No more tubies

We are so thankful for the tubies that Rosalie has had in her chest since June 3, 2006. They have enabled her to have blood draws without ever being poked. They've been a way to administer all things IV, from chemotherapy to antibiotics to anesthesia to blood products to simple saline.

Today we say farewell to Rosalie's tubies.

We welcome this new chapter of letting her get wet and not being the neurotic mom on the playground - the mom who is always worried that the tubes are going to get caught on something. Actually, I'd like to reserve the right to still be a neurotic mom on the playground. We welcome no more weekly dressing changes and no more nightly Heparinizations (flushing her tubes).

Her surgery was easy-peasy. They were able to do the procedure in the induction room - she didn't have to be wheeled into one of the more formal ORs. She was transferred over to the recovery room after about fifteen minutes.

The recovery room brought this journey full circle for me. I can still remember when she had her Broviac placement in June '06. She was lying there so still from the anesthesia and I remember staring at her long eyelashes and dirty-blonde hair. I remember being so nervous about what her treatment protocol would entail. Besides losing all her hair, would she just wither away? It was hard to accept that our life was going to become a St. Jude's infomercial. I remember a nice couple with their teenage son in the bed next to Rosalie. The son was completely awe-struck that he had just had an operation. He didn't remember anything. He seemed so relieved and you could feel his sense of exhilaration that something he had been scared of had been not-so-bad. The family, even the teenage son, was ooing and ahhing over Rosalie. I guess she did look pretty cute in that big bed. She was so little then. They asked her name, how old she was, etc . . . I could tell that since she looked quite healthy they had no idea that Rosalie was about to undergo something pretty major.

Today as Rosalie was ending her cancer treatment I could tell that the teenage girl next to Rosalie was about to begin some form of cancer treatment. Unfortunately, I am decent at being nosy. Given the floor she was being transferred to and the name of the physician next to her name on the white board I made the oncology assumption. She woke up in tears and when the nurse asked if she was nauseous she replied, "No, I'm just so sad."

It's my deepest prayer that this girl, and Rosalie, and all those kids who learn to cope with surgery and other medical procedures, go on to lead beautiful, rich, tubie-free lives.