I still
remember the phone call, the call where my daughter’s pediatrician told me she
would need open heart surgery. I don’t
know that it quite sunk in at that very moment.
Most likely, it was the sheer urgency in his voice and words that moved
me to action. He told me to strap Corrina
into her car seat and start driving to the hospital for an emergency
consultation with the pediatric cardiologist.
I was overwhelmed with the weight of the news. On top of that, I had guests over for a house
warming party. We had moved into our new
home exactly one week prior to that eventful day.
It all
started at my daughter’s one month well-baby appointment. I noticed the doctor’s face as he listened to
her heart with his stethoscope.
Initially, it was the frown and increased concentration that caused my
pulse to quicken, then the pointed questions.
The questions pertained to feeding and sweating. Did she turn blue? Did she tire easily? I felt dumb and naïve. “Well no, Doctor, I don’t think so. Maybe just a little…?” He asked if we would allow for a second
opinion. Feeling confused and suddenly
anxious, we agreed and then went through a second round of questions. After that, we were sent to another floor for
an echocardiogram of Corrina’s walnut sized heart. I remember feeling awestruck when the image
of her heart came up on the screen. I
watched with increased fascination as it rhythmically contracted and
relaxed. The technician did a great job
of making us feel comfortable. When she
sent us home to wait for the phone call, we left truly feeling like it was
going to be okay. And then came the
phone call.
When we
finally made it to the appointment with the pediatric cardiologist, the doctor
explained to us that Corrina had a congenital heart defect known as aortopulmonary
window, (AP-Window). She then explained
that it was a very rare condition but that the prognosis was good. The doctor went on to draw a diagram for us
on a piece of scratch paper. She
explained that there was a connection between Corrina’s two main blood vessels,
the aorta and the pulmonary artery. That
“window” was allowing her blood to shunt from the aorta into the pulmonary
artery, and then into her lungs at a higher pressure than what her lungs could
handle. There was concern that she would
develop pulmonary hypertension which would cause irreversible damage to her
fragile lungs. As for Corrina’s heart
itself, it was enlarged and she was declared to be in congestive heart
failure. Surgery was scheduled three
days later at the Mayo Clinic. My baby
was only one month old.
What a
whirlwind of days that went by after that.
One of the best pediatric cardio-thoracic surgeons in the country
performed the operation. While my
daughter was opened up, he also found an atrial septal defect, (ASD) which he
corrected before restarting her heart and sewing her closed. She spent six days in recovery before they
gave us the all-clear to take her home.
It was more than a little unnerving to go from seeing her tiny body
covered in tubes and monitors only days before.
There had been a nurse in her room twenty-four hours a day. How could I possibly be able to care for this
child that just went through open heart surgery? I didn’t have monitors at home to alert me
when her oxygen levels dropped too low.
What if her heart just stopped? A
million thoughts raced through my head but the doctors and nurses reassured me
that everything would be fine. And they
were right. In the end, my daughter’s
surgery was one hundred percent successful.
Today, Corrina
is five and a half years old and doing well.
The cardiologist, (with whom we used to have annual checkups) has
determined that we can now go a few years in between visits. Corrina has no limitations as to what she can
do, physically. She is spunky, active,
curious, imaginative, and loves to sing and dance. We are so proud of our little girl. She had a rough start in life but she has
more than made up for that by the compassionate, loving child that she has
become.
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