My brave girl II

Thankyou God.

For so much. But specifically:

That my Katy is back home safe and sound.

That she is still my Katy.

For the surgeon's skill in taking away the tumour in her neck but leaving the bits that mattered.

That Katy can move her shoulder which means that her muscles are working which means that her nerve is working.
That only one nerve was affected and it wasn't the one that might have been life-threatening.

My brave Katy

That she is cheerful and not in too much pain.

That she doesn't seem traumatised by her experiences.

That she doesn't have to have endless dressings and that her wound is healing really well.

That the stitches are dissolvable and so she doesn't have to have them taken out.

For the kindness of the anaesthetist who told me that he has three small girls under 6 years himself and he can imagine how hard it must be to walk away from your little one before an operation.

For the same anaesthetist who touched me on the shoulder as I left Katy in the anaesthetic room and said to me, 'I'll take care of her.'

For the nurse who handed me tissues as I left the theatre suite.

For the wonderful, awe-inspiring courage that you gave to my little girl as they put her to sleep. She was so frightened and yet so brave. She didn't cry once. Just like last time.

That she was still excited at the prospect of a ride on a bed from the ward to the theatre.

For the chocolate and other items of junk food that I consumed while waiting for surgery to be over.

In recovery

That it was possible to learn from last time; that this time they took off the sticky ECG pads from her chest before she woke up; that she was horribly sick last time from the anaesthetic and from morphine so this time they gave her an anti-emetic in her theatre drip.

That this time she didn't feel sick at all.

For the kindness and gentleness of the staff on the children's ward at the hospital.

For cold drinks with ice cubes on a hot ward.

For medicine and treatment and surgery and hospitals available to us for nothing.

For lemon squash with ice and buttered toast that were to Katy nectar and ambrosia after she woke up.

That she was able to eat and drink within hours of a 2hr 40min operation on her neck.

For a private room with a bed for me so that I could stay with my daughter while she recovered.

That she felt that staying up late and eating toast 'in the middle of the night' was a special treat.

For innocence and joy in the smallest of things.

That I got to hold my precious daughter as she fell asleep in my arms. I stayed there for ages. 

That she said to me, 'Mummy, I'm glad I got to sleep in a room with you. Are you glad that you slept together with me?'  Oh yes, my little love. It was very special.

That you made me in such a way that the wonderful fragrance of my two girls is so special to me; I could inhale them all night long.

For Big Sister who made Get Well cards and missed Katy terribly.

Big Sister reading to Little Sister

For Little Sister who missed Big Sister terribly and for the smile on her face when Elizabeth came to visit.

For clever Big Sister who read stories to Little Sister when she didn't have the energy to play in the playroom.

For the play therapists who organised painting, games, craft activities and lego for the girls.

For the sunshine over the last few days - rain would just have been so much more depressing.

For Grandma who brought biscuits and milk for coffee and looked after Lizzie at home.

For a church family who wrapped us up in prayer.

For friends and neighbours who worried and supported us.

For a sea of stuffed toys surrounding my small girl and making her feel better.

For Hospital Teddy, Arnie the Aardvark and Scruffy Barney who looked after Kate in hospital.

Arnie the Aardvark recovering
from surgery.

For Posh Barney who was inadvertently left behind in hospital and remains there until we can go to pick him up.

For the nurse that phoned us urgently because she thought that Katy had left her precious Barney behind and realised what a disaster that would be.

For the nurses who were so impressed with Katy that they didn't believe that she was only four.

For Mozart, who composed a piece of music that Katy loves (Fur Elise) and for the stuffed dog that plays Mozart tunes when you press his paw. Kate played this every time she woke the first night after her operation.  I will forever associate that tune with hospitals now.

For the miracle of healing.

For your never ending love and constant company.

That you were so close to me as I waited for the operation to finish and that you let me feel your presence.

For the generosity and humour of theatre staff who put an oxygen mask on Arnie the Aardvark and bandaged him up so that when Katy woke up she would think that he'd had an operation too.

For the resilience of children.

That lunch the next day was Katy's favourite meal (sausages and chips).

That you protected us. I called on your name and you hid us under your wing. You said that you would keep us from harm and you did.

So small

That Katy understood what I meant when I whispered 'Circle Katy, Lord' in her ear in the anaesthetic room.

For painkillers.

For technology that allows doctors to do such amazing things to mend us when something goes wrong

For disposable contact lenses.

For ginger biscuits.

For children's television.

For good friends who have called or texted or come round to see how we're doing.

For bubble mixture.

For the moment when Katy woke up confused and disorientated and saw her Mummy and Daddy and smiled. And for the relief that I felt when she woke up again.

For the enormous overwhelming powerful love that you put inside me for my daughters. 

That you love me (and them) even more than I am capable of loving.

That you did all this for us.

For your compassion and humour and patience.

For your generosity in giving me so much when I give you so little.

For so, so much else. 

Thankyou.