Finally Home

79. Tyler

Samantha was taken for surgery at six AM. The nurse had come in, gotten her ready and gave her a little sedation. She was already groggy from sleep and it was so early. Despite a sedative, she hadn't slept well.

Jenna and I walked with Samantha's stretcher to the elevators.

"Don't let them take my leg!" Samantha sobbed as we approached the elevators.

"Sam, that's not our call," I said. "We have to trust the doctors know best. They'll do what needs to be done and what is best for you."

"I don't want to lose my leg!" She cried.

"I know, baby.  And they don't want to take it if they don't have to."

"Please, please! Tell them not to take it!" Samantha pleaded. My heart broke for her. But it was out of our control.

We gave her kisses, hugged her and told her we would be waiting for her. She was so upset.

They took her down to the operating room and we went to the surgical waiting room. Jenna texted Debby to let her know where to find us when they came to the hospital. We didn't know how long the surgery would take.

Around eight, Debby, Josh and Rosie came into the waiting room.

Josh handed me a coffee and a breakfast sandwich,

"The school!" Jenna said, and immediately called to report Samantha's absence. She then called Erin and told her what was happening.

Twenty minutes later, Erin walked into the room.

"Erin!" Jenna said. "You didn't have to come all the way here!"

"Well, by unhappy coincidence, we were already here."

"Did Jill have a seizure?"

"Kyle actually. And not a seizure. He broke his arm skateboarding yesterday and had an open reduction. We'll probably go home today. I texted Jill to ask her to get Sam's homework."

"Thank you."

Erin visited for a short while, while Kyle rested. She left, offering words of encouragement.

Rosie was mostly keeping herself busy but was entertaining and distracting.

Erin and Kyle came in around noon as they were heading home.

"Any word?" Erin asked.

"Nothing yet," I said.

She gave us hugs, asked us to keep her in the loop and took Kyle home.

At one, the surgeon came into the waiting room. Rosie was hopping on one foot. Her left.

The doctor looked tired. He looked defeated. He looked upset.

He sat us down and told us everything. The infection went deeper than they thought. The adhesions - the scar tissue - had infiltrated more of the muscle and vessels than they'd realized on the ultrasounds. Large areas of muscle had already started dying. In fact, he said, it was lucky that Sam had gotten the infection in the first place, because otherwise, within probably a few weeks she'd have been right where we were but in significantly more pain than she'd been in.

Then he told us the outcome.

They'd had to take the leg. There was just too much damage to Sam's muscle. Too much tissue had started dying. They'd had to take about two inches above the knee.

Sam was going to be devastated. I had no idea how we were going to tell her. I had no idea how to help her through this. The diabetes, that was easy to learn. The seizures after her head injuries, we figured it out. We'd figured out everything Sam had faced. I just didn't know how we'd handle this. It affected everything in Sam's life. It was her leg!  She played basketball. She ran, she chased Rosie.

I broke down crying. Not for me. For Sam. She wasn't going to handle this well. We'd help her through it, of course. But how.  How would we help her find new passions? She lived for basketball. Sure, she had other talents, of course. But she's 16! With everything she's been through, why was this happening to her, now?  Why Sam.

"Tyler," Jenna said, wrapping her arms around me. "We'll get through this. We'll get her through this."

I shook my head. I couldn't fathom this. This was big. This was visible. This was something Sam would look at every day and miss.

"SaSa okay, Mama?" Rosie asked, coming over to us.

"She's going to be okay, Peanut," Jenna said. "She's gonna need a lot of help from her favourite nurse, though."

"I help!" Rosie said. "I help SaSa no be sad."

"It's going to take a lot of work, Rosie. Samantha has a really big boo boo this time."

"SaSa's leg?" Rosie asked. "It not hurt anymore."

I picked my daughter up and placed her in my lap, hugging her close to me. Her innocence at this moment was heartbreaking.

"Dada, SaSa's leg is no more hurt," Rosie said.

"I know. I know. But now Samantha has a big boo-boo."

"No boo-boo," Rosie said.

I didn't know how to explain this to Rosie. And if I couldn't explain it to a two-year-old, how was I going to explain it to a 16-year-old.

Josh and Debby took Rosie to get some lunch while Jenna and I waited for Samantha to be brought back to her room.

When she was, and was settled into bed, we were allowed in to sit with her. She looked fine. She was asleep, owing to the anesthesia from the surgery.  

I looked at her as we walked into her room. I had to stifle a sob as I looked at her. Where her right leg should have been was flat blanket. I touched the space where her leg should have been. Tears flowed from my eyes.

I knew I had to get a hold of myself before Sam woke up. We needed to be strong for her. We needed to help her deal with this. This new, reality.

I looked over at Jenna who was at Sam's head, stroking her hair and whispering quietly to her.

"Hey, Sam, it's Mom and Dad. We're here sweetheart. You're out of surgery. So you rest up and we'll be here when you wake up," she was saying to her.

I moved to her left side and took her hand.

Josh, Debby and Rosie came into the room. Rosie jumped up onto Sam's bed.

"Oh. SaSa sleeping?" Rosie said, sitting in the spot where Sam's leg would have been. I let out a slight sob.

"Has she woken up at all?" Josh asked, sitting beside me.

I shook my head.

"No. She's still asleep. The doctor said she might be out for a while."

Debby sat beside Jenna.

"Hey there sweet girl," she said. "We're all here for you."

Sam slept on.

Around five, Josh and Debby took Rosie home for dinner and bedtime. Jenna and I were staying with Sam. They said they'd be back in the morning with breakfast and a change of clothes.

Around six, Sam started to stir.