Medical Adventures with Miss Banana: Trust My Instincts

I would think that by now I would be one of those bad-arse mothers that could tell lousy doctors where to go, but alas, I am not.

I'm getting better, but sometimes I still find myself deferring to some M.D.'s opinion when really, I should just trust my own instincts.

Over the past week, I got that lesson in yet another Medical Adventure with my little Miss B.

On March 23rd, Miss B fell down a step?  off a chair and down a step??  and hurt her foot.  No one is quite sure what happened.  My sister was watching my kids for the weekend and because nothing seemed swollen or bruised, we just let Miss B keep doing her thang.  The next night when Dr. C and I went to pick up the kids, Miss B still wouldn't put a lot of weight on her right foot, but still no swelling or bruising anywhere.

Sunday morning, I became more concerned because she didn't want to walk on it.  I took her into Urgent Care, where the doctor looked at her for 3 seconds and proclaimed that she had simply "overstretched the tendons" and that x-rays were completely unnecessary.  I explained to him that Miss B had a very high pain threshold, and wouldn't it be better to x-ray it just to be sure? 

"No.  Just give her a few days and she'll be fine."

I left the office feeling a bit unsettled and questioning my judgement--was I just being overanxious?

By Tuesday, Miss B was STILL complaining that it hurt and would only walk on the outside of her foot.  So I took her into the pediatrician (LOVE her!) who immediately said we needed to x-ray. 

Ten minutes later, a definitive. 

Miss B's first metatarsal was fractured.

Um, would have been nice to know that on Sunday.  Let's just say I'll never go back to THAT urgent care.

Our pediatrician set up an appointment with a pediatric orthopedic specialist, the soonest we could get in was Thursday morning at 7:45--before school and while Dr. C was traveling--which meant I had to take all three kiddos with me. 

Yay.

After trying to corral all three of them in a tiny room ("Stay out of the red trashcan!!  See that "bio hazard" sign?!  It means it's not safe!"  and "No, you may not jump from the bed to the spin-y stool, you will break your arm!")  I was already a bit frazzled.  The doctor came in and was no help.

His first statement to me was that Miss B's SureStep SMO's (which I think have done wonders for her ankle stability) were pointless and that the only reason to have them was to make me feel better and so that some brace company got money. 

Uh-huh.

Hey doc, I've lost all respect for you already, and we haven't even talked about why we're here.  This probably isn't going to be a good visit.  Just sayin'.

He then went on to tell me that, "there was no point in casting Miss B's foot because she is going to have problems anyway."  and "it would take four people to hold her down to get the cast on, so it's not really worth it" and "it's already been broken for a week and she's gotten around fine, let's just give it a few more weeks and see what happens."

The way he presented it to me, it sounded like he didn't want to cast her foot simply because it would be inconvenient.  To me, that is unacceptable.

So I went home, wondering what the h*** was wrong with doctors this week, called the pediatrician and got a referral to another pediatric ortho specialist the next day.

After having a day to get over my irritation at the first guy, I was much calmer by the time we got to that appointment.  And the 2nd doctor actually listened to me.  (Hooray!!)  He agreed that her foot did not need a cast, but thankfully he explained his opinion by describing why it was not medically necessary and how it could even be harmful to her. 

AND he said he was happy to see her in her SMOs.

And so I chalk this whole much-ado-about-little experience as another trust-my-gut lesson learned.  If I think that something is wrong with my daughter, I need to trust that feeling and not let a doctor blow me off. And if I don't get answers that make sense, I have to push to get real answers from a different doctor. 

It's up to me to make sure Miss B is being taken care of by the medical community the way she needs.

Lesson learned.

And, just because having a broken foot seems to have not slowed my little lady down much, I leave you with some pictures of her--loving life as always.

Medical Adventures with Miss Banana: Leukemia?

I have received two phone calls in my life that are so deeply impressed in my brain that I will never forget them.  The first came when we received the news that Miss B might have Down syndrome. 

The second came on Monday.

Last week, I took Miss Banana into the new Dr. Kids--a lovely, open woman who I think is a good fit for us--to do the physical exam required by Miss B's new preschool.  Because of insurance rules, Dr. Kids decided to do Miss B's 3-year CBC (complete blood count) check that day.

Other than feeling guilty about holding Miss B down while strangers came and poked her and took her blood, I didn't think much about it.

And then Dr. Kids called Monday afternoon.

Monday was a lovely day here in the Midwest...60+ degrees, sunny, light breeze...absolutely pleasant.  I needed that.

The kids and I had been playing outside, enjoying the fabulous weather; I ran in to check the time and saw that I had a message.

"Carrie--we got Miss B's CBC results back, and I showed them to the hematologist.  Will you call me when you get this?"

As a parent of a child with Down syndrome, I knew what this type of phone call could mean.  And it's not good.

I braced myself and called her back.

She chatted pleasantly for a bit (Why do doctors DO that??! We both know we wouldn't be chatting under normal circumstances;  just rip off the band-aid and get it over with!), then came the real reason for the call.

Dr. Kids: Do you know why we routinely check the CBC of kids with Down syndrome?
Me: Yes.  Leukemia.
Dr. Kids: I got Miss B's CBC back, and her lymphocyte numbers are a little wonky. (Yes, she did use the word "wonky".  That's why she gets paid the big bucks.)  I showed the results to the hematologist who said there is no reason to worry now (!!!!!), but we need to keep a closer eye on it and we will check it again in 6 months.

I then asked a few questions, she gave a few answers and ended with:  You don't need to worry; I'm not staying awake at night worrying about Miss B.  I thanked her politely, ended the conversation.
And then...

Emotional panic!!

That phone call might as well have been a python squeezing the air out of me; suffocating me with the weight of horrible possibilities.

Breathe.

Breathe.

OF COURSE I'm going to worry about this!!  How could I not?!?  I already  worried about Miss B getting the L-word; the idea kept me awake at night even when her CBCs came back fine.

And now?  I have six months to prepare myself for my baby having cancer. 

Six months of wondering if my little love's cells are killing her from the inside out.

I hope and pray that it is nothing.  Just a blip on Miss B's long list of medical adventures.

PLEASE! Let it be nothing!

Breathe.

Just breathe.

Avoidance Blogging. Alternate Title: The Moving Month

Some of you may have wondered what happened to your Midwest-girl-turning-Southern-belle over the past month. 

Well, I'll tell you.

I've gone back to being just a straight-up Midwest-girl. 

More on that in a bit.

In the meantime, I should let you know that I've been practicing a form of blogging that I like to call "Avoidance Blogging".  Let me explain.  Usually, blogging is some sort of therapeutic activity...a place to jot down thoughts,  record events, a platform to promote ideas and discussion. 

In Avoidance Blogging, you don't do any of that. Instead, you simply own a blog, and don't write on it.  Easy-peasy, huh?

I guess I should clarify though--Avoidance Blogging isn't simply forgetting to blog--it's much more involved than that.  In Avoidance Blogging, you think about your blog and you may even mentally compose several posts. And almost daily something happens that makes you think you really should be posting about this or that.

But, unfortunately, there are SO MANY of those things running through your head and so many different things occurring in your life, that you completely avoid your blog (hence the name) in hopes that things will settle themselves back into nice neat little happy posts with out any record of the chaos in between.

Avoidance Blogging.  If you haven't already tried it, you probably will.

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Now that we are settling into some type of normalcy and the upheaval of our lives and emotions has finally subsided, I am leaving my stint as an Avoidance Blogger.   Instead, I will condense the past Moving Month into one, devoid-of-emotional-angst post--complete with an almost daily breakdown of what has been happening and a smattering of pictures.

Here we go.

The Moving Month:
Dec. 1--Our First home is officially back on the market.

Dec. 2--Our friends-that-are-family have a going away party for us.  During which, I fail to take any pictures because somehow it would have made the fact that we were leaving seem more real.

Dec. 3-17th--Dr. C leaves for Iowa, leaving me alone with our three-children and a house that has to be constantly kept "show-ready".  We have various showings during this time, but no offers.

Dec. 5th--Dr. C starts his new job.

Dec. 9th--Church Christmas party and sitting on Santa's lap.

Miss B was not a fan of the guy in the red suit.

Dec.17th--Dr. C flies back to Memphis.  The kids and I drive the 3 hours to pick him up.  After six hours in the car, when we return home, we spend 3 hours moving everything out of the attic down to the garage and bringing everything in our storage unit back to our house for the movers.  (P.S. A big thanks to our friends-that-are-family for watching the kiddos and helping us move all of our junk belongings.)

Dec. 14th, 15th, 19th--Miss B's last days with our Kids Therapy Spot/Early Intervention family.

Miss B with her first boyfriend.

Miss B's Occupational Therapist and Speech Therapist

Miss B's Speech Therapist

Miss B's Physical Therapist

Miss B's Service Coordinator



Dec. 18th--Our last Sunday with our church family in The South.

Dec. 19th--The movers arrive and start packing up all of our things.  Miss B's amazing school, The T.K. Martin Center, holds their annual Christmas party and Miss B attends for the first and last time.

Miss B's lovely teacher.

Dec. 20th--The movers finish packing up and all of our belongings and head back to the Midwest.

Dec. 21st--The boys have a half-day of school; their last day at Sudduth Elementary.  Some people come and look at our house while we are doing our final cleaning and loading up the van to overflowing.  We leave our Southern Home and head to St. Louis for Christmas.

Dec. 24th--Christmas Eve.  Complete with the annual Clam Chowder & bread sticks dinner.

T-Man making a funny face.

Dr. C wearing the crown from his popper thingy.

After dinner, we spend the evening by the fireside, and read the Christmas story.  A perfectly lovely Christmas Eve.

Dec. 25th--Christmas Day.  We wake up, open our stockings, stop, eat breakfast, go to church, come home, eat lunch, and don't even start opening presents until 4PM.  And my kids are okay with it.  Miss B had started feeling bad on Friday and by Sunday morning, she is looking pretty sickly.  She still perks up enough to open presents.

Miss B loves this FurReal cat thing.  The rest of us think it is a slightly possessed toy that really should have an on/off switch.  It is currently residing in a corner of the basement, facing the wall.  Please don't tell Miss B where it is.

T-Man, the Bounty Hunter

Miss B signing "help" as in "GET THIS DOLL OUT OF THE BOX FOR ME, NOW!"

Dec. 26th--Dr. C leaves St. Louis for Iowa to meet our moving truck.  He is unable to return until Thursday night.  Miss B wakes up feeling worse.  We go out to lunch with my very good friend E.Lee who I hadn't seen in over a year. 

That night, Miss B takes a turn for the worse, and a new adventure begins.  We start at the Urgent Care center, they give her a breathing treatment but think she is too sick for them to handle.  We are then sent to the ER.  The ER spends 5 hours giving her meds (which she promptly spits back out), lots of tests, 2 breathing treatments, and then decides she is too sick for them to handle.  After a lovely ambulance ride, we end up at St. Louis Children's Hospital and a definitive diagnosis of RSV and bronchiolitis.

We are there for a week.



Miss B staying with us is touch-and-go for a couple of days there.  She spends some time in the PICU and her IV faithfully pumps her little body full of fluids and steroids and eventually antibiotics.

(Have I ever mentioned how thankful I am for modern medicine???  My little lady would not be with us today without it.

On the flip side though--those high-tech monitors with all of their wavy lines and different beeps could very likely drive a parent insane.  Any parent who has spent some time in the hospital with a child knows what I'm talking about.

There's the beep.        beep.       beep.--the one that means something is up, but you just have to hit the silence button and keep an eye on it.

Then there's the higher-pitched, faster-- Beep! Beep! Beep!--which means it's time to call the nurse.

And then lastly, the panic-invoking, fear-inducing--BEEP!!!BEEP!!!BEEP!!!--that means it's time for you to run into the hallway and scream for someone to get there RIGHT NOW, #$&*  IT, AND TAKE CARE OF MY BABY!!!

I hate the beeps.

Just sayin'.)

Dec. 31st--Miss B's very nice doctor brings us a bottle of sparkling grape juice for the evening.  Dr. C and I toast the New Year with styrofoam cups at 8PM. Then Dr. C leaves and spends the rest of the evening at my parents' house with the boys so they would have at least one parent for the holiday celebration.  I spend the evening watching The Big Bang Theory marathon on some random channel. 

Most unusual New Year's Eve ever.

 Jan. 1st--Miss B finally busts out of the hospital on New Year's Day--my 30th birthday--and we load up the van and make the rest of the journey to our new home in Iowa.  Probably my most unusual birthday ever as well.

Jan. 2nd-Unpacking and settling in begins.

Jan. 3rd--Dr. C heads back to work; I get the boys registered for their new school.  That night, we head to our first Iowa caucus where we hand-write our ballots and turn them by placing them in a plastic sack.  Afterward, we check out the Mitt Romney Caucus Night party.

The press area--holy cow, there were a lot of cameras.  Not to mention all the wandering camera people.  Wowzas.

 The kids and I only stay for a few minutes (it wasn't exactly a kid-friendly event).  Dr. C takes us home and then goes back for the speech.  Definitely a unique experience.

Jan. 5th--T-Man and Fearless are supposed to start school, but pick up a nasty stomach bug instead.  I'm still not sure that it wasn't at least partly psychosomatic, but due to the fact that there was actual throwing up involved, the first day of new school is delayed.

Jan. 7th--In need of furniture for our new house that has a completely different floor plan from our old house; we drive the two hours to Omaha to the Nebraska Furniture Mart.  We returned victorious with a new sectional precariously tied to Dr. C's truck.

Jan. 8th--Our first Sunday in our new ward.  Everyone was perfectly welcoming--some new friends invited us to dinner that evening and we had a lovely time.

And finally--if you've made it this far--Jan. 9th--T-Man and Fearless started their new school.  T-Man loved it, Fearless is not sure yet.  I'm crossing my fingers that he will love it soon.

No, he didn't take the sword to school.

And that my friends, wraps up the recap of The Moving Month. 
Here's hoping I don't need to practice Avoidance Blogging again anytime soon.

Matters of the Heart

Two years ago today, I kissed the top of Miss B's head, and handed her to a smiling nurse, and sent her off to open heart surgery. 

In that moment, I couldn't envision our future.  There were so many unknowns, so many fears and worries that when I tried to picture what would happen next, I just came up blank.  The rest of my life hung on the outcome of that surgery.

Look!  Hair long enough for a braid!

Dr. HeartSurgeon did a fabulous job.  He fixed Miss B's heart.  He gave her an opportunity at life.  And now, two years later, our life is vibrant and full and Miss B is quite the little character.  Thanks to him, I can envision our future.



 



That surgery was like hitting the Reset button.  Before her heart repair, we had fear and worry.  After surgery?  All that stressful-fogginess was washed away and we were filled with hope.

 With Miss Banana's new, healthy heart, she moved past surviving, and began to thrive. 

And that is the way life is supposed to be lived.

 Thank you, Dr. HeartSurgeon, for giving Miss B the opportunity to live life to the fullest.  I will never be able to fully express how how grateful I am that you saved my daughter's life.

And to Miss Banana:

Happy HeartDay, my little love!  Thank you for fighting hard to stay alive and enrich our lives.
May God continue to bless your little heart!