The day of my daughter’s operation arrived and my husband and I awoke at 6 am, tired and anxious.
Our nerves had not been helped by a phone conversation with Bristol Children’s Hospital the night before. My daughter had had contact with a friend’s daughter that week who had since come down with chicken pox.
There were concerns that the operation should not go ahead due to the risk that my daughter could a) come down with chicken pox following the operation and risk her health, and b) that my daughter could become infectious during her stay in hospital and risk the health of other sick children.
Much as I had been worrying about it, the operation was essential to treat her dislocated left hip and shorter left leg due to Developmental Dysplasia of the Hip (also known as Congenital Hip Dysplasia). I had built myself up for it and was as prepared for it as I could ever be. The thought that it might not go ahead at the eleventh hour was horrible.
After talking to the registrar and anaesthetist and signing the consent forms, we waited for when it was time for my daughter to go to theatre. When the nurse arrived to collect us I just about managed to hold it together on the walk down.
However, I asked my husband to be the one to go into pre-theatre with her as I knew I would not be able to do this part of the journey without being a sobbing mess. I instead waited in the corridor outside and cried. Once she was safely in theatre, we went to a cafe across the road from the hospital for breakfast and began our wait.
Nearly four hours later we received the news that the operation had gone well and that my daughter had had to have an ‘open reduction’ of her left hip.
I will try to explain this in my non-medical way. Tendons in her groin had been cut through to reach her hip and a lot of scar tissue cut away. Because of the difference in leg length, there had been muscle shortening which had to be rectified. The dislocated left hip was then put back in socket. Finally a Spica cast had been put on her from her chest to her ankles.
When I was told I could see my daughter, I went to recovery to greet my little swollen bundle in her plaster cast, groggy but well.
I was SO happy to see her:-)Please read my post ‘Spica Cast Change Day and a Halfway Point’.