Major Surgery In One Week

Next week at this time, we will be preparing for major surgery. Gabriel has been scheduled for decompression surgery on July 15th at 7:30 am. We have to arrive an hour early.
I'm teetering between being numb and bursting into tears today. Neither one will help this situation or make it go away but I am an emotional wreck. The neurosurgeon said, "this is major surgery but it isn't as invasive as removing a tumor." It was meant to put everything in perspective for us but it makes the fact hit home that a stranger will be in my son's head, manipulating his brain.
The surgeon will remove the top vertebrae, part of his skull, and the cerebellum tonsils that are hanging into his neck. There is also a cyst that needs to be drained. The surgeon doesn't know if the cyst was mislabeled and he actually has hydrocephalus. So there's that - hydrocephalus - a buildup of fluid inside the skull that leads to brain swelling.
The recovery could take 2-5 days in the hospital. The surgeon said that children who aren't as complicated, medically and behaviorally as Gabriel, are usually there for two days. It will take a couple weeks until he feels like himself and then he will be completely recovered in six weeks, given no complications.
Please do not give me credit for handling this well or for having more strength than you can imagine. You would do the same thing I am doing and your heart would be breaking apart to bits as you watch your son today, knowing what he is facing in just over a week. You would take on the surgery yourself if it meant he didn't need to do it. You would need support and strength from people near and far. You would feel desperate and weak. You wouldn't be able explain the absolute fear that rocks you to your core when you consider brain surgery for your child.
Yet you would have hope that his quality of life would improve in six weeks. You are an adult and you have to slap a smile on in order to maintain some type of order in your household. You would feel grateful that there is something to relieve his symptoms, even if it isn't a cure. You would fail in your attempt to thank anyone who steps forward to help.
Put yourself in my shoes and think about how difficult it will be to hand my child, my firstborn "baby", over to a stranger next Tuesday so they can remove bone from his head. It could be you. I never thought this would be me. I'm sure most people aren't prepared for these things.