Day 6

He hasn't slept. He wasn't able to take sedation due to the risk of his airway collapsing.

Last night he was in narcotics withdrawal, uncontrollably shaking, coughing, scratching, self hurting. He signed mummy and daddy. His only words were "I'm ok" mimicking mine in a daze. I didn't know if it was a seizure having not experienced the latter. I cried with him. We were both at once terrified and without reserve. My lack of reserve lead to sleep, his lack of sedation lead to complete alertness.

Today he is still awake. Completely awake. Sleep lies seemingly as far away in his mind as Disneyland. The two giant helium tanks were wheeled away, the IV fluids to his veins were lowered to make way for Pedialite electrolyte solution by feeding tube. He's breathing on pressured room air through a nasal cannula.

I drive home when Jason arrives but daydream of sleep at the wheel. I wonder when relief from tremendous stress actually comes. We go from the stress of hours waiting for news from the operating room, to narcotics withdrawal. There is no down time. Relief is still taking her time.