A good day for dental surgery

Jackson has a high tolerance for pain, so when he spent an entire night pointing at his tooth and crying, Angy knew it was bad. Christian and Sara tried everything they could to make their big brother feel better, but nothing seemed to help. And since Jackson cried all night, Angy did too.

She was able to get him in quickly to see his dental surgeon at Texas Children's Hospital, which is quite unusual, even for a dental emergency. The problem was a broken and infected wisdom tooth, so the visit netted Jackson pain medicine, antibiotics, and a date for surgery two weeks away.

When Jackson has his teeth worked on (which always includes a deep cleaning and whatever they find that needs fixing), it's by the dental surgeon and under general anesthesia. Since it's a big deal for a child with aortic stenosis to have anesthesia, Jackson has to be examined by his cardiologist first. His annual checkup happened to be the following week, so everything was falling into place, and the appointment went well. Jackson's blood pressure is still high, but it's what's normal for him, so he got the green light for surgery. (An MRI under light sedation will follow in a few weeks to check out his stents.)

The dental surgery was infinitely better than our last experience about five years ago. By the time we were called to the recovery room back then, Jackson was awake, freaked-out, and inconsolable. For hours, he fussed, cried, made loud guttural noises, gagged, and threw up blood. At one point, it took four of us—two nurses, Angy, and myself—to restrain him. As we struggled, I slipped in some of his vomit on the floor and wrenched my back. It was a tough day for all of us.

This time, however, we were in the recovery room before Jackson came to. I think that helped, plus the fact that he's older and more accustomed to hospital visits. Like I told him in the car on the way there, he's getting to be a pro at this kind of stuff.

The instant Jackson opened his eyes, he had a sudden look of terror. Angy and I rushed to his side to calm him down. The nurse quickly removed his oxygen mask and the tube from his throat. Jackson gagged and threw up a few times, and although it took almost three hours before they let him go, there was none of the ruckus like last time. Thank you, Jesus.

I came prepared with an attachment from my back massager that Jackson likes me to use on him. It's flat on one side and round on the other, so I palm the flat side and rub his back with the round side. I did it pretty much nonstop.

Jackson said "iPhone" to Angy because he wanted to listen to music. Even though cell phones are prohibited in the recovery room, the nurse said it would be OK. (Good nurses are worth their weight in gold.) He first listened to Linkin Park. The nurse smiled and said it wasn't what she was accustomed to hearing in the children's recovery room. Then he listened to Florence and the Machine, Beastie Boys, Black Eyed Peas, and ... Mickey Mouse. Between the music and the back massage, Jackson was able to remain calm.

He wasn't as nervous and anxious beforehand, either, as previous times. When a nurse called us from the waiting room for some prep work, Jackson walked ahead of us, as if eager to get it over with. She held open the waiting room door as we walked through, and Jackson forged ahead like a man on a mission. Since he seemed to be leading the way, the nurse called out directions: "To the right, through the doors on the left, and it's the first room on the left." Jackson went straight to the room, opened the door, and took a seat as we filed in behind him. I found that to be somewhat amazing.

When it was time for the surgery, Jackson led the pack again with his "let's do this thing" demeanor. He walked ahead of the anesthesiologist and the nurse, with Angy and me bringing up the rear. As we reached the double doors, we were told to return to the waiting room and they'd call us when he was in recovery. It seemed strange to see Jackson just walk off with them like that. A memory flashed in my mind of us watching him as a toddler being pulled away in a red wagon to surgery. Things sure have changed.

Some things remain the same, though, like Jackson's affinity for the gift shop. He pointed at it when we arrived at the hospital, and I told him that afterward he could get whatever he wanted. He smiled and said in his sing-song voice, "I love you." Angy said that when she brought him for his appointment two weeks prior, the exact conversation took place between the two of them, even down to him saying, "I love you," at the same spot. What a precious deja vu moment.

It was after 4:00 by the time Jackson was released. He was still feeling the effects of the anesthesia and didn't even seem to notice the gift shop as he was wheeled past it. At least while we were waiting, Angy had the foresight to get him a treat from there that he could enjoy the following day. But next time, we're going to arrive extra early so that boy can visit the gift shop before his surgery.

All in all, things couldn't have worked out better, even traffic-wise. Traveling to the hospital that morning, we had two near misses on the freeway because of other drivers not paying attention. If either one had happened, it would have been a serious accident. Mere inches and split seconds made the difference. And driving back from the Medical Center in 5:00 traffic could have taken hours, but we kept moving the whole way home.

Although two weeks was a long time for Jackson to wait to get his tooth fixed, it gave us more opportunities to pray and seek God's favor upon the day. The Lord heard, and He was gracious to us.

Give ear, O Lord, to my prayer; And give heed to the voice of my supplications! In the day of my trouble I shall call upon You, For You will answer me. There is no one like You among the gods, O Lord, Nor are there any works like Yours. (Psalm 86:6–8)