I said I would try and post later with more details, but honestly there isn't much more to say. The surgery takes place at 7:45 am Sunday Sept 7. The doctor said the surgery itself will only take 20 min from first cut to close. There's not a lot to actually do in the surgery itself, it's just there is a lot of very delicate stuff all around there. The real time consuming thing is the prep. Re-intubating her, anesthetizing her, etc. It should be done before Church is over for the morning (if you go to the late service) however I have no idea what time I will get access to a computer and be able to type a quick up date. When I do I will try to just give an "okay" post. Of course after that, the next few days will be recovery days for Parker, and it will be a few days before we see any improvement. But the surgeon told Mary Jane this was something that needed to be done and needed to be done now. One nice thing is that Mary Jane knows, and works with the surgeon, and she trusts him.
3 comments:
John Mark and I are praying for you all, especially sweet Parker!
Parker,
Surely you are in surgery and I pray for all the staff involved for accuracy and swiftness. I pray that you remain strong during the surgery and I pray for peace of mind for your mommy and daddy. I pray that Emma also remains strong the next few days while you are recovering. On a short side note with a bit of humor, I would like to point out to your mommy that Led Zeppelin (which your daddy and I both like) has a song called Whole Lotta Love! Blessings for all four of you!
Mel
I'm friends with one of your friends from Chicago. I've been praying for you and your little ones. I came across an old cheesy poem that seemed fitting.
I am a mother's prayer. I am sometimes clothed in beautiful language that has been stitched together with the needles of love in the quiet chambers of the heart, and sometimes I am arrayed only in the halting phrases interrupted by tears which have been torn like living roots from the deep soil of human emotion. I am a frequent watcher of the night. I have often seen the dawn break over the hills and flood the valleys with light and the dew of the garden has been shaken from my eyes as I waited and cried at the gates of God.
I am a mother's prayer: there is no language I cannot speak; and no barrier of race or color causes my feet to stumble. I am born before a child is born, and ere the day of deliverance comes, I have often stood at the alter of the Lord with the gift of an unborn life in my hands, blending my joyful and tearful voice with the prayers and fears with the father. I have rushed ahead of the nurse through the corridors of the hospital praying that the babe would be perfect, and I have sat dumb and mute in the presence of delight over a tiny bit of humanity, so overwhelmed I have been able to do nothing but strike my fingers on the harps of gratitude and say, "Well, thank the Lord!"
I am a mother's prayer: I have watched over the cradle; I have sustained a whole household while we waited for a doctor to come. I have mixed medicine and held up a thermometer that read 104. I have sighed with relief over the sweat in a little one's curls because the crisis was past. I have stood by a graveside and picked a few flowers to take home like old memories, and cast my arms around the promises of God just to hang on and wait until I could feel underneath me the everlasting arms.
I am a mother's prayer: I have walked and knelt in every room of the house; I have fondled the old Book, sat quietly at the kitchen table and been hurled around the world to follow a boy who went to war. I have sought through hospitals, army camps and battlefield. I have dogged the steps of sons and daughters in college and university, in the big city looking for a job. I have been in strange places, for I have even gone down into honky-tonks and dens of sin, into night clubs and saloons and back alleys and along dark streets. I have ridden in automobiles and planes and ships seeking and sheltering and guiding and reminding and tugging and pulling toward home and Heaven.
I am a mother's prayer: I have filled pantries with provision when the earthly provided was gone. I have sung songs in the night when there was nothing to sing about but the faithfulness of God. I have been pressed so close to the promises of the Word that the imprint of their truth is fragrant around me. I have lingered on the lips of the dying like a trembling melody echoed from Heaven.
I am a mother's prayer: I am not unanswered, although mother may be gone, although the home maybe dissolved into dust, although the little marker on the grave grows dim. I am still here: and as long as God is God, and the truth is truth, and the promises of God are "yes and amen," I will continue to woo and win and strive and plead with boys and girls whose mothers are in Glory, but whose ambassador I have been appointed by King Emmanuel. I am a mother's prayer.
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