Mahlon Cody Walker = Texas Giant

Originally posted June 27, 2006

Tuesday, June 27, 2006

Posted by Monte Walker at 2:32 PM

I think it was the summer of 1987 and the new craze at Six Flags was the Texas Giant.... the largest wooden roller coaster in the world...or something like that. Anyway, it was enough to give me sweaty palms, and it had nothing to do with the Six Flags pavement reflecting the 100+ temperature back at me. That experience popped into my mind this morning as I reflect on what has happened since Thursday evening when my wife entered Presby Hospital in Dallas. The doctor told us to have an office visit Thursday afternoon and then stay Thursday night at the hospital. Upon arrival for the office visit, he said that there was no need to stay overnight and to come back Friday morning to induce. That would be great if we lived next to the hospital and not in Sherman. Needless to say, we stayed in the hospital that night and prepared to be induced Friday morning. My wife Tonia had approximately 2 hours of sleep Thursday night and was exhausted by the time they got started Friday morning. She was wheeled into the delivery room at 9:15am and had a massive clock staring her in the face and complete silence (We later found a TV though). 


Being our first child and not knowing any better, I thought that our son might be here before noon. WRONG!!! I had about 20 family members in the waiting area including my 76 year-old grandfather who drove from Howe. Tonia is starting to have a lot of pain around noon and they apply the epidural. More people come to visit and one-by-one, they come back to the delivery room and visit Tonia. At around 3pm, she’s having massive pain and they up the amount of medicine. The nurse leaves the room for some ice chips and Tonia bottoms-out. Her blood pressure dropped to 65/28 and she was able to tell me to get some help fast. At that time, I realized that the Texas Giant just pulled out of the gate. I ran and got the nurse and she calmly walked in the room and calmly walked to Tonia. She saw the blood pressure and then nervously acted calmly and called for help. With Tonia’s eyes closed, she hears the nurse on the phone say, "I NEED HELP IN ROOM 8". [I remembered that the Texas Giant was made of wood and I’m hearing the popping of the 2x4s] Tonia’s eyes open immediately like Jason in the hockey mask on Friday the 13th. With nurses abound, Tonia struggles to keep her sanity and they bring her back to "almost" normal. I feel the roller-coaster level out and wipe my brow. 



I go tell the family what has happened and not to worry. Her mom worries and comes back to the delivery room. About 4pm Tonia is back to normal and we thought, well....it’s going to be soon. WRONG!!! At 6:30pm, the nurse decides that Tonia is about ready to start pushing. The nurse tells us that it could take 10 minutes or two hours. We look at each other in shear disgust. They prepare us for the pushing process and at 7pm she starts. They have a machine turned on to help her contractions. At around 7:15, I see hair on my son. At 7:30 she’s about to work him out until the nurse turns the machine off and the contractions go from every two minutes to about every 10 minutes. My son is hanging in limbo and I’m wondering why the machine was turned off. 


About 8:00, they turn the machine back on and contractions slowly pick back up. Tonia works like a champion over the next ten minutes and they go and retrieve the doctor to pull him out. During this process, they pull down the large spotlight from the ceiling that is attached to a swivel in order to maneuver the light in the position they need. Problem: the light is not working. They bang on the light and say, "this normally works". [I’m screaming as we go down the coaster]. Light doesn’t come on. They laugh. [Going around the curve, I’m still screaming]. Someone accidentally leans on the light and this very large light is now rotating around the room on the swivel and I’m ducking trying to keep it from hitting me in the head. All that we needed as Benny Hill music and the scene would have been complete. The doctor comes in the room and the nurses explain that the light doesn’t work. He calls for a backup. Minutes later, an old-timy spotlight is being rolled into the room bouncing over wires and cords and the Benny Hill music starts up in my head again. 


At 8:19pm, Mahlon arrives. I’m on an emotional high. The doctor asks me if I want to cut the cord and I say YES! I start grabbing at his 8 pair of sterile scissors on his sterile table and I get scolded by the doctor. I once again hear Benny Hill music. He hands me the scissors and I cut the cord. I’ve already taken 3 pictures at this time and one of the nurses hands me a wet rag to wipe the blood off of my hands. Without thinking I place the wet, bloody rag on the sterile table. I get scolded again. (Benny Hill music). I don’t care. I’m too excited! My camera is about to explode. The first thing we look for is his second toe. My wife has a long second toe (which I call centipede toe). He has her centipede toe. They take him to the table to take vital information and we hear from the nurse, "Oh my God, I’ve never seen this amount of fluid before." Tonia is scared. They pump a ton of fluid out of him and it was then that we thought this might not be as easy as we thought. I run out of the delivery room and down the hall to the waiting room to tell our family (who has been there 12 hours). I walk slowly down the hall with the chocolate cigar dangling from my mouth trying to be cool so that I don’t ball all over myself. I see my mom and other family members and ball all over myself. As a matter of fact, I couldn’t even talk. I hug my mom and start crying. My grandpa is worried saying, "What’s wrong, what’s wrong." I hear someone say, "It’s happy tears!" I still couldn’t get the words out. Finally I was able to say "8 pounds, 14 ounces!". It was the happiest moment of my entire life. 


I was so exhausted, yet so alert and wired. The family leaves and we go back to the room and try and get some rest. The nurse tells us that they’ll bring him to our room around midnight so we can feed him. Midnight comes and goes and soon after, the nurse arrives without him and with some news: His breathing is out of control. He takes around 112 breaths per minute and they tell us that it needs to be around 60. They also tell us that there’s nothing they can do except just let him get it out on his own. They tell me that they’re going to have to place an IV on him. I ask where...they say they’ll try his arm/hand, but it could be in his head. I walk down and prepare Tonia that the next time she sees him...it might look scary. We both go back up to see him and thankfully they were able to place it in his arm. 


The nurse comes in at 2am and tells us "Don’t worry. We see this all of the time. If it were very serious, we’d have to call the pediatrician." At 4am, the nurse comes in and tells us that they just called the pediatrician, but still says to not get too overly concerned. I somehow was able to fall asleep. Tonia never did. I awoke to her crying and wondering why he had to be sick. Later Saturday morning his breathing was around 80 per minute and heading in the right direction and we thought that we might have rounded 3rd base [or went over our last hill]. About 10pm Saturday night, his breathing went back up (in the 90’s and showed no signs of progress) and we thought he might wear himself out. He wasn’t able to eat because he couldn’t eat and breathe at the same time. He did have an IV, but it’s just not the same. I lose it. We go outside the hospital, sit down, and comfort each other. We made our way back to her hospital room and lay there in complete silence. She looks at me and says, "Why don’t we go see him and see if he’s any better." I agreed only because I knew she wanted to see him. 


We went up and we both held him for the first time since five minutes after delivery. His breathing took a dramatic turn when Tonia held him. We both felt tremendously better after getting to hold him...and he did too apparently. Tonia, who had two hours of sleep Thursday night, didn’t sleep Friday night, and again didn’t sleep Saturday night. Sunday morning I awoke to find that Mahlon’s breathing had made tremendous progression. The nurses say that after he was held by his mother (the night before), he kept getting better and better. They even put a feeding tube in his nose. We were able to hold him and later even feed him. It was so exciting. 


We had turned the corner and were looking forward to taking him home on Monday. WRONG!!! We checked of the hospital Sunday night and were staying at a local hotel because our son was still in Short Stay Nursing. Tonia got about 3 hours of sleep (first sleep since 2 hours on Thursday night) and woke me up saying that he wouldn’t be leaving for at least a week. He now has jaundice. [Just how long is this Texas Giant ride anyway? 


We go to the hospital Monday morning and Mahlon is in the big blue lights with Kareem Abdul-Jabbar goggles on. It’s hard to see him this way, but it’s for the best. He has been circumcised, and now the nurse is pricking his feet for blood. She can’t get very much, so she keeps sticking him. He looks at her like..."what else you got!" I fed him in the plastic cage (which is very hard to do by the way) and then realized that I was tongue-tied when I was born and that we better check his tongue. The nurse says that she’ll have the pediatrician check it and sure enough...he’s tongue-tied. They’ll have to cut that at a later date. Tonia stayed near the hospital for the most part of Monday while I tended to other items that needed to be attended to. 


As of Tuesday morning, he’s heading (once again) in the right direction. The Texas Giant, if I remember right, was a very up and down experience that left me with a serious backache. I just hope we’re heading back to let the next group on.