Waiting #
After our son was taken into the operating room, there was nothing left for us to do except wait.
The nurses came out from time to time to update us on his progress, which helped more than they probably realized. They also gave us an iPad with videos explaining postoperative care and a blue folder filled with detailed instructions for the days ahead. Looking back, I appreciate how much effort the team put into preparing parents, not just patients.
Even so, waiting was hard. Every time someone walked into the waiting room, I looked up, hoping there would be news.
Hearing the results #
Before we saw our son, Dr. Snodgrass came to speak with us.
I still remember him smiling as he explained how the surgery had gone. He told us that our son did have hypospadias rather than just webbing, and that the curvature had been successfully corrected during this first stage.
Then he told us something we hadn’t expected. Our son’s skin was much thinner than anticipated, and he recommended starting hyperbaric oxygen therapy, or HBOT, immediately.
This surprised us because before surgery we had been told that children undergoing their first operation often did not need HBOT. Since there had been no previous surgery or scar tissue, we assumed we would simply go home after discharge. Instead, our day was only beginning.
An unexpected afternoon #
Once our son was stable enough to leave the recovery room, we were taken directly upstairs to the HBOT center.
By then I had barely eaten anything all day. I had spent the morning worrying, then held our son for a long time while he recovered from anesthesia. As we were leaving the recovery area, I suddenly felt lightheaded and realized I was close to fainting. My husband quietly suggested that he go into the chamber with our son while I stayed outside.
Because we had not expected HBOT, we also had not packed the cotton clothing required for treatment. Fortunately, the HBOT center had clothing available. We quickly found something that fit well enough, changed him, and prepared for the session.
The longest ninety minutes #
The treatment lasted about ninety minutes. Our son cried for almost the entire session.
He was still fuzzy from anesthesia, and as the chamber was pressurized, he became more and more upset. My husband sat beside him inside the chamber, gently holding his hands so he would not grab at anything. I stood outside, watching through the glass. His crying never really stopped. Toward the end, his voice became hoarse.
I remember wanting so badly to comfort him, but there was nothing I could do. I tried using the chamber’s telephone system to talk with my husband. I hoped we could figure out some way to calm our son together. Between the noise inside the chamber and our son’s crying, we could barely hear each other.
The more helpless I felt, the more emotional I became. Eventually, one of the staff members gently asked me to step outside and try to calm down.
A memory that stayed with me #
That afternoon has stayed with me far more vividly than many other parts of our journey. Three years have passed since then. Our son has recovered, and our lives have moved forward. Even so, I still remember standing outside that chamber, watching him cry while there was nothing I could do.
Sometimes I wonder whether I could have handled it differently. The truth is, I don’t think I could have. I was carrying months of fear, guilt, exhaustion, and uncertainty into that day. More than anything, I was simply a mother watching her child go through something painful.
When the treatment was finally over, we drove back to our Airbnb. The surgery was behind us. Recovery was just beginning.
Take a deep breath. One day at a time.
