Sunday, 12 February, 2012
Wednesday, 8 February, 2012
A heartbreaking work of staggering miracles
The past six days have been a whirlwind of the incredible.
On Friday night, the Little Man's Nana called paramedics when his Papa didn't seem to be feeling quite right. They quickly detected that something was going on with his heart and their dispatch directed them to the emergency department of the Heart Institute here in town.
Nana called me and we quickly followed him there, joking a little along the way. I was worried, but didn't think much would come of his trip to the ER.
I couldn't have been more wrong.
By the time we caught up with him he was conscious yet having a massive heart attack. Based on the readings it seemed like a significant blockage and Papa was rushed to the Cath Lab for an angiogram. Sure enough, the main branch of his left artery was completely blocked. The amazing medical staff were able to insert a small wire and balloon into the artery to restore some blood flow and when we saw him again, he was still awake and pain free.
I started to get a little concerned when they said they'd have to get into surgery right away because the blockage was too extensive for stents. But I figured lots of people had bypass surgery and lived to tell about it, so he would be okay too. After all, Papa was young and in good health. He'd never had any issues with his heart or his cholesterol, never smoked or used alcohol in excess.
We settled in for a long night of waiting, touched when the Nursing Coordinator took the time to find us a quiet place to wait and ensured we had water and snacks since everything was closed for the night.
At 7 am the next day, a full nine hours after I'd first gotten the call that something was up, his surgeon came to tell us that while the triple bypass surgery was successful, the damage to Papa's heart was extensive and when they tried to take him off the heart-lung machine, his heart wouldn't beat on its own. More time was spent hooking him up to a temporary external device that would keep his heart beating for him.
We finally saw him later that day, he was heavily sedated (so he wouldn't fight the ventilator or move the device keeping him alive) and the danger now was that his other organs wouldn't survive the loss of blood and oxygen and would start to fail.
Forty eight hours later, when his organs were still doing well, the ICU team sat us down to talk about the next steps. Scans of his heart revealed that it hadn't regained any of the lost function from the heart attack and he would need either a transplant or an artificial heart to bridge him to transplant. The challenge was, while he was a universal donor because of his blood type, he could only receive an organ from someone with the same blood type as him. The team quickly cautioned us that the wait time for a donor heart with his blood type, that was also a match in all other ways, was typically weeks.
We only had another 3-7 days before his physicians would have to do something because the external device would not work indefinitely.
I went home on Tuesday preparing myself for another operation in a few days times, one that would in all likelihood involve an artificial heart. That night I prayed for a peaceful night, with no phone calls or interruptions. I hadn't slept well in over a week . . . between being sick myself, getting up with the Baby Man, the Little Man fighting off a nasty cold coupled with multiple asthma attacks and then Papa's troubles, nobody was sleeping at our house.
At 2 am Wednesday morning the phone rang. Nana was calling to say they'd found a heart for Papa. I immediately starting lifting up the family and friends of the donor in prayer. At 6 am we left for the hospital. We chose to wait at home during the surgery and during that time I attempted to explain a little more about what was happening to the Little Man.
Jake had only one question at the end of my simplified explanation. "Will Papa's new heart come with Jesus already in it? Because new hearts usually don't and so then will we have to Baptize him again?"
At noon we were back at the hospital and at 2 pm the same surgeon who saved his life on Friday night was coming to tell us that the transplant surgery had gone really well and he was very pleased with everything.
We're not out of the woods yet, so if you're the praying kind, we'd sure appreciate yours. And I can't end this post without mentioning how grateful we are to the family of the donor who said "yes". Yes, something good can come from our tragedy. Yes, despite our loss, despite our grief, another family should have hope.
Sign your organ donor card and more importantly (because without the support of your next of kin, your organs cannot be donated) talk to your family about your wishes.
On Friday night, the Little Man's Nana called paramedics when his Papa didn't seem to be feeling quite right. They quickly detected that something was going on with his heart and their dispatch directed them to the emergency department of the Heart Institute here in town.
Nana called me and we quickly followed him there, joking a little along the way. I was worried, but didn't think much would come of his trip to the ER.
I couldn't have been more wrong.
By the time we caught up with him he was conscious yet having a massive heart attack. Based on the readings it seemed like a significant blockage and Papa was rushed to the Cath Lab for an angiogram. Sure enough, the main branch of his left artery was completely blocked. The amazing medical staff were able to insert a small wire and balloon into the artery to restore some blood flow and when we saw him again, he was still awake and pain free.
I started to get a little concerned when they said they'd have to get into surgery right away because the blockage was too extensive for stents. But I figured lots of people had bypass surgery and lived to tell about it, so he would be okay too. After all, Papa was young and in good health. He'd never had any issues with his heart or his cholesterol, never smoked or used alcohol in excess.
We settled in for a long night of waiting, touched when the Nursing Coordinator took the time to find us a quiet place to wait and ensured we had water and snacks since everything was closed for the night.
At 7 am the next day, a full nine hours after I'd first gotten the call that something was up, his surgeon came to tell us that while the triple bypass surgery was successful, the damage to Papa's heart was extensive and when they tried to take him off the heart-lung machine, his heart wouldn't beat on its own. More time was spent hooking him up to a temporary external device that would keep his heart beating for him.
We finally saw him later that day, he was heavily sedated (so he wouldn't fight the ventilator or move the device keeping him alive) and the danger now was that his other organs wouldn't survive the loss of blood and oxygen and would start to fail.
Forty eight hours later, when his organs were still doing well, the ICU team sat us down to talk about the next steps. Scans of his heart revealed that it hadn't regained any of the lost function from the heart attack and he would need either a transplant or an artificial heart to bridge him to transplant. The challenge was, while he was a universal donor because of his blood type, he could only receive an organ from someone with the same blood type as him. The team quickly cautioned us that the wait time for a donor heart with his blood type, that was also a match in all other ways, was typically weeks.
We only had another 3-7 days before his physicians would have to do something because the external device would not work indefinitely.
I went home on Tuesday preparing myself for another operation in a few days times, one that would in all likelihood involve an artificial heart. That night I prayed for a peaceful night, with no phone calls or interruptions. I hadn't slept well in over a week . . . between being sick myself, getting up with the Baby Man, the Little Man fighting off a nasty cold coupled with multiple asthma attacks and then Papa's troubles, nobody was sleeping at our house.
At 2 am Wednesday morning the phone rang. Nana was calling to say they'd found a heart for Papa. I immediately starting lifting up the family and friends of the donor in prayer. At 6 am we left for the hospital. We chose to wait at home during the surgery and during that time I attempted to explain a little more about what was happening to the Little Man.
Jake had only one question at the end of my simplified explanation. "Will Papa's new heart come with Jesus already in it? Because new hearts usually don't and so then will we have to Baptize him again?"
At noon we were back at the hospital and at 2 pm the same surgeon who saved his life on Friday night was coming to tell us that the transplant surgery had gone really well and he was very pleased with everything.
We're not out of the woods yet, so if you're the praying kind, we'd sure appreciate yours. And I can't end this post without mentioning how grateful we are to the family of the donor who said "yes". Yes, something good can come from our tragedy. Yes, despite our loss, despite our grief, another family should have hope.
Sign your organ donor card and more importantly (because without the support of your next of kin, your organs cannot be donated) talk to your family about your wishes.
Tuesday, 31 January, 2012
Parenting the second time around
Jill, who writes eloquently over at More Than, is a Mom to one four year old and most recently a set of fraternal twins. We were chatting about the those lovely twins a few months ago, even before the Baby Man's arrival when I asked her how things were going.
"Much better", was her quick reply, "especially now that they're sleeping through the night."
Had I not been trapped in the corner of the family room sectional I would have fallen off the couch. Sleeping through the night?! I did some quick calculations and blurted out, "but they've just turned four months old! How can they be sleeping through the night?"
"Two words", she told me, "Benign neglect."
Thus far my only frame of parenting reference had come in the form of an amazing little boy with a whack of allergies and health issues that made for a painful infancy with little or no sleep on anyone's part. For months I had been gearing myself up for more of the same. I figured the chances of the next little guy having similar concerns were pretty good.
So coupled with the knowledge I gained through Jake's experiences and Jill's wisdom, I have to say that parenting this time around has been, well, a pleasure.
Don't get me wrong. I love the Little Man and am so grateful for his presence in our lives, and both the things I learned from him and the ways I grew personally throughout his health challenges. Yet, it's amazing how a severe lack of sleep can seriously impact every aspect of your life, and parenting Jake was not often a pleasure - at least not in the moment.
This time around, instead of stressing about doing what "they" say is right, I'm doing what is right for Noah, for me, for our family. It's refreshingly freeing, being a Mom this time around. I find myself able to really trust my instincts, to relax and enjoy the ride. Of course life isn't perfect or even easy every moment of the day, but deep down . . . deep, deep, deep down, it's peaceful.
Benign neglect.
It doesn't mean I leave him to "cry it out". It doesn't mean I don't promptly change his wet or dirty diapers. It doesn't mean he eats on my schedule rather than his. It doesn't mean he lays in his crib all day with nothing more to look at than a homemade mobile. It doesn't mean we don't rock him to sleep, sing to him, talk to him, hold him, "wear" him or cuddle him.
It simply means, for me, that's it's okay for him to lay on the floor talking to his toys for awhile. It means, for me, that he doesn't always get picked up immediately at the first sound of complaint. It means, for me, that sometimes the Little Man does come before the Baby Man.
Benign neglect. Experience. Common sense. Instinct. Parenting the second time around.
Wednesday, 18 January, 2012
The universe is out to get us
So this evening, while Mr. Tree was letting his car warm up (it hadn't been driven in over a week), he started gently scraping the ice off the windshield after about a half hour of letting it run. Not long into the scraping the windshield broke into a spiderweb of cracks. Ironically, he hadn't made a dent in the ice.
The "we can fix your windshield in about an hour and we make 24 hour house calls" company can't fix it until Friday. Which means I'm without a car until then because after being home sick for over a week (hence the reason the car hadn't been driven lately), Mr. Tree really needs to be in the office tomorrow.
Surprisingly, I took it all in stride. I don't really have anywhere I want to go, my Mom and stepfather are nearby if we really needed something and between the two boys I'm finding the days pretty busy without trying to run errands before Jake leaves for school at noon.
Then, a few hours later, while trying to navigate my way between Noah's play mat and his bouncy chair, I got my foot caught in the bottom of my yoga pants and fell headfirst into the fireplace mantle. I mean who does that? And how klutzy do you have to be to get your foot caught in the bottom of your yoga pants? Sadly this actually happens to me embarrassingly often. Though usually with less traumatic results.
Ummm, yeah.
Tuesday, 17 January, 2012
Creeping me out
Clearly Gabby is feeling woefully neglected since Noah's arrival. Typically both cats sleep most of the night, somewhere in our room or just outside the door.
Since the Baby Man's birth, Gabby has taken to sleeping between Mr. Tree and I on the bed, up by our heads. Something she's never done in all her twelve-ish years.
Over the past week though, she's not actually sleeping between us anymore. She just sits there. All night.
Awake. Sitting. And staring. At me.
Edited to add: Today she puked up a hair ball, on my side of the bed, up near my pillows. Definitely not a happy camper.
Monday, 16 January, 2012
Bits of Random
Today I'm happy to bring you a whole bunch of random bits.
Random Bit #1
Based on how quickly my socks are wearing out these days, I'm guessing that I'm on my feet too much. If only my waistline agreed.
Random Bit #2
Watching DC Cupcakes makes me crave cake. I love watching cake shows but this is the only one that makes me want to eat it in abundance. Then again, I'm out of my thyroid medication and I've noticed that when that happens, I want sugar. Cake, in particular. With icing from a can. Because I'm classy that way.
Random Bit #3
Sunday was a huge fail in the whole "have more patience" resolution thing. Coming on the heels of a couple of nights of almost no sleep, the day was doomed from the start. What frustrated me most, was that every time I was about to lose it, I was very conscious that I was making a choice to lose my temper. I felt like I could have walked away, figuratively speaking, but I didn't. I just let it fly. Epic, epic, epic fail.
Random Bit #4
I love great customer service - in fact, as many of you know, poor customer service is my biggest pet peeve. And I'm great at holding a grudge when it comes to poor service - six years ago Bell Canada really messed up big (for the third time) and I'm still sore about it. I've yet to give them a penny of my money since them, directly or indirectly. But I digress . . .
We were given a mamaRoo as a baby gift and I love it. It's not something I likely would have purchased for myself, but the design and function are very cool and Noah is certainly sold on it. Last week it started creaking a fair bit so I contacted the company that makes them - 4moms - and within hours their customer service department had replied and made arrangements to send us a replacement base at no cost to us. It arrived today and works like a charm.
Random Bit #5
The Little Man is still not sleeping through the night more than once or twice a week. He's five and a half and I don't know how much longer we can handle it. Between Noah's night feedings and occasional bouts of sleep-preventing gas, we're already up way too often. Though I feel like we've tried everything with Jake over the years, I'm open to suggestions!
We've slept in his room, slept outside his door, gone with the flow and allowed it to happen, prayed, threatened, removed privileges, co-slept, let him sleep on our floor, and so much more.
Most of the time when he gets up, it's really for not particular reason. No nightmares, no tummy aches, he's not sick or just has to pee. He's crying, but it's a fake cry, for the most part. It's as though he wakes up to pee and then wake up just enough that he's got it in his head that he can't go back to sleep without intervention. Cuddles, songs, back rubbing, etc. Help!
Speaking of not sleeping, the Baby Man is starting to wake up for his next feeding so that's all the random you get for this evening. Thanks, as always, for listening!
Friday, 13 January, 2012
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