her chest as I feel grateful for her being.

3:30pm. I go to add more coin to the money eater parking meter, and check my phone, only to find a message letting me know that Murphy has finished vomiting, and is safe with a friend. WHAT! Apparently she was violently ill this morning at school and needed to be picked up. Enter fabulous emergency contact Bec. Thank-you. sigh

The Mackenzinator is now awake, and there is a glimmer of a smile. Not for me – just for the ham and cheese sandwich she is consuming. Good girl. One step closer to that elusive going home.


Faithful Cow is never too far from Mackenzie’s side.

Her recovery was less than stellar. Many tears. Ventolin. Vomiting. More tears. Anger. Still no smile.

Much later this evening, as I sit and reflect upon the day, I feel grateful. Yes. Mackenzie has had a rough day, and up until an hour ago, was still vomiting. She is still feeling horrible, but is home, safe, BREATHING, and asleep. Murphy is also fine, maybe a little flat. Milla had a fabulous day out at a new friends house. Madison is on a high still after winning multiple LIttle Athletics medals on Saturday. I have eaten an entire tray of Christmas chocolate rum balls (sans rum), and I am still functional.

It’s all good.

But still, some things just never get easier……… She still hasn’t looked at me, or spoken to me. I guess forgiveness will come tomorrow.

Oh, and did I mention, my cooks are eating their own eggs. The greedy girls…….

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  • Tears more tears and more tears. Never have I ever wanted to throw this job in as much as I have today. Sad daddy from 6000 k’s away.

  • Ohmigosh, I read that just crying so much, poor mumma, poor baby!! 🙁

    I hope it’s all smooth sailing from now on in .. We need to do the pub lunch again next school hold, ok?

    As for your chickens, my dad said you had to kill the ringleader of eggeating, otherwise all hell breaks loose. Not sure if that’s true, but we didnt tolerate it.. X

  • I don’t know what’s worse… fighting back the tears reading your post or having them fall down my cheek reading W’s.. ugh. Kylie.. sending you ALL my love and hugs. She may not forgive you straight away but I salute you… Applaud you and adore you. You are super Mum to those four gorgeous lil people. GO YOU.. and.. big hugs to the M2.. she is a trooper! x

  • thanks for sharing this Kylie…..though I so wish you didn’t have to…what a jigsaw puzzle of a day you had to piece together…and one that had the cover for visual reference missing and a few vital pieces fallen under the card table too! So glad all’s well at your home now…but a very raw and ragged written piece to be sharde with us all who love your style…and of course complimented by the pictires which tell 1000 bedrudging rebukes from recovering Mackenzie! Never has one woman so earnt an entire santa sack of rumballs!