The day is here! I’ve been asking everyone I regularly see in our life to say as many prayers as possible leading up to this day. Just to pray that she gets the cast removed and everything looks good. That we don’t need any more procedures and we can finally be rid of the Spica cast for good! I know we will likely leave with a brace for her to wear at night, but that doesn’t bother me so much as the prospect of more procedures, more casting, more anesthesia.
We get to the hospital, and we know the drill and exactly where to go. She gets the Versed medicine that makes her loopy again, and away she goes to the operating room. I am a ball of nerves. We receive our number assigned to our DD (Dear Daughter) so we can check the status board, which contains all active procedure statuses. I diligently watch the board for any status changes to her number and wait for text updates on my phone. We got very few notifications this time. Until finally, they call us to go to the room and meet with the doctor before DD wakes and is brought in. I thought I might puke as we walk in to see the doctor because I was too nervous to hear what he had to say. Then he says the dye procedure and the cast removal went great and everything looks great as well. He said her leg was solidly in place and he doesn’t even recommend a brace. She is going home completely cast and brace-free. This is truly the best outcome we could have even hoped for.
I immediately start to cry tears of joy, and being my awkward self, I told the doctor that I was so happy about his news that I could hug him but I won’t, knowing he has other surgeries (What? Who says that?). He awkwardly laughs, and I dismiss the moment as I continue to shed tears of joy and revel in what we’ve just been told. I could not WAIT to be able to hold my daughter against me again without the giant plaster in the way! I have been so eager to hold her without a cast again. It didn’t take long for DD to wake so we could see her, but it felt like an eternity because of wanting to hold her and my beaming excitement for her. When they let us in her room, I was able to pick her up and hold her. That was truly a special feeling. I cried tears of joy again. I couldn’t believe how small and light she was without a cast. She was a little grumpy coming out of anesthesia and tired, but per her usual self, she was fighting the restful sleep she needed. At least I was getting some wonderful snuggles with her cast-less body.
Finally, she dozed off. When she wakes, she gets something to drink, a snack, and we are cleared to go home. It felt odd changing her diaper the regular way again. She felt breakable and so tiny. But it was so exciting to dress her legs again! She was wearing tiny little shorts as it was a beautiful warm day. I tried to hold her on my hip, and she immediately started to fall backward. I quickly grabbed her from falling back. It’s obvious when you think about it, but I hadn’t realized she wouldn’t have any abdominal strength. I figured she wouldn’t have leg strength, but the lack of abdominal strength seemed to have caught me off guard. On the way home, I watched her as she touched her legs in awe. It was like she was rediscovering them despite being there the whole time. While she wasn’t able to move too much with having weak leg muscles and being restricted by the car seat, she was still moving her legs and analyzing what they could do the whole way home. It sure was a fun ride home for all of us.
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