Ready for your close up?

This morning we had an appointment at our local Children's Hospital for Abby to have a follow-up ECG done. Our appointment check in time was 9:15 and not surprisingly at that time of the morning the waiting room was devoid of patients. Well mostly devoid. There was that one guy in the orange jumpsuit, leg shackles and hand cuffs. Oh and the two cops that were guarding him. After we had checked in we picked seats on the other side of the room and hoped to hell Abby wasn't paying too close attention. Around the same time we sat down the gentleman in the orange jumpsuit was called in for his appointment. As he was exiting the waiting area Abby opened her mouth to loudly ask, "Mom, why does that boy..." I decided it would be a good idea to stop her there, but she would not be swayed. "But Mom why does he those things on his ankles?" (Yes honey, why indeed?) Thankfully a promise of discussing it later put an end to the conversation.

Not long after our incarcerated friend vacated the waiting are we were called in for the start of Abby's appointment. The technician that was doing Abby's ECG was polite, but that was it. Just polite. I mentioned to Mike later that I would expect that someone working in a pediatric ECG lab would have more of a child appropriate bedside manner. Abby did quite well, but by the size of her eyes I could tell she was somewhat nervous about the entire procedure, from having her weight checked to the actual examination. I thought it was unfortunate that the tech didn't take the opportunity to make her feel a bit more at ease. I mean I really don't have a complaint about her. She conducted herself as a professional and was, as I mentioned, very polite, but she's clearly chosen to work with children so I guess I was a bit surprised that she didn't seem to enjoy it more. By contrast the members in the lab that we dealt with after the scan had a much more child appropriate bedside manner, talking to her and engaging her in the procedures as they were being done.

Following the scan we saw a nurse who took Abby's blood pressure and checked her o-sats. Which is done by the finger clippy thing and yes I do believe that is the technical term for it. Now Abby willingly clips my clothes pegs to her fingers and plays Edward Scissorhands, but do you think we could get her to put her finger into the clip to have her o-sats checked? What is no? After a bit of coaxing from both the nurse and I we managed to get her to straighten out a finger for the 10 second test. After the nurse we saw another tech who stuck a whack of stickers all over Abby's chest, arms and legs and recorded her heart rate. Then we saw the very cute resident working with Abby's cardiologist. He had an awesome bedside manner, good thing if you're going to be a pediatric cardiologist. He shook Abby's hand after introducing himself and spent a minute or two chatting with her about her school. He then gave her the 40 point inspection, listening to her heart from many different angles and positions. He gave us a brief outline of what his findings were and then we waited for him to confer with Abby's cardiologist. After that the room got very full, with the cardiologist, the resident and a couple of interns all because Abby was a perfect specimen.

The basic run down was this. Abby's large hole is 100% closed. It is no longer an issue. However, she still has two tiny pinprick sized holes. They cannot be heard when listening to her heart and they cannot be seen on the ECG, until you add colour. Then you can see fluid moving between the two chambers. These holes should cause her no problems and the cardiologist was surprised they hadn't yet closed. So the plan is to do nothing for the time being and do another ECG when she's 8. She will have to continue with the antibiotics prior to any surgeries or dental work (even a cleaning). We also need to watch for any unexplained fevers that last more that 4 days. If that were to happen she would need some bloodwork to make sure there was no bacteria in her bloodstream. She also has what is called an innocent murmur. Apparently it's quite common, affecting about 50% of all children. Basically when Abby is lying down you can hear a heart murmur, but it disappears when she sits up and that's what she's a perfect specimen of because hers was quite loud and distinct. So the doctor asked Abby if she minded if her team all listened to it. So Abby spent the next couple of minutes sitting up and laying down while they all took a turn listening to her heart. And she was a really great sport about the whole thing. The entire process took about 2 hours from start to finish and Abby was great the entire time.

So how do I feel about this? That's what Darlene asked me this afternoon. Well, to be honest I was a bit discouraged when I heard their findings. It was momentary because by and large it really is a non-issue day to day. At least that's how we think of it. If you've had the pleasure of meeting Abby you know she's an energetic healthy four year old. There's nothing to suggest she's has any kind of a problem. Then in the back of my mind I can't help think, but. But something could go horribly wrong. Even though the chances are less than slim that she'd ever develop bacteria in her blood there is still a chance. Of course the argument could be made that you just never know what's lurking around the corner in life and it's a waste of time to worry about what *might* happen. I have to say that usually I don't, but on a day like to day it's hard not to give it pause.

This morning while riding the elevator I suddenly noticed my stomach was tied up in anxious knots. Admittedly they were small, but they were there. Which really shouldn't have surprised me based on the history I have with this hospital and my kids. I found myself thinking of that morning we found out that Abby had a heart condition. Sitting in the NICU, staring at my 2 day old baby while I tried to process the enormity of what they were telling us. Two days after giving birth to my first child and a complicated delivery too. I wasn't quite over the whole bum-first natural delivery thing (by the way, I so don't recommend it) and we were discussing surgery in a few months time, what drugs she'd need to be on, signs of heart failure to watch for and a list of doctor's appointments as long as my arm. To say that we stared at her with the glazed looked of zombies would be an accurate description. It was a lot for brand new parents to absorb, but we made it through with a lot of help and excellent care from the entire "team". It's easy now to "forget" the beginning, to pretend it never happened. Especially when there is little about Abby today that would suggest it did. I just can't make my mind up if that's a good thing or a bad one. I don't want to be "that Mom." You know the kind I mean. That over protective, overly worried kind of Mom that annoys the hell out of everyone. I've already played that role with Maya to some extent and have annoyed myself while doing it. On the other hand I don't want to complete erase it from the family archives. I think normally I manage to strike a healthy balance between the two, but it's just today that's upset the apple cart.