From The Other Side Of The Wall

By: Dereck Sammons (A Dad’s Perspective)

As I hugged my son one last time, before Tiffany carried him back to the OR to assist with his sedation for his second eye surgery, I found myself pausing and just starring up at the ceiling asking God to watch over our little man…pleading for Him to make everything go smoothly. I sat in that PACU alone, for the longest 15 minutes of my life, waiting on my wife to return and tell me everything was okay, and that Rowan did great. It’s hard to describe all of the thoughts and emotions that were swimming through my head. Questions like, “Will Rowan be okay with this new form of anesthesia? How will Tiffany cope with having to hold him down through such a traumatizing event?” Varying emotions weaved in between the questions, in particularly, frustration. Being unable to be there for my son and wife in that moment was beyond frustrating. So, when Tiffany finally came back into the PACU, and after she took off her “hazmat” suit, she instantly fell into my arms and cried on my chest as I simultaneously cried on her shoulder. This to me is what pure, raw emotion would look like if it were caught on camera.

We proceeded to the waiting room and grabbed some snacks as we prepared to settle in for our long wait. It’s agonizing waiting for a plastic pager to go off to provide you an update on your son’s surgical status, but we’ve learned to distract ourselves as best we can. So, we played connect four in an effort to keep our minds busy and from going over a list of worst-case scenarios. Forty-five minutes soon turned into an hour. An hour to 90-minutes. Then, 90-minutes crept closer to two hours and two hours to two and half hours…At this point, we were no longer capable of distracting ourselves and panic set in. What was happening in that OR room? We continued our wait trying so hard to remain strong for the other.

Rowan’s surgeon, Dr. Traboulsi, finally surfaced from the OR and said, “Let’s have a seat.” Instantly, my heart dropped to the pit of my stomach. He proceeded to say that the surgery was ultimately a success, however, there was a lot more scar tissue than anticipated so an oculoplastic surgeon was brought in to assist. He finished up the conversation saying we would be able to see our son soon. Relief quickly overcame us and pushed away the panic!

Knowing Rowan was in recovery, and we’d soon get to see him, Tiffany decided to run a quick errand inside the hospital. With as many trips as we make to The Cleveland Clinic, we saw a flyer for a bundle parking deal, so she went to ask the receptionist for more details. In the three minutes she was gone, Dr. Traboulsi came back out…He told me Ro wasn’t coming out of anesthesia like he should be, and his oxygen levels were in the low seventies. At this time, Tiffany came around the corner and began to run down the ramp–she could tell from the look on my face something wasn’t right. Helplessness now replaced the temporary relief we had felt as we began the waiting game all over again. Another forty-five minutes went by before we were finally able to see our little warrior–and what we saw broke our hearts. There Rowan laid, covered in leads and monitors with an oxygen mask around his face. As a dad, this was easily the hardest thing I have ever seen. It took everything I had to not breakdown on the spot and to continue to be strong for my wife. We placed our hands on our son’s back and just prayed that he would be okay. We sat in that PACU for what felt like a lifetime but, in reality was a little over four hours, and were inevitably admitted into the intermediate pediatric ICU. 

After we got Rowan somewhat situated, I reluctantly left my family to go pack and check out of our hotel. I somehow managed to rearrange all of Rowan’s toys and allergen friendly foods and drinks into our small suitcase to bring back to his hospital room with me. This time gone was unexplainably stressful. I felt like I was rushing to beat the clock before a doctor came to provide an update or something else unexpected happened. But, when I finally made it back, Rowan was awake! However, he was desperately trying to pull off every lead and IV that was attached to him (all he wanted to do was walk and play). Needless to say, keeping a two-and-a-half-year-old confined for twenty-four hours was damn near impossible.

So, what is the emotional toll this has taken on me? Well, to be honest, it really shook me up! But I’ve gained an even bigger appreciation and admiration for what Tiffany does for Rowan on a day-to-day basis. It showed me that even with every ounce of adversity that is thrown Ro’s way, he’ll tackle it with a smile on his face and his infectious new laugh. It showed me that there are much bigger things in life than work and money. This has given me a newfound appreciation for my little family, and I would NOT trade a single day on this journey with them. Everything we have been through, even when shit hits the fan, is easier to overcome when we are together. I am TRULY blessed to have my wife and son to conquer this crazy world with each and every single day.