Flashback Foto Friday

Three years ago these boys' parents became fast friends in the most unlikely of places... the Neonatal Intensive Care Unit at CHEO.  The boys followed their parents in a bond of friendship that will last a lifetime. 

Then:  December 2009



Now:  October 2011

Look at how much they've grown -- and that's the least of their achievements!

PB & B

I can't believe that I had the honour of witnessing this...

My fifty-six year old male colleague just ate his FIRST EVER peanut butter
and banana sandwich!!

How could you go that long without ever having tasted a peanut butter and
banana sandwich???

They're such a staple in our house... I'm simply amazed!

And yes, he liked it!

I remember

I always find October hard... gets me in a funk.

I know we shouldn't dwell on the past but I have a hard time forgetting
those days three years ago.

A dozen days that felt like a lifetime.

From the highest of highs to the lowest of low.

It started on October 19th, 2008

I remember finding out we had a son.
I remember him being beautiful.
I remember being surprised at his strawberry blond hair
I remember commenting on his facial palsy but not thinking much of it.
I remember the concern on our nurse's face.
I remember her determination that the NICU take a better look.
I remember a neonatologist coming to tell us there was good and bad news.
I remember hearing the bad news - TEF (at the time, just a big long scary
word)
I remember the relief at the good news - it can be fixed.
I remember that feeling, the realization that your newborn is going to have
surgery.
I remember the long trip over to CHEO through halls that would become too
familiar.
I remember smiling at a familiar face in a world of unknowns.
I remember surgery being postponed.
I remember being brought into THAT room.
I remember being told that there were other concerns.
I remember discovering that Caelan had a solitary kidney.
I remember learning about his different heart.
I remember the feeling of trying to hold it together.
I remember surgery being postponed again.
and again.
I remember time moving backwards while he was in surgery.
I remember the relief and fear of seeing our son post op.
I remember days going by in a blur.
I remember the questions in my head.
I remember an awful extubation.
I remember being absolutely terrified.
I remember feeling devastated when he was re-intubated.
I remember so many "what ifs?"
I remember the love on faces looking at our son.
I remember so many things.
I remember so many feelings.
I remember being brought back into THAT room.
I remember the anxiety.
I remember trying to hold it together and failing miserably.
I remember them explaining about CHARGE.
I remember trying to focus and blink away tears.
I remember them painting the worst possible picture.
I remember being held tight.
I remember looking into the sweetest face.
I remember that it was Halloween.
I remember having to go home and fake it.
I remember feeling like our world had crashed around us.

Here's more

I don't even know what to say.

I don't know if I'll ever get used to being so familiar with CHEO.

I don't know if I'll ever understand why it takes so long from the time they tell you you're discharged, to when you're actually allowed to leave the building.

It can be the most frustrating thing EVER!  You wait, and wait, and wait to be told that today is the day that you get to go home.  When you finally here the words it takes mere seconds to have everything and everyone all ready to go.  Yet, it's like they were only teasing because apparently you aren't allowed to go just yet.  We're still waiting on this prescription, or a sign off from that Doctor, or a follow up appointment with this team... REALLY?!?!  Are you kidding me?!?!

Don't tell us we're good to go until we are in fact good to go!  (Note:  Especially when I ask specifically "You mean, right now?")

It's like dangling a carrot in front of our nose.  Doing that to parents that have just been through your express 72+ hour rollercoaster ride are not in the correct mood or frame of mind to begin playing these games.  We're tired exhausted, we're anxious, we're fed up and frustrated.  We're done.

You'd think we'd learn - well I thought we had - that when they tell you that you're being discharged at 9 o'clock in the morning, you'll be lucky to leave the building before 3 o'clock in the afternoon!

he's home - more later