It’s Saturday evening, and still no operation. Around noon, the nurses on our ward were talking in hushed tones–the ortho resident had been paged three times by Emergency that morning. Then once again in the afternoon (each page likely means a major emergency operation). In fact, the resident met with us in the evening and told us that in the late afternoon the team had just been assembled for Jon and the operating room cleaned and they were about to page us, and in rushed an emergency appendectomy and took their OR. Arg.

Tomorrow first thing, they say, unless there is something worse in the meantime.

The waiting is of course, very draining. Jon is in occasional pain. As of last evening just before bedtime, his broken leg is in a kind of semi-traction…four pounds of weight are pulling at the leg to straighten it. In turn, he turns on his powerful CP-powered inner muscles, so the leg kinda twists, but that doens’t bother the orthopaedic residents too much–it’s relatively straight, and he’s relatively comfortable.

Also, they switched from oral Tylenol + codeine to IV morphine (beign very strict with the no oral intake before surgery), so he’s fuzzy headed, but a little grumpier. Yesterday’s codeine bunged him up good, giving Jon one more mildly unpleasant reason to be grumpy.

For the record, I did put forward the suggestion that when morphine is prescribed, it should be prescribed in threes (for the parents, you see), and it was met with approval with the nurse, but I didn’t notice her putting it in the suggestion box.

The nurses on the floor tonight were considerate enough to order Jon a dinner, and then a new one when the “pizza” that showed up was…well, it might be considered pizza somewhere. Maybe Neptune. Good call, 5A nurses.

I think Laura and I are doing a little better than last time, probably because we know what to expect. This stage is maddening, and Jon’s not totally comfortable for too long, and always needs something. Must pace ourselves for the long haul. Maybe tomorrow…The Room.