"The Complexion Has Changed..."
Several of us spent most of the night in the waiting room Tuesday night, as Collin's surgery for several reasons did not happen until around 11:00 pm. It was in the early morning hours on Wednesday when we were told he had made it through surgery okay. We all breathed a collective sigh of relief - but we knew this by no means meant he was going to be "okay."
During the surgery they discovered that Collin had infection in his gut, related to the tissue in his abdomen. This was frustrating to us because he had just had a CAT scan (actually several) looking for that very thing. For whatever reason, none of the CAT scans picked up the infection.
Doctors had removed several feet of the "bad" intestine, and when we spoke to them Wednesday morning, they told us that they were going to go back in for another surgery later, just to make sure they got everything.
Several hours later, in the early afternoon...we got called into the Principal's office.
This time as I looked around the room, faces were not as fresh as the last time we were there. Eyes were swollen and bloodshot, faces were without expressions. I think it was beginning to dawn on everyone in the room that Collin not surviving was more than just a possibility...it was likelihood.
The room was already silent this time as the doctor walked in, and he looked about as good as the rest of us. He was accompanied by several of the administration and staff this time, and could not even offer us the faint smile as he had done before. Not because he was being rude or anything of that sort. Because he was hurting - like the rest of us.
He said that he has always believed that Collin's chances of survival were very good. Indeed, he was convinced that Collin was going to walk out of that hospital on his own two feet. He acknowledged that Collin's kidneys had failed - but there was dialysis for that. He acknowledged that Collin's liver had failed... but said that the liver is one of the most forgiving organs in the body - and he could recover from that.
"But," he said, "Collin's bloodwork indicates his body is no longer making white blood cells. And there is no way for us to give him white blood cells. Without white blood cells Collin has no way of fighting all of his infections anymore..." It was the kick in the stomach that we all knew was coming. There was a several second pause while the doctor let that soak in. As we looked around the room at each other, he almost whispered, "and so the complexion of Collin's outlook has unfortunately changed..."
He let that soak in as well. To be honest, I think that statement is still soaking in. He was telling us that Collin was going to die. All of the problems he had before - the doctor said he felt like he could handle. Until this. His bone marrow was not producing white blood cells anymore and there was not a damn thing they could do about it. He was basically telling us that this was the straw that broke the camel's back...
There was silence in the room, to accompany the quiet tears. The doctor sat perfectly still, his staff standing beside him, looking at us all, fighting back his own tears. "We are going to make sure he is comfortable, and not in any pain. I am so sorry..."
He took a deep breath and slowly got up, his staff now crying with us. As the doctor left the room, his staff stayed behind, and hugged each of us - openly crying now with us. They too, were sorry... they too, loved Collin.
After several minutes, the nurses started to leave. But before they did, they asked us if there was anything they could do for us. We responded that, yes, there was actually.
"Could you put a blanket on him?" I asked, eyes filled with tears. Shelby spoke up, "and maybe a regular pillow under his head too?"
You see the whole time he was in the hospital he always had some special gel pillow and never a regular sheet or blanket in sight. We just wanted him to look like a regular patient - we just wanted him to look like he was comfortable for once...
