Update 2

Surgery went well. Dr. Spray finished in lightening speed (a local joke I'm told among the nurses that when Spray has your case you'd better be ready because the child will be done and down in the unit in 5 minutes). And while I'm not sure fast is always good, Spray is both fast and good.

I was brought to tears today by an anesthesiology fellow who told me with all sincerity that McKay was treated by arguably the best surgeon and lead anesthesiologist in the world. So good to hear. So good.

Of course that means great groundwork has been laid, but it does not guarantee a clear passage yet. We've been told that we still have 2 to 3 days before we should fully exhale. In three days we should be able to tell how well his lungs and heart are responding to the radical change in pressures the surgery was meant to cause as well as McKay's tendency (we pray not) to have pleural effusions (fluid in and around the lungs) resulting from the change in pressure. Only time will tell and all eyes will focus on the daily chest xray to tell the story.

In the meantime, McKay is having a bit of trouble waking up. A round of painkillers given at 11 am and meant to last about an hour has still not worn off and it's nearing 4:30. He's still out cold. He's breathing well and rosy pink, but we're still waiting to apologize face to face for the semi-ambush he experienced today. Ugg, I wish there was a nice way to tell a two year old what's about to happen to their very sweet heart. Or maybe it's better they don't know. I hope he has to ask me to tell him the story of his scar. I'm sure I can weave one heroic tale of bravery and hope that's not so far from the truth. All eyes are on you to make it one heck of a fairy tale McKay; fight on.