He Takes My Heart With Him

The Story of Surgery - Part One: The Little Red Wagon

We had to be at Mott's Children's Hospital at 6:30am with Jack for surgery. There is a hotel attached to the hospital, so we spent the night there. Little Jack, cozy and warm in his red, penguin, footie pajamas, slept in a crib by our bed. I must have awakened about a hundred times during the night, checking on him and whispering more prayers. Finally, morning came and it was time.

We carried Jack through the hallways in his pajamas and wrapped in his blanket. He had sleepy eyes and a confused look on his face. When we reached preop and the nurses began checking him, he began to cry. Burying his head into my shoulder, he sobbed and clung to me. The anesthesiologist said I was not allowed to go back with him, but that they would give him a sedative to make him sleepy and so that he wouldn't remember being taken away from me. He continued to cry, even as they gave him his medicine.

The preop room had half a dozen curtained partitions and every partition was filled. Anxious parents and scared children in these early morning hours. The nurses told me they wouldn't take Jack away until he was calm and sleepy. I rested my head on his head and tears fell from both of us. They had marked his head with an oil crayon to show where they would attach electrodes, but I didn't care if I smudged the marks. I only wanted my Jack. My husband watched us and kept touching Jack's arm. He knew I needed this time with Jack and, bless him, he let me have it.

Too soon, there was a nurse and two anesthesiologists standing by us. They had with them a red, radio flyer wagon, padded with blankets. I kissed Jack over and over, let dad have a turn, and then carefully tucked him into the wagon. And they pulled my baby away. Lying quietly in a red wagon, looking small under the blanket grandma made for him, and sucking on his pacifier.