Today was the day that Wyatt would have a Bone Marrow Biopsy, Spinal Tap, a pic line put in, and his first dose of chemotherapy. I still hadn’t quite grasped that. Chemotherapy. That meant Wyatt had cancer. My baby didn’t have cancer… I was in denial.
We were looking for answers with these procedures. What type of Leukemia did Wyatt have? Why was the fluid in his chest? How were we going to get him better? I would have given anything to have these answers, to know what to do.
We went with Wyatt to the OR. I got all suited up so I could walk into the room with him. I remember looking at myself covered from head to toe in that paper hospital outfit and thinking, this must be scaring Wyatt to death. I tried to joke about how funny I looked and make light of it. I walked down the hall with him holding his hand the entire way. Then we went into the operating room. I remember the stark white walls and the big round lights. The last time I had seen a room like this I was having Wyatt via C-section.
I kissed him as the medicine knocked him out and went to the waiting area. And I think I held my breath.
While I was waiting I could hear an alarm. It was the alarm that sounds when a patient’s heart stops beating. It calls all the critical personnel in the hospital to the patient’s room. I knew it wasn’t for Wyatt, but it was scary none the less.
After his procedures, Brooks and I sat with Wyatt while he slowly came out of the anesthesia. One of the Child Life Specialists brought a therapy dog by. We had already met these dogs the day before and I tell you what, they are awesome. I’m not sure who depended on the therapy dogs more, Wyatt or us.
We eventually got Wyatt back to his room and found a decent movie for him to watch. Brooks had brought him some juice and we were trying to get him to eat some jello. Now we just had to wait. Wait for the results of those procedures. Wait for the answers that we didn’t want.