Well, we made it through the day fairly unscathed, hope intact, heart beating at normal pace. This is what it feels to be held, I guess. By you, by my ever-loving heavenly Father.
Jess is in the CCU, looks fairly scary, on many drugs, with many, many tubes, and fluid replacement happening every 15 minutes as they pump his body full of as much fluid as his new, swish-bang, extenda-model kidney ploughs out. Initially, the man-kid, as we should probably call Daddy’s kinney now, was producing pee at a rate of 620mls per hour – which is “excellent”, but has now slowed down to 380mls per hour – also good. Another indicator that the doctor allowed as “excellent” was the fact that from the first post-man-kid bloodwork, Jesse’s creatinine dropped from 224 this morning to 118.
They were delayed getting him from surgery to the CCU as he had difficulty breathing on his own when they extubated him, so they had to re-intubate. Sigh. The story of his surgical life. Perhaps though, the silver lining is more valuable – it means they will keep his morphine switched a little higher so that he won’t wake up too much. Don’t you think if you had a 20cm gouge in your side you’d prefer to be a little unaware of it for the first few days? I find I can give thanks for that.
My heart broke momentarily, however, when they tried and failed 5 times to get an NG tube down his nose for anti-rejection meds which must be given orally. His eyes opened wide with the pain and he looked at me and a big tear slid down his cheek. Helplessness. Yet, bless him, when the nurse asked Jess to open his mouth and keep it open, he did.
I am just so thankful it’s over. Thank you for your enormous part in it. Pray this man-kid sits in Jess as happily as it did in Tim.
He is allowed no visitors right now save his parents to limit infection as he will be on immune suppressants. Much as I love you, please take this as a perfect excuse to not visit just yet. His body needs a bit of time.
Praise God for giving power and strength to his people.