May 1st...Another Big Day...Another Sighting of a Big God
As promised, we headed up to the U for Zoe's follow-up heart cath. We were fresh off a big birthday celebration that I'll be happy to share with you at a later date. Today's news revolves the long-awaited day we've been waiting so not-so-patiently for. In case you're wondering, that portion of the Spirit's fruit seems to be shoved down deep...covered over by the much-loved beauties, immediate gratification and self-absorbtion. Lame.
We were so grateful to have all the pre-op appointments scheduled the same day as the procedure. It all sounded good on paper...much better than the 3 day adventure we had the last time! Of course, I quickly began to rethink the benefit when we had to skip meds, skip breakfast, and head to the city very early that day...only to return very late that evening. Zoe threw up all over herself just as I pulled into the Hyvee parking lot to pick up Renee. Super. My Favorite thing. Once we got her cleaned up and settled, we arrived at the hospital just in time.
Our morning consisted of the same ol' stuff that I'd never heard of before a year ago. Oh don't be so appalled. Yes, I know I've known people that have had serious health conditions...I've even had a few of my own...but to be fair, I did warn you of the self-absorption. Happy ignorance. That basically covers it.
Zoe's sats were 88-90, and she weighed in at 19 lbs. The fasting made for a crankier toddler, but all-in-all, she was a champ. They gave us the same basic information but said to expect a much quicker turn-around...practically guaranteeing no PICU or sleepover at all. Bonus. The worse part of those pre-op moments was when I began to prep her for the procedure myself. As soon as I started to change her into her hospital gown, a lone tear escaped from her sad eyes...followed by another...then another. But she made no sound. I would have much preferred she have been screaming! She knew. She 100% knew...and I couldn't comfort the moment away. I had to pull the trigger. I had to thrust the knife. I was the traitor...and she was the trusting victim. I may be overstating it to any innocent bystander, but that was the message those eyes were conveying. Then to add salt to the wound, I once again carried her into the procedure room so that my presence could "comfort" her...that's laughable. She let me hold the mask near her face...then a little closer...then once it began to cause her to drift, her brain sent the panic message. She looked straight into my eyes as they held the mask tighter and as tears streamed down her face, shook her head no at me over and over as she cried. Somehow I gathered the puddle formerly known as my body and left the room...it was that or get carried out. It seemed the better option.
I'll admit to my typical medical confusion when Dr. Divakar came back in and said, "The pressures look basically the same as last time...so we should be good for surgery." I thought the pressures weren't good enough last time for surgery...I thought that's what we were waiting for...I thought I was clueless, and I was right. Finally! HA! He said his bigger concern at this point was the stinkin' valve that won't keep its mouth shut. No matter what procedures they could hope to perform, that valve will still be crappy. (I mean the fish, mom...no potty mouth!) He added that he'd do the formal calculations and let us know the final number. Incidentally, we're talking paper and pencil, people...2013...no technology...old school all the way. (Yes...we asked if this was legit. No, I'm not ashamed to admit it.) We followed her tiny self on that enormous stretcher, along with her team of 3 doctors, to the recovery room where we waited for her wakeup call. You better believe she gave me the what-for when she did wake up...yea...not happy with the madre. She must not realize I'm used to that response from my offspring...she obviously thought I'd just pick her right up and make a break for it...I did all I could do, which was hold her head in my hand (while the nurse held down her "cath leg" like a vice) and tell her my favorite lie..."Just a minute...we can leave in just a minute." She didn't even want me to sing to her...knife blade returned. Out of nowhere, Renee produces this flavored sponge on a stick...I kid you not, that's what it was...and we were golden. Still not thrilled with her treacherous mother and her posse, she calmed down long enough to break out of that joint...only headed to another...remember that 6 hour-lay flat rule...yea. But at least this time, we boycotted the PICU and got to hang with the common folk.
I braced myself for the strapping down ordeal we endured last time with me laying on the bed, Zoe on top on me, our legs straight-jacketed together. But no sooner had I laid down on the bed, and they transferred her over, she dried up the waterworks and went back to sucking on that dang sponge-on-a-stick. I gotta get me some of that. She seemed content to simply lay there beside me as we began the quarantine. We had wonderful nurses once again and even dvd delivery from the library...you guessed it...Barney to the rescue. All in all, it was a rather uneventful 6 hours! Mostly, we chatted with nurses that recalled the glory days of Dr. Davis and snacked on our fingers when necessary...Zoe got to have her beloved mashed potatoes instead. Sheesh...always the patient at the wrong hospital. Oh...and I drank Dr. Pepper...lots and lots of Dr. Pepper.
The end result was an astonishing result that Dr. Divakar happily delivered. The pressures that started at 5, went down to 2.5, and had to be below 2...after all the calculating dust had settled...came in at 1.45.
Our God is an awesome God. He reigns with wisdom, power, and love. Our God is an awesome God.
We were so grateful to have all the pre-op appointments scheduled the same day as the procedure. It all sounded good on paper...much better than the 3 day adventure we had the last time! Of course, I quickly began to rethink the benefit when we had to skip meds, skip breakfast, and head to the city very early that day...only to return very late that evening. Zoe threw up all over herself just as I pulled into the Hyvee parking lot to pick up Renee. Super. My Favorite thing. Once we got her cleaned up and settled, we arrived at the hospital just in time.
Our morning consisted of the same ol' stuff that I'd never heard of before a year ago. Oh don't be so appalled. Yes, I know I've known people that have had serious health conditions...I've even had a few of my own...but to be fair, I did warn you of the self-absorption. Happy ignorance. That basically covers it.
Zoe's sats were 88-90, and she weighed in at 19 lbs. The fasting made for a crankier toddler, but all-in-all, she was a champ. They gave us the same basic information but said to expect a much quicker turn-around...practically guaranteeing no PICU or sleepover at all. Bonus. The worse part of those pre-op moments was when I began to prep her for the procedure myself. As soon as I started to change her into her hospital gown, a lone tear escaped from her sad eyes...followed by another...then another. But she made no sound. I would have much preferred she have been screaming! She knew. She 100% knew...and I couldn't comfort the moment away. I had to pull the trigger. I had to thrust the knife. I was the traitor...and she was the trusting victim. I may be overstating it to any innocent bystander, but that was the message those eyes were conveying. Then to add salt to the wound, I once again carried her into the procedure room so that my presence could "comfort" her...that's laughable. She let me hold the mask near her face...then a little closer...then once it began to cause her to drift, her brain sent the panic message. She looked straight into my eyes as they held the mask tighter and as tears streamed down her face, shook her head no at me over and over as she cried. Somehow I gathered the puddle formerly known as my body and left the room...it was that or get carried out. It seemed the better option.
I'll admit to my typical medical confusion when Dr. Divakar came back in and said, "The pressures look basically the same as last time...so we should be good for surgery." I thought the pressures weren't good enough last time for surgery...I thought that's what we were waiting for...I thought I was clueless, and I was right. Finally! HA! He said his bigger concern at this point was the stinkin' valve that won't keep its mouth shut. No matter what procedures they could hope to perform, that valve will still be crappy. (I mean the fish, mom...no potty mouth!) He added that he'd do the formal calculations and let us know the final number. Incidentally, we're talking paper and pencil, people...2013...no technology...old school all the way. (Yes...we asked if this was legit. No, I'm not ashamed to admit it.) We followed her tiny self on that enormous stretcher, along with her team of 3 doctors, to the recovery room where we waited for her wakeup call. You better believe she gave me the what-for when she did wake up...yea...not happy with the madre. She must not realize I'm used to that response from my offspring...she obviously thought I'd just pick her right up and make a break for it...I did all I could do, which was hold her head in my hand (while the nurse held down her "cath leg" like a vice) and tell her my favorite lie..."Just a minute...we can leave in just a minute." She didn't even want me to sing to her...knife blade returned. Out of nowhere, Renee produces this flavored sponge on a stick...I kid you not, that's what it was...and we were golden. Still not thrilled with her treacherous mother and her posse, she calmed down long enough to break out of that joint...only headed to another...remember that 6 hour-lay flat rule...yea. But at least this time, we boycotted the PICU and got to hang with the common folk.
I braced myself for the strapping down ordeal we endured last time with me laying on the bed, Zoe on top on me, our legs straight-jacketed together. But no sooner had I laid down on the bed, and they transferred her over, she dried up the waterworks and went back to sucking on that dang sponge-on-a-stick. I gotta get me some of that. She seemed content to simply lay there beside me as we began the quarantine. We had wonderful nurses once again and even dvd delivery from the library...you guessed it...Barney to the rescue. All in all, it was a rather uneventful 6 hours! Mostly, we chatted with nurses that recalled the glory days of Dr. Davis and snacked on our fingers when necessary...Zoe got to have her beloved mashed potatoes instead. Sheesh...always the patient at the wrong hospital. Oh...and I drank Dr. Pepper...lots and lots of Dr. Pepper.
The end result was an astonishing result that Dr. Divakar happily delivered. The pressures that started at 5, went down to 2.5, and had to be below 2...after all the calculating dust had settled...came in at 1.45.
Our God is an awesome God. He reigns with wisdom, power, and love. Our God is an awesome God.
