I didn't even give it a second thought.
He actually had the exact surgery when he was four. I still remember his little face smiling back at me as they wheeled his little body away in a wagon. Now he's 13 and he needs ear tubes and his adeniods out -- again.
I hung out with him in pre-op and we watched tic toc videos while he got his IV put in. He did great. But then it was time and they wheeled him away.
That's the moment. Watching him leave when the vulnerability becomes real.
Anesthesia is alchemy.
Modern surgery is a miracle.
Even small ones.
It is of the most vulnerable experiences we can have. For a moment, our bodies are under the complete care of the surgeon and anesthesiologist. And as I watched them wheel away my baby, I felt both vulnerability and trust.
The trust part is what made me think of writing this post. I trusted so fully because I knew the surgeon. He had operated on me. But more than that, I visit him regularly and he scopes my sinuses and trachea. His hands as incredibly skilled and steady. He is deeply knowledgeable in the field. He is kind and thoughtful. He's a great doctor.
Last week in Sunday school, I taught the lesson of the Good Shepherd. The sheep know the voice of the Good Shepherd and they trust him because he leads them to calm water and protects them.
I knew the doctor. I knew Andrew was in good hands.
When we know the shepherd we can be vulnerable with our body, our hearts and our spirits. And even in those moments where we have zero control over what happens, we are in good hands.
I went down to the Cafe and had some breakfast. By the time I finished, he was already waking up. The doctor called and the said surgery was a good idea.
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