Showing posts with label hope. Show all posts
Showing posts with label hope. Show all posts

Friday, April 4, 2014

Overdue Update...

It's hard to believe that nearly 2 years have gone by since my last post here. My sincerest apologies. We've been enjoying life, which is something I couldn't have even imagined being able to do at this time 4 years ago. The truth is, Rosemary has defied the odds and is living as full of a life as any other child her age.

Having HLHS does not define her, it has become her bridge to other people, and quite frankly from theirs to mine. Her life has inspired her family, friends, teachers and community to reach out to those suffering from heart disease and congenital heart defects. Last year, she was chosen as her school's "Heart Hero" for their Jump For Heart campaign through the American Heart Association. The pictures below are from 2013. Her school has been the #1 fundraiser for this event in our county, and one of the top 100 schools in the state of Maryland. Her school, alone, raised over $20,000 last year, something she was very proud of. Bringing awareness and raising funds for pediatric heart research is one of our goals as a family and this is part of our motivation to utilize Rosie's life to benefit others.

Rosemary and her PE teacher, Letty McNulty

Rosemary sits quietly as her PE teachers educate her classmates about her heart condition and that she is one of the many reasons the AHA raises money and awareness to promote healthier hearts.

Rosemary has been doing so well since her last surgery, so we decided to skip her annual heart catheterization last year. This decision was made partly because she wasn't showing any new signs of cardiac deterioration, and currently, the only thing left to do for her is to attempt the Fontan again or talk transplant. Her cardiologist and I were in agreement that because she was doing so well, we would revisit that discussion in a year. That year has passed, and at her 6 month follow up appointment last Wednesday, it was apparent that we needed to investigate exactly where she stands.

She had the usual routine, vitals, ECG, and an echo. During her ECG, I noticed that her heart rate was in the 40's and she usually sits in the mid 70's. I made a mental note and decided not to immediately worry but asked the nurse to let her doctor know. During the echo, I saw the same. Her heart rate fluctuated from the 40's back to the 70's. So her doc decided to put her on a halter monitor for 24 hours and get some labs done. He also mentioned that it would probably be a good idea to get her cathed again and once the results were back from all of the tests, to sit down with her surgeon, the cardiologist and Drew and I to discuss how to move forward.

......How to move forward.....

The realities of what this means for our family is something that I have been ignoring for the last 3 years while Rosie has been stable. I have distracted myself through nursing school, an accomplishment that is directly attributed to Rosemary's life. Having seen the amazing care that she received that kept her alive  was the internal catalyst that has led to a double inspiration to become an RN. It has been my goal since Rosie got out of the hospital. I knew it was something I could do and I wanted to do for her. 

Our family has regained a new sense of normal since March 2010. My other two children have been involved in school and sports and it's been wonderful to attend school events with Rosie in tow. We haven't had to do to much adjusting in our lives at all really, it's been smooth sailing. Auto pilot, if you will. It's been so nice watching her ride her bike up and down the street, each year riding a little further down the hill and she always makes it back up again.

As heart parents, we can't control much of anything with regards to our kids' hearts, they tell us what they need and when they need it. Aside from that, we're at the mercy of a seemingly nebulous free fall that will catapult us into any direction at any time, leaving us to constantly worry that the first sign of any illness or distress is a signal that there is something wrong with their heart. 

I choose to process her inevitabilities by intellectualizing the information that I can make sense of through my studies. Her numbers, her symptoms, symptom management. I mostly keep myself in a safe bubble of denial, which has worked for the most part. It's like wearing a pair of those horse blinders, I only see what's in front of me. It works until I hear of one of our own HLHS'ers suffering through the same struggles that Rosie has faced, and many times much more. It reminds me, daily, of how blessed I am to look into her eyes, to see her smile, run, play, laugh, smack her brother and sister, scream in anger...to see her live. 

Her continued quality of life is at the forefront of my desires for her. And I understand that even my best intentions will not be able to provide that for her forever. But while I can, I will. I have today. WE have today. 

God has a perfect way of revealing His timing. I just received an incredibly thorough report from all of Rosemary's specialists and teachers at her school. From Psych evals to every ED eval under the sun, she's gotten it and it will be reviewed on Tuesday of next week during her IEP meeting, two days before her catheterization. Looking at all of the information we will have, the absolute, most comprehensive information on how she is doing physically, mentally, socially and emotionally...we will have it all. We have time on our side right now as well, which makes going into a meeting with her surgeon feel...as prepared as possible. He's given us 4 extra years we didn't think we'd have. We're here, she's strong, and she's still fighting. In fact, I feel like she is the best she has ever been.

I expect that because she is bigger and stronger, that she will take to the Fontan again. I hope that her little lungs can handle the pressures. This was the surgery that caused her chronic pleural effusions and a 6 month hospital stay that nearly ended her life, again and again.

Her cardiologist mentioned the name of the doc who saw Rosie in January when she visited the ED at Children's, she is also the head of the new transplant department. I swallowed that with a side of denial, hoping that we won't have to visit that reality just yet. It is seemingly inevitable, but I want to give HER heart one more chance to keep her going. Knowing that someone else's child will have to pass for mine to live is an everyday reality that I cannot escape. It's not just that thought that makes me cringe at the idea. It's the reality that she will again have to succumb to such a deteriorating condition and endure such extreme pain and suffering in order to be pushed higher on the transplant list. It's a balancing act of keeping her here and keeping her comfortable.

We very well may get the report that everything is virtually the same and that we can continue to wait as we've been until something changes. I don't know. This is the part of being a CHD parent that I've gotten rather good at. Ninety percent of the time, I don't think about the inevitabilities because they're not urgent right now. I don't waste time and energy on things that I can't do anything about. Instead, I let my everyday family life blissfully consume me, I continue to forget about it while I can. 

We waste a lot of energy on the things we cannot change, even the struggles of yesterday. Doing that takes away from the energy we need to ENJOY today. Try to be a ray of sunshine for your loved ones, sick or not. 

I will update with more information when we have it. Until then, smile, laugh, love and make someone else's day better, because you can.

This was a long one. Thanks for reading.




Sunday, July 15, 2012

Pockets of Joy



Something wonderful jarred my memory today, and I feel compelled to share it. Most of you know about Rosemary's struggles though 4 open heart surgeries. Having come out on the other side of it, I can look back and honestly say that there is quite a bit of the hardship that I don't remember. Mostly because I've learned to choose to keep it out of the front of my head and live in the present, which by the grace of God, is absolutely phenomenal right now.

 During our six month stay in the hospital two years ago, I tried to keep my friends and family posted with up to the minute texts informing them of Rosie's status. About 2 months into that six month stay, I began to get sick of my own voice in my head, wondering if I was burdening my loved ones with the constant updates. Then last night, at my cousin's graduation party, my Aunt Jackie gave me a folder with her hand written copy of all of the texts that I had sent to her. Not having read them, I took the folder and burst into tears. It wasn't until last night, right before I laid my head down to sleep, that I opened the folder and read what I had written to my family.

There were specific accounts of Rosie’s pain, multiple chest tube placements to drain fluid, my frustrations in having to live there, not being able to help her or even console her at times, missing my other 2 children, these were all mentally debilitating and felt like knives through this mother’s soul. When she would fall asleep, that’s when I would slip out of the room and find somewhere else to cry. But then a text would come in from a family member or a friend, and it would snap me back into place, give me chuckle, a chance to breathe. Sometimes it was just a feeling of needing to “perk it up” and I found the ability to brighten up Rosie’s day, make her smile, lift her spirits enough to ease her into sleep. She actually lifted my spirits and kept my head above water much more than me doing anything for her. Her smiles, her ability to fight, her resilience and desire to be here…it kept me going.

Those simple text messages recharged me enough to get back into that ring and keep fighting. Those intermittent release valves let just enough pressure out for me to make room for the good stuff. I could feel it. I know that in my darkest hours, my friends and family were praying for Rosie, for me and for my family. I know that’s when I received my pockets of joy. It came out of nowhere, recharged me and sustained me through some very dark times.

As I sat in church today listening to Rev. Keith speak about joy even within the depths of despair, I thought, "I can totally relate." Something lifts you out of the hole you fell into and you gain enough clarity to find peace, to feel joy; joy that keeps your hope alive, and refills your spirit with life again. That reconnection of my head and my heart happened multiple times during that hospital stay with Rose. It’s real. It felt like a “Joy Smack On The Forehead” if you will. I forgot just how dark things were for a while. Today, I was reminded of what it feels like to be reawakened by someone else’s thoughts and prayers for you. So today, I’m sending out my own pockets of joy and sending my thoughts and prayers to those of you who are out there living through some very dark hours in times of a loved one's failing health or anything else that's burdening you today. You’re not alone. Ever.