Heart cath day. Head out by 8:50 a.m. to make it to UVRMC by 9:30 a.m. I tell Dale of my prayer and request and this now feels like just another step in the process that won't delay the transplant.
Need to draw a CBC and access my port to do it. I don't understand why only certain, more highly trained personnel can access a port. It's actually easier than starting an IV because the port already has the vein encapsulated. No digging or guessing required.
Someone from the 7th floor--cancer ward--is nice to come down and we have access.
Lots of hurry up and wait when you're at a hospital and today is no different. I learn that I'm actually scheduled in the cath lab from 12-2. Wow! So I'm supposed to here 2.5 hours earlier so I can just hang out. And, to make everyone else feel more comfortable even though I won't need any sedation, I get to be fasting the entire time too. Okie dokie.
We get to start a little early--at 11:30. No, I don't want sedation. Dr. Carter agrees and tells me he'd never ask for sedation for this procedure either. But I'm already rethinking that decision. I can feel way more than I ever have before. It's definitely ouchy and my blood pressure clearly shows my stress. Darn!
Plus, my lungs seems to start reacting to the contrast liquid. Suddenly, I'm wheezing and my O2 level drops. IV medications and I'm awarded my very own nasal cannula for oxygen. Things look better until it's time to pull everything out and close.
It seems there's a nerve that runs along the artery we accessed, and the tech admits they must have nicked it because there are tears spontaneously running out of my eyes. This hurts! But there's no offer of sedation now. We're too close to the end, so grimace and bear it, Trish. This is a rare occurrence that just had to happen today. And my lungs aren't fully cooperating either. It's getting harder to breathe and the table starts violently spinning even though I'm laying perfectly flat. I don't like this. We're finally done after 15 minutes of strong, direct pressure right where it hurts and the pressure is causing even more pain.
The good news though. My aortic valve looks great--just slightly under normal. No heart valve transplant necessary. Dale looks at me and says "Your prayers were answered." I'm in pain and struggling to breathe, but he's absolutely right. I immediately burst into tears at the knowledge of a loving Heavenly Father answering my timid request.
Time to lay still in my room for three more hours while the site has a chance to form a strong clot that won't hemorrhage later. Yay! I can finally get up and move around.
The plan is to discharge me between 5 and 6 p.m. and the papers are already drawn up when my lungs decide they won't cooperate. Crud! The doctor wants me to stay the night? Really? When we didn't do any kind of heart interventions but take some measurements? I talk him into letting me go home and start getting dressed. Just putting on two articles of clothing, with Dale doing most of the work, drops my O2 level and makes me feel extremely dizzy. What's the right decision to make?
Time to involve Heavenly Father again. See, I can be taught :-) What's the right decision to make? I want to go home. We have a visitors coming over at 7:00 that we've never had before, and I want to participate in that visit. I reveal all of my reasons for wanting to go home and then realize, abruptly, that my reasons aren't good enough. There's more of risk than it's worth if I go home early.
What's even more miraculous is that I'm okay with staying. I can easily trade no valve transplant for one night in the hospital. Maybe this is a trial run for the four weeks of hospitalization that are coming.
I don't even need Dale to stay. I'm perfectly okay and want him to leave so he can meet our visitors. He gets to go home, and I get to catch up with these entries. It's all okay and someone much wiser than me is fully in charge. Thank you!
And, hopefully, we'll still get to proceed with the bone marrow transplant sometime next week. That's what I'm praying for now.
Purple Everywhere
Daily Herald picture
Tuesday, August 9, 2011
Monday, August 8, 2011
One of the things Dale and I discussed on our ride to and from St. George is how conflicted I feel between trying to maintain some balance in my present state in life.
How do I juggle working when I don't feel my best and yet being productive, helping the kids accomplish what they need to, letting Dale know how much I appreciate his support and working to let him know how much I love him, serving others, and taking care of myself? It's a question that I know many people struggle with, but the ante seems greatly amped for me lately.
I sometimes identify with Peter very well. I know I have one of those addictive personalities. I would never drink alcohol because I'd probably be instantly addicted. I think I was a spirit in the pre-existence who thought, "Go ahead and send me to earth. I'll be so good. I'll do everything you ask, and I'll work so hard. Nothing will derail me." Remind you of anyone jumping into a stormy sea and then slowly sinking?
Dale is so good for me and my general impatience and almost over-zealousness. He is a great complement, and gently points out that maybe I've shortsighting one of the important areas of my life: my team at work. I am their manager and need to ensure that they have everything they need to succeed, whether I'm at work or not.
He's absolutely right. I am feeling more strength and energy as we get further from chemo, so I head to work for a full day today. It's such a great day. I get so much done and feel a natural high from being so productive. It's something I crave--to put in a good day's effort and accomplish high-quality work. Yay!
I also call Dr. Wendy's office to see if I can reschedule our appointment for tomorrow. Conflict solved! She doesn't even need to meet with me because the PET scan was so favorable. No more ICE chemo and no more appointments with her until after the bone marrow transplant.
How do I juggle working when I don't feel my best and yet being productive, helping the kids accomplish what they need to, letting Dale know how much I appreciate his support and working to let him know how much I love him, serving others, and taking care of myself? It's a question that I know many people struggle with, but the ante seems greatly amped for me lately.
I sometimes identify with Peter very well. I know I have one of those addictive personalities. I would never drink alcohol because I'd probably be instantly addicted. I think I was a spirit in the pre-existence who thought, "Go ahead and send me to earth. I'll be so good. I'll do everything you ask, and I'll work so hard. Nothing will derail me." Remind you of anyone jumping into a stormy sea and then slowly sinking?
Dale is so good for me and my general impatience and almost over-zealousness. He is a great complement, and gently points out that maybe I've shortsighting one of the important areas of my life: my team at work. I am their manager and need to ensure that they have everything they need to succeed, whether I'm at work or not.
He's absolutely right. I am feeling more strength and energy as we get further from chemo, so I head to work for a full day today. It's such a great day. I get so much done and feel a natural high from being so productive. It's something I crave--to put in a good day's effort and accomplish high-quality work. Yay!
I also call Dr. Wendy's office to see if I can reschedule our appointment for tomorrow. Conflict solved! She doesn't even need to meet with me because the PET scan was so favorable. No more ICE chemo and no more appointments with her until after the bone marrow transplant.
Sunday, August 7, 2011
Dale and I have a great visit in St. Gerorge, attend Fast and Testimony Meeting, and listen to the testimony of one dear sister whose family has been in our home and who recently lost her teenage son (age 17 and one of my two nephews' best friends).
Nolan laid down on the couch to watch a movie with his younger brother. When the movie was over, Austin couldn't wake him. He was gone just like that.
Thank you for the reminder of Heavenly Father's great plan and that we can still have joy and find peace even while experiencing almost unconceivable heartaches and losses. With my limited foresight, I wish I could prevent parents from ever having to bury one of their children. Good thing I'm not in charge!
Nolan laid down on the couch to watch a movie with his younger brother. When the movie was over, Austin couldn't wake him. He was gone just like that.
Thank you for the reminder of Heavenly Father's great plan and that we can still have joy and find peace even while experiencing almost unconceivable heartaches and losses. With my limited foresight, I wish I could prevent parents from ever having to bury one of their children. Good thing I'm not in charge!
Saturday, August 6, 2011
Head to the AF hospital at 8:00 a.m. for a CBC blood draw so they have time to send the results to LDS Hospital to see if I need a transfusion today.
Dale's driving, so I volunteer the two best places to park. We can either sneak through the north side of the ER to head to admitting and then down to the lab and almost straight out to the car. Or, we can walk through the front door to hit admitting first, then the lab and make a complete circle out to the car.
I start joking with Dale. You might have a serious medical problem if. . .
* You can accurately map out your local hospital, to scale, and know where each different department is located.
* You can accurately map more than one hospital.
* You know all of the shortcuts between the different departments at your local hospitals.
* You can read medical test result reports and understand what they mean.
* You are on a first-name basis with your doctor.
* You are on a first-name basis with more than one doctor.
* You have more than one doctor's phone number on speed dial.
* You've been given more than one doctor's personal cell phone number.
* You know your best vein to access for blood draws AND what size needle to suggest.
* Your personal medical bills will raise the premiums for your entire company next year.
Anyway, I'm probably slightly crazy for thinking these are so hilarious!
The test results are back by 9:30 this morning. While they are still low, they are trending up so no transfusions today.
Dale and I realize that this might be the last weekend we have for several months to escape together and get out of town, so, somewhat spontaneously, we arrange to surprise my sister and greatest-only-to-Dale-support-source with a quick visit to St. George.
Thanks to Amy agreeing to cover the organ tomorrow, we have lots of time to talk on the ride down. I almost have a small panic attack as I realize what a heart tranplant could entail. I've learned by now that "What if" questions are usually not a good path for me to head down. Got to stop this train of thought. What could we do instead?
Got it, Heavenly Father. Of course, let me involve you. Someone really wise lately counseled that we should pray for what we want and then ask for Heavenly Father's will to be done. (Thanks, Dan. That lesson has obviously stuck with me, and I'm not sure I would have been comfortable putting that plan in action before that lesson.) It's exactly what Christ did in the Garden of Gethsemane. I know that, but I've never felt quite at ease asking for my life to be made easier in some things. Comfort, peace, strength, courage--sure! I can ask for those. But removing trials or eliminating them somewhat--not so sure about that. Of course, Christ can ask. He's perfect. He would never ask for things His Father didn't agree with. I don't have that kind of confidence for my requests. But let me try it.
Heavenly Father, please, please heal my aortic valve--at least temporarily. I know thou can heal it. I know thou can postpone the heart valve surgery. I know thou loves me and wants only the best for me. I'm just not sure what that best is because my foresight is so miniscule compared to thine. I would love to be able to deal with one transplant at a time, so I can heal from cancer before dealing with the next challenge. I ask these things according to thy will and thy plan. And please bless me to have the courage and strength and peace to accept whatever that plan is.
I feel better even though I don't really know what's going to happen, but I decide to plant that small seed of faith and proceed as if the heart cath will prove that it was just a bad echo and my valve is fine. Help mine unbelief!
Dale's driving, so I volunteer the two best places to park. We can either sneak through the north side of the ER to head to admitting and then down to the lab and almost straight out to the car. Or, we can walk through the front door to hit admitting first, then the lab and make a complete circle out to the car.
I start joking with Dale. You might have a serious medical problem if. . .
* You can accurately map out your local hospital, to scale, and know where each different department is located.
* You can accurately map more than one hospital.
* You know all of the shortcuts between the different departments at your local hospitals.
* You can read medical test result reports and understand what they mean.
* You are on a first-name basis with your doctor.
* You are on a first-name basis with more than one doctor.
* You have more than one doctor's phone number on speed dial.
* You've been given more than one doctor's personal cell phone number.
* You know your best vein to access for blood draws AND what size needle to suggest.
* Your personal medical bills will raise the premiums for your entire company next year.
Anyway, I'm probably slightly crazy for thinking these are so hilarious!
The test results are back by 9:30 this morning. While they are still low, they are trending up so no transfusions today.
Dale and I realize that this might be the last weekend we have for several months to escape together and get out of town, so, somewhat spontaneously, we arrange to surprise my sister and greatest-only-to-Dale-support-source with a quick visit to St. George.
Thanks to Amy agreeing to cover the organ tomorrow, we have lots of time to talk on the ride down. I almost have a small panic attack as I realize what a heart tranplant could entail. I've learned by now that "What if" questions are usually not a good path for me to head down. Got to stop this train of thought. What could we do instead?
Got it, Heavenly Father. Of course, let me involve you. Someone really wise lately counseled that we should pray for what we want and then ask for Heavenly Father's will to be done. (Thanks, Dan. That lesson has obviously stuck with me, and I'm not sure I would have been comfortable putting that plan in action before that lesson.) It's exactly what Christ did in the Garden of Gethsemane. I know that, but I've never felt quite at ease asking for my life to be made easier in some things. Comfort, peace, strength, courage--sure! I can ask for those. But removing trials or eliminating them somewhat--not so sure about that. Of course, Christ can ask. He's perfect. He would never ask for things His Father didn't agree with. I don't have that kind of confidence for my requests. But let me try it.
Heavenly Father, please, please heal my aortic valve--at least temporarily. I know thou can heal it. I know thou can postpone the heart valve surgery. I know thou loves me and wants only the best for me. I'm just not sure what that best is because my foresight is so miniscule compared to thine. I would love to be able to deal with one transplant at a time, so I can heal from cancer before dealing with the next challenge. I ask these things according to thy will and thy plan. And please bless me to have the courage and strength and peace to accept whatever that plan is.
I feel better even though I don't really know what's going to happen, but I decide to plant that small seed of faith and proceed as if the heart cath will prove that it was just a bad echo and my valve is fine. Help mine unbelief!
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