Chapter 2: The Not-So-Routine, Routine Surgery

*** Warning: Pictures of blood are present in this post ***

Beginning in 2019, Emmett was having reoccuring colds, which often times led to strep throat and tonsillitis. I'm talking every other week he would experience some sort of cold symptom. It was debilitating for the poor guy - he was missing so much school, and if you know Emmett, you know that his social calendar does not allow for missed days with his Buds.

Finally, in November of 2021, after many many many ENT visits in Red Deer, they agreed to remove his tonsils. Praise Jesus. But it wasn't easy - as it turns out, in order for a child to get their tonsils removed these days, they have to miss an entire school year and be close to death a minimum of 25 times before doctors perform the surgery. Just kidding. That was dramatic. But in all seriousness, remember 20+ years ago when that surgery was borderline elective? Regardless, the doctor saw that his quality of life was being affected in a big way, and agreed to the surgery (reluctantly).

Before leaving his office in Red Deer that day, the doctor listed off the risks involved in the surgery. He compared said list to reading the warnings on a pill bottle - unlikely to happen, but because it's happened once or twice, we have to tell you. The one warning he elaborated on with the most detail was "post operative bleed". I remembered his exact words "A bit of bleeding and clotting for up to a week post op is normal, but nothing more than the size of a dime". Noted.

I got a call in January of 2022 to book the appointment - October 16th, 2022 was the day. We were looking forward to a time when we didn't have to worry about whether or not he would come home from school with a sore throat. If only my crystal ball had been working that day.

Fast forward to the end of August of 2022 - I was sitting at my kitchen table filling in my fridge calendar with all the important stuff, in preparation for the upcoming school year. I was looking at the calendar on my phone as well to make sure I didn't miss anything, and my heart sunk when I got to October 16th. I had completely forgotten about Emmett's tonsillectomy. Normally not a huge deal, but since I was reminded of that appointment as I was sitting at my new kitchen table six provinces east of where the appointment was booked... it was suddenly a big deal. I called Jared, and he shared my sentiment by way of "Oh shit". We discussed it, and given that it took a year to get this appointment, the conversation ended with "Well, I guess we're going to Alberta in October". We kept the appointment, and I made the necessary arrangements to get us all to Alberta on October 14th.

Side bar: This part of the story isnt necessarily relevant, but it speaks to the Type-A personality that I am, and I imagine a collective "Oh, Laura would not have taken that well" by those who know me. On October 9th, a week before his surgery was scheduled to take place, I got a call that his surgery was postponed to November 16th. The receptionist, as sweet and accommodating as she tried to be, sat in silence as I listed off everthing I would need to rearrange and rebook in light of this postponement. None of it was her burden to bare, but she was sympathetic nonetheless - the WestJet employee on the phone, not so much. I digress...

On November 15th, the three kids and I flew to Alberta (pictured above). We landed at 10:00pm, where Jared met us with our rental car, and we drove to Red Deer. We arrived at the hotel and settled the kids in bed, which by this time it was roughly 1:00am. By 6:00am, Shawna arrived to stay with the girls while Jared and I took Emmett to the hospital. As predicted, the girls embraced their "Auntie Sha Sha" like they were never apart.

We arrived at the hospital by 6:45am, and Emmett was immediately prepped for surgery. I had never experienced any of my children going through any form of surgery, so this was a very new experience for me. It didn't matter how many times I told myself "it's in his best interest to have this done", I still felt like picking him up and running out of that hospital. I struggle with giving up control, and once he was away from me, my control was relinquished. I had to trust those doctors to take care of him the way that I, his mother, would (I immediately set them up to fail with that thought - it is what it is). They got his IV started, which he handled like a champ, and then a nurse came in with some preventative pain killers for him to take in the form of two pills. I dismissed it immediately - "he definitely can't swallow pills", to which Emmett replied "I'll try". And down they went, like he has been doing it for years. Looking back, that was the prelude for the many ways Emmett would continuously impress us in the months to come.

A couple of hours later, our boy was deliverd back to us in great cheer, popsicle in hand and with two less tonsils. We met with the surgeon, and he explained that the surgery went "routinely" - his tonsils came out really well. We needed to rotate Advil and Tylenol every two hours for three to four days to keep ahead of any discomfort, and watch for any signs of bleeding. An hour later, Emmett and I were off to the hotel, and Jared and the girls went to Castor with Shawna. Our day consisted of rest, gatorade, soft foods, buying a new VR Headset because surgery = Mom's a sucker... and watching movies. The next morning, we headed to Castor.

Going back to Castor was emotional for me. Moving away, even though it was to a place that was familiar to me, somehow still felt foreign. Being in Castor was like I was home again. I struggled internally with being there - it felt like my mind wouldn't let me remember why we left in the first place, and I was so sad. I excused myself on more than one occassion to go off by myself and cry. Looking back, I can't make sense of why I felt the need to struggle with that on my own. I guess at this point the "why" is irrelevant.

We had a great first week in Alberta. We attended a function in town, got to see family who we missed so dearly, did some shopping, went to the West Edmonton Mall... had all the fun! Emmett was recovering amazingly, and before we knew it, it was November 23rd and he was exactly a week post surgery. I remember every detail of that night. Shawna and I had cleaned up from supper, the girls had a bath in Auntie's big tub and were ready for bed. I put Emmett in the shower, and went in to the bedroom to change. Within a minute of Emmett being in the shower, I heard him scream. I ran to the bathroom, and there was stream of blood coming from his mouth. I looked on the shower floor, and there were two clots. My mind immediately went back to "...nothing more than the size of a dime". These clots were the size of a round Blistex tube (pictured). I grabbed Emmett some clothes, threw on our jackets and we took off to the

hospital in Castor. Before leaving the house, Shawna passed me a bag in case he needed it to spit up in. We exchanged glances, and neither of us needed to say a word. We both knew that this likely wasn't a good situation.

We go to the hospital, and as soon as we entered the lobby, Emmett grabbed the bag from my hand and proceeded to vomit 500ml of blood that had been dripping into his stomach since his surgery. I screamed for the nurses, and they came running. Luckily I had called ahead that we were coming, so Dr. Weighmann was there when we arrived. After examining him, it was determined that Emmett had a post operative hemorrhage (an open blood vessel), that had been dripping down his throat and into his stomach for quite some time. While he was in the shower, the clots loosened, and all hell broke loose. At this point, Dr. Weighmann was focused on getting us to a major centre, where Emmett could be given a blood transfusion if he needed it, and where he could be taken into the OR to have the open vessels cauterized. He excused himself to go consult with the childrens hospital in Calgary. While he did that, the nurses put an IV in Emmett's arm, took blood to check his hemoglobin counts and prepped him for the 3 hour trip to the city.

Dr. Weighmann came back in, and informed us that Emmett's situation was imminent, and that Calgary Childrens Hospital dispatched a STARS helicopter to come pick us up. The wind was instantly knocked out of me. I suddenly found myself in a situation where I had no idea what to do next. It took me a few minutes to gather myself, and then I called Jared. He was at work in Fort McMurray, and completely helpless. He called his boss, and was on the first flight to Calgary that morning.

An ambulance took us to the helicopter, and loaded Emmett up fast. Initially, they weren't going to let me on the flight - it's not normal practice to allow the patient to be accompanied by anyone. A few things worked out in my favor, which ultimately led to the pilot and medics allowing me to board. The distance from the hospital they were taking him to was a 3 hour drive, his vitals were stable and he was visibly distraught at the idea of me not being with him. The biggest issue, especially when it's a mother accompanying her child, is that if things were to go south while in flight, the worry is that I would get in the way of allowing them to do their work, by trying to comfort my child. Which makes perfect sense, and would be exactly something I would do. So I was allowed to fly, on the condition that I sit on my hands for the entire flight and not take them out no matter what happens. Fun fact: I legitimately sat on my hands for the entire 52 minute flight from Castor to Calgary. I couldn't make a tight fist for 24 hours.

We landed in Calgary at 12:16am, and were greeted by a team of doctors right on the tarmac. They wheeled him into Emerg, and he was immediately given a thorough examination. The surgeon took me aside and explained that he would need to be taken into the OR immediately to cauterize the open vessels in his throat, and check for any blood products still in his stomach. By 12:57am, Emmett was

being wheeled into surgery.

Jared's cousin, Kris, was there to meet us at the hospital when the helicopter arrived, and it was a massive sense of comfort to have him there with me while waiting for Emmett. He never left our side until he knew that Emmett was out of surgery. Special shout out to you, Kristopher! You'll see his name pop up again.

Surgery was quick - he couldn't have been gone for any more than an hour. The surgeon informed me that he had a bleed on each side of his throat, but was confident that they were able to cauterize all open vessels. They settled Emmett for the night, I made my first of many hospital beds to come, and by 3:00am, I was able to fall asleep to the sound of my sons breathing.

They kept Emmett admitted for 48 hours to ensure the bleeding was completely stopped. Originally, we were supposed to fly back to Nova Scotia on November 26th, but since he had to undergo an emergency operation, the doctors weren't comfortable allowing him to fly for at least another week. Jared and the girls flew home on the 26th, and Emmett and I stayed at my cousins house in the city. Over the course of the next week, we laid low and allowed Emmett's body to recover. He battled a lot of nausea, which we were told was a common symptom for children who have been given as much anesthesia as he had, in such a short period of time. That, mixed with the fact that he had blood sitting in his stomach for so long, is a recipe for prolonged nausea - blood is hard on the stomach, we were told.

Finally, after an additional week in Calgary, we were able to fly home on December 2nd. The flight went very well, and Emmett didn't experience any nausea whatsoever. We landed in Halifax at 6:00pm, and made our way down to the conveyor to wait for our luggage. Still no nausea. Emmett was sitting on the luggage cart watching his iPad, occassionally calling out to me to watch a funny video. We discussed where we were going to get some food on the way home, and he told me he was craving a hot chocolate from Tim Hortons. Still no nausea.

The alarm went off indicating that our luggage was on it's way out. I turned around to tell Emmett to stay put, and that I was going to grab our luggage. As I turned around, I watched him jump up off the cart with his hand over his mouth and run to the bathroom. He never made it to the stall before it all came spilling out of his hands. I was right behind him, and rubbed his back as the last of it went into the toilet. He reached for some toilet paper, wiped his mouth and looked up at me and said "I wasn't nauseous Mom, it just came". That moment is engrained into my memory. I remember the tone of his voice, the smell of his hair, every red mark on his face from heaving, the salt stain from where a tear came out of his eye... all of it. There was no way of knowing it then, but that was the first indication that something was wrong with Emmett.

At that time, I could never have imagined where life was going to take us, but that simple seven word sentence, "I wasn't nauseous Mom, it just came", that should have meant nothing, would eventually come to mean everything.

Chapter 3: The In-Between, coming soon.