Two Parts of a Whole

                Another bloody Monday.  Literally.  Today was stage two of Feisty Pants' scoli surgery.  They removed a wedge of bone (L1), straightened her pelvis as much as possible, dropped in the rods.   They say it went well.  They noticed a slight tear in the dura which they fixed but that may mean her drainage tubes will need to stay longer this time.  They removed the halo so that will be a relief once she wakes.  She is intubated still.  They probably won't be in a hurry to remove the tube. She is back in the PICU already.  We are just waiting for them to come get us a bring us back to her. 

                The above paragraph doesn't seem like it's long enough to describe the day.  I got up four frigging thirty this morning.  I've been sitting here basically waiting since five frigging thirty.  I've gotten coffee.  Ate lunch.  Argued superhero trivia with Goo.  Did my yoga on the floor of a hospital room.  Checked my email. Found a view of, then argued with Goo about Eastern Pen. (Eastern State Penitentiary, an allegedly haunted prison)  Did all those little piddly things one does when waiting for time to pass. Time is not passing fast enough today. This last half an hour has taken at least a year. (It has too.  And that did make sense. You don't know. Shut up). It's only four pm.

                  Hospitals have such a weird aura.  One half knuckle dragging, nerve biting, adrenaline fueled roller coaster.  One half serene, ancient temple of healing. We just left the waiting room and now are sitting in Feisty Pants' room in the PICU. Straight from jumping at every approaching human looking vaguely medical to quietly enjoying watching her sleep.   The halo is off without any mean looking battle scars like we had envisioned.  Just a few little circles.  I'm gonna have to work hard to spin this into her "the girl who lived" story.  (I know! The scoliosis itself will be the lightning bolt shape. Feisty Pants and the Prisoner of Insurance Regulations here we come!) Her spine is still a meandering path but so much better than it was.  It will never get straighter.  But more importantly, it will never get worse. 

                    And now comes the hard part.  The uphill climb of healing.  Of therapies.  Of pain and struggle.  Of the "why is this so damn unfair"ness of it all.  (I cannot even complain when she hits that stage.  FP has damn well earned it. ) But that will start in a few days.  Right now we catch our breath.  Right now we relish the feeling of gratitude. Right now we sit and watch the miracle of Feisty Pants sleeping peacefully.