Surgery, Sleep Strikes and the Supine

First things first.  Bonus points answer from yesterday:  If you spotted the dog…and Jack…underneath the kitchen table in the top photo, you win.  Yes, this kind of weird unpredictability is typical.  Yes, we usually choose to ignore it.  

Disclaimer: I have full permission from Camille to provide updates.  With any luck, she'll guest blog sometime soon.  :)

Now, down to business.  Thanks to all of you for the well-wishes and support that you’ve sent our way.  You sure know how to make a girl feel loved.  Camille was overjoyed with all of the messages, cards, and calls. 

Surgery took a little over four hours and was considered a technical success.  Obstacles were few.  Other than being overly weepy in the recovery room and repeatedly sobbing in an anesthesia-induced slur, “I don’t know why I can’t gain my composure!” she made it back to her room without pause.  Apparently this is common with teens, albeit shocking because Camille’s bubble is usually drama-free.

Our most monumental mountain for the day was all of the pomp and circumstance surrounding the topic of sleep.  This girl has never been a daytime sleeper, something in which she takes great pride (which I completely cannot relate to AT ALL).  I remember cursing to the gods of slumber when she was VERY tiny because she gave up her naps FAR too soon and has never looked back.  For days now, she has really gotten herself in quite a lather because parents and professionals alike have told her that she could expect to be spend quite a little of the day today resting and sleeping.  She simply could not overstate the fact that this is simply not in her nature and could simply not imagine that she would be able to carry through on this.  Finally, realizing that she was feeling pressured to be able to sleep, I in no uncertain terms told her on the way to Pre-Op that she did not HAVE to sleep but certainly shouldn’t feel bad if she should be inclined to sleep.  So….she hasn’t slept but a total of SEVEN MINUTES since coming out of surgery (much to the chagrin of her parents, who were banking on an afternoon nap), and instead, fired off strings of narcotic-laced texts, slurred phone conversations, and much chatter all-around about the insanity of having to lay flat to the point of “being pillow-less for 72 hours!”  Apologies to those on the receiving end.  Unless, of course, it was as entertaining for you as it was for us. 

 

The process of recovery over the next several weeks will reveal more about the big picture, so we remind ourselves of the virtue of patience and seek the joys in the interim.  True to form, she has established herself as the supreme question-asker, conversation-starter, and all around social monarch.  We find joy in this, even though I just heard her mention her newly coined ICD-9 diagnosis of “pillow withdrawl” for the 187^th time today.  Love this girl.  Love her spirit; indomitable it surely is.