This past weekend, I came across a story Zach wrote in elementary school. It is titled, TRUE STORIES. In it, he gives the account of his surgery. Now, obviously he doesn't remember it. It was interesting to read what he thought happened during that time. It is neat how he took all the information he had heard and seen in scrapbooks and created his story. Here it is:
"When I was born it was scary for my parents. I had open heart surgery. I was transported in a helicopter from Carle to St. Francis Hospital in Peoria. My grandma was a nurse and she helped me get strapped in the helicopter. All my family cried and prayed for me. I was put under a clear tent the size of about four desk put together to make a square. There were tubes connected to my mouth. They they put suction cups to my chest and put the wire ends to a computer. This was to see if my heart beat was on track. While I was in my tent my dad was playing chess with my grandpa. While they were doing that, my mom was talking to my grandma about how sad they were both. My uncles were reading magazines while I was in the clear tent. I was in the hospital for 1 to 2 weeks. My mom and dad rented a house across the street from the hospital. They worried every night. My mom hardly slept. Finally I was better and went home!"
After I read it and smiled (OK, I cried too), we talked about it. Zach was surprised to find out that some of this was not exactly the way it went down.
My mom did NOT help him get strapped into the helicopter. She and my step-dad left for Peoria before the helicopter so they could get there sooner.
Neither he nor I are sure about what clear tent he was talking about. The bassinet they flew him in or the "tent" that provided oxygen for him as he healed. Either way, neither of them were as big as four square desks pushed together :)
He was in the hospital a little longer than 1 or two weeks. A little closer to four.
We did stay across the street in the Family House, but we did not rent the house and we had to share it with other families.
Then there were the parts that were spot on:
He flew to Peoria.
We cried and prayed
He was hooked up to LOTS of tubes and wires.
Brian and my dad DID play chess in the waiting room. Our families did a great job of allowing us our freedom to be sad while helping us stay busy between visiting hours.
My brothers DID read magazines while they waited for the next visiting time.
We DID worry every night.
He DID get all better and came home!
What a precious story I found. It is neatly tucked away in his box of "treasures." I hope we can share it with his kids one of these days.
