Yesterday, Abbe was allowed to sit on our laps for the first time. Mum had the great honour of being first out, and when I saw the little hero in his mum’s safe arms I couldn’t keep the tears back. It was all just... too good.
Today, after "cleaning up" and chest X-ray, we could move into a room of our own. That means phase three is completed. It’s so good to have your own place. Come and go as you please, close the door. The little newly operated children need that calm now and then.
As Abbe is wireless now, I took the opportunity to put him in the buggy and walk around the ward a bit. It does him good to get out of the bed for a while. In the corridor, we came up to one of those activity boards, placed at a 2-year-old’s level, featuring various turning wheels. I stopped the wheelchair and Abbe played with the cogwheels and peg tops that he could reach. "Neee", he says suddenly.
It suddenly struck me that it might not be a wise move, as it was only three days ago since he had his heart operation. Only just 24 hours since he came to. But then I remembered the nurse saying he could come up when he felt he was able to. So I help him down from the wheelchair and onto the floor. Still a bit unsteady from the Dormicum dose he received during the clean-up an hour ago, he stands there for a while and plays with the board. Then he walks away.
I can hardly keep up. I simply wasn’t prepared for him standing up, even. As some kind of human safety net, I walk behind Abbe with my hands just a centimeter from his upper arms. He goes out to the play corner, makes coffee for mum, makes a sandwich and does the dishes in a little play kitchen. Suddenly, he knows what he wants to do. "Inna”, he says and only mum and myself understand, but that doesn’t matter. I know it means he wants to play with Play Doh.
I help him into a high chair, bring out the dough, he starts playing and makes peas, sausages and cookies. It’s about here that I start to realise. With new tears of joy in my eyes. Abbe is the toughest person I have ever met.