Treating the kids - The operation

That day, we knew Corbin was one of the first on the operation timetable. We were still pleasantly surprised to see his surgeon walk into his room at 8.44am. Corbin was to be the first procedure of the day. After three attempts, Corbin’s blood had passed all the relevant tests. Thankfully, the trauma of explaining NIL BY MOUTH to a non-speaking (and very hungry) five-year-old had been negotiated. So – there we were, walking down to the theatre. Five minutes later, we were back in Corbin’s room packing up his things.

We had been told that the operation would most likely last between four and six hours. All we could do was wait. Luckily, Great Ormond Street Hospital is surrounded by a vast array of shops, restaurants and… well London, basically.

The first couple of hours were easy enough. It was like having the best-qualified respite care imaginable. But very soon, a realisation hit. There is only so much coffee two people can drink while pretending that today is just another day. We were back at the hospital within three hours, armed with every daily newspaper and magazine we could get our hands on.

In truth, Tara was having a harder time of it than me. In my simple mind, Corbin was with the best surgical team possible. Every minute that passed simply meant that they had found something else that needed fixing – and fixed it. However, Tara’s mind began to really torment her after about five hours. As more time passed without any news, she really began to suffer. She imagined all kinds of terrible situations.

Eventually, eight hours after Corbin was anaesthetised, we were told that we could go down to the recovery room. There, he would be waiting for us. I think I was expecting to be greeted by something like a scene from a war movie. In fact, we arrived to find that Corbin had rarely looked so peaceful.

A centimetre-wide strip of hair had been shaved from below his ear to the top of his head. A single bandage was wrapped around his head. A few tubes coming from various parts of his body made for a very welcome and comforting sight. Corbin’s surgeon greeted us and explained that the operation had been performed without any hitches. We were to return to the ward, where Corbin would be placed in the high dependency unit for a couple of days of post-operation observation.

The surgeon had explained that each brain surgery is unique, so there could be no detailed information or recovery plan in place until after the operation had been completed. All that mattered to us at this time was that our son was alive. Now, the next stage of his life could begin – no matter where it might lead.

Corbin’s hemispherectomy had disconnected the right side of his brain. As a result, the entire left side of his body was effectively paralysed. The next few days were going to be critical in discovering whether the left side of his brain would take over the functions previously carried out by the right side.

At least one thing was certain – he could not have been in a more professional or caring environment.