Josiah has had quite a few adventures with anesthesia this year.  He had his 3rd surgical procedure of 2024 one week ago.  He doesn’t typically have surgical procedures.  It just so happens they were necessary this year.

Each time Josiah was blessed to have the world’s most amazing anesthesiologist by his side.  This man called our home prior to all 3 procedures to talk to us about Josiah’s needs.  He gathered quite a bit of information to formulate a plan so Josiah would be as calm and as comfortable as possible.  It made a huge difference.

He personally escorted us out of the hospital, helped transfer Josiah to his seat, buckled Josiah’s seat belt, then folded up his adaptive stroller and put it in the trunk of our car.  He also called us at our home after each procedure to check on Josiah. Who does that?

We are so thankful for this man’s kindness and compassion.  If at all possible Josiah will only undergo anesthesia from now on if he is able to have Dr. Timothy Saye at the helm.

This however is not about Josiah’s amazing anesthesiologist.  It’s about the wild and rocky ride some incredible health care personnel and security guards endured as Josiah rapidly woke from anesthesia.

Josiah was in the recovery room when I got a text message to come sit with him.  His awesome caregiver and I immediately sprung into action,  each dawning a pair of nail clippers to carefully trim Josiah’s toe nails.   Trimming Josiah’s nails is not something that happens often enough.  He is extremely averse to anyone even touching his feet, let alone his toe nails.  Therefore, they become worthy of the Guiness Book of World Records between clippings.  We discovered the best time to trim then is when Josiah is sedated.

We were able to give Josiah impeccably manicured toes as he peacefully slept.

When we finished, the attending nurse mentioned that Josiah may need some additional medication to help wake him as he was in a very deep sleep and would take quite a while to wake on his own.

Jokingly, his amazing caregiver casually said, “All you have to do is touch his toes.”  The words barely left her lips when Josiah hurled himself up off the bed with lightening speed, tore the breathing tube out of his mouth, the IV out of his arm and savagely tore at the sticky pads on his chest.

One moment he was deeply sedated, in a medicated slumber.  The next instant he jumped into action, hurling himself almost completely off the bed.  The nurse, his caregiver and I did our best to try to keep Josiah ON the bed, but to no avail.  After a few very challenging minutes when I was sure he would tumble onto the floor,  I requested she call for back up.

Thankfully, two security guards arrived immediately.  Nurses from the operating room who were not busy right then rushed in to assist. As they made their way through the door, I climbed up over the rails, to lay next to Josiah.  I wrapped one arm under his waist, the other over his waist and tightly gripped the side rail as I tried to reassure him he was okay.

When I looked up there were 7 of us surrounding his bed.

Who am I kidding?  There were 7 of us practically IN the bed with Josiah.  One man was laying across Josiah’s legs, holding his knees.  There was someone at each of his arms.  Someone else near his head and I think there were 2 people helping with his hands.  A nurse stood by the monitoring machine.  The caregiver was back in a corner, trying her best to not be in the way.

I figured calmly reassuring Josiah would help.  It didn’t.  He thrashed about with his super human strength, nearly successful in his attempts to free himself from the bed.  That kid (yes, I’m aware he’s 22 but I still refer to him as a kid) is unbelievably strong.

For what felt like an eternity, we remained at our posts, each determined to keep Josiah from hurting himself.  I don’t believe I’ve ever been as up close and personal with total strangers as I was that day.

Dr. Saye came in a few times to assess the situation and discuss options.

He tried an oral med in some jello.  Josiah spat it from his mouth directly onto the security guard laying over his legs, who’s hands were now covered in red slime.  Someone dabbed him clean.  In the process we discovered the oral med was sitting up in Josiah’s upper palate.  He hadn’t swallowed it which meant it wasn’t going to be very effective.

A liquid alternative was brought it and squirted through a syringe in Josiah’s mouth.  All the while, all 7 of us are still wrapping ourselves around Josiah’s body to keep him safe.

The entire time I made light of the situation, interjecting humor to keep everyone laughing.  I just said whatever popped in my head in the moment.  It helped me to keep a positive perspective and not to dwell too much on how Josiah must be feeling.

I can’t begin to imagine what it might be like to have 7 people holding you in a bed when you are groggy and disoriented.  Thinking of it from Josiah’s perspective for even a second would have had me in tears.

It’s heartbreaking to watch a loved one suffer, not sure if they understand what is happening to them.

If you’re a parent of a child with a disability, most likely you understand.  I would have given anything to trade places with Josiah that day or to have rewritten a different outcome for him. But this is the path he is walking.  The best I can do is to be there for him, to support him and to let him know we are doing everything we can to help him have his best life.  I pray he understands that.

For me, humor and laughter seem to make it all just a wee bit easier.  It takes me out of the moment and puts me in a happier place.   I’m sure it also means I’m suppressing emotions I should probably deal with at some point.

Thankfully, the oral meds eventually kicked in.  Josiah calmed enough for us to put him in his adaptive stroller.  We made a makeshift strap from a hospital sheet to wrap up under his arms for added security.

That incredible anesthesiologist escorted us to the car to make sure Josiah was okay.  What a guy!

We are forever grateful to those amazing human beings who raced to Josiah’s side to support us for close to an hour.  To each of them I offer my heartfelt thanks which I know isn’t nearly enough.

That afternoon I ordered some cookies to be delivered to them.  I added a note which said, Thank you for being so SWEET today.  Josiah is one touch COOKIE, but you never CRUMBLEd.  We are so grateful to each of you for your support.

As best I can tell, the cookies never made it to them.  The poor Door Dash guy called asking for directions.  When he finally made it to the hospital, he texted to let me know no one ever heard of Dr. Saye or his staff.  I’m not sure who enjoyed those cookies but I do know one thing for sure.

For any and all surgical procedures for Josiah, from here on out, I’m sending Rick!