The anaesthetist came to see him last night. Lots of teeth sucking about whether it could go ahead. Chest infection ... Blah blah ... You know the risks ... Blah blah ... Risk of procedure ... Ventilator ... Blah blah ... Intensive care. That he had just had a tantrum and needed lots of suctioning didn't help. They came back this morning and pronounced themselves prepared to do it.
Took a long time but went ok. He slept for a long while afterwards. But he didn't go straight to intensive care. He's still in oxygen but not doing too badly all things considered. The night is the key time.
He did want to get out of bed afterwards and play for a bit. Took some very faltering steps. His leg muscles are somewhat wasted after so long in bed. Needed his hands held for balance. He tired quickly and was tearful and bad tempered by bedtime. Despite the blood transfusion he has that pale waxy palour of someone at the end of a long chemo session.
We hope to get the results on Friday afternoon. The wife and I don't look much better than him. One of those days when I wonder if I did the right thing going back to work at all, let alone the stressful one I've got. The strain is telling all round.
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