DECANULATION!!!!!
I think it's actually happening this time. Sam is scheduled to get decanulated (get his trach out permanently) on March 22nd!!!!!! We’ve been told Sam will be decanulated in the Spring many times, but they have never scheduled a date. Someone pinch me. It feels real this time.
Although Sam's had a rough almost month now, we had a really good run and we avoided a hospitalization. This is a big deal for Sam. His doctors wanted him to be able to be successful (stay healthyish) in school for a couple of months before they gave the a-okay to be decanulated. I hate to say this out loud, but before now, Sam had never gone more than four months in his whole little life without a hospitalization. He's seven. Do the math. We are now going on eight months! Okay, now knock on wood everyone.
I know I’ve said it before, but one of the hardest parts of having a special needs child who is also medically complex is he can’t tell us what’s wrong. It becomes a guessing game fairly quickly along with consulting with many different specialties, bloodwork, stool samples, x-rays, urinalysis’, etc. Thank you Lord for home care nursing.
He's on day two of being back in school since before the holiday break. Hoping he can stay healthy and continue to stay in school until the big day.
We are ecstatic and terrified for Sam to get his trach out permanently. It’s sounds a bit crazy, but you get used to having a lifesaving breathing tube after seven years. In our world, it's a safe airway. I watched Sam die four times with one of those times needing more than ten minutes of chest compressions. He is alive because of his safe airway. I think this helps in understanding our fears of having his trach (safe airway) removed permanently.
What does this mean though?! It’s literally life changing for us and Sam. It means…
…Sam can swim.
…we don’t have to get terrified every time Sam takes a bath or is around any kind of water.
…I can drive in a car with him by myself.
…he can go to school if he doesn’t have a nurse.
...he won't have home care nursing, which is exciting, scary, and sad all in one. These strangers become some of your best friends.
...traveling hopefully won't be as much work.
...we don't have to do daily trach cares.
There are so many more reasons, but you get the point.
For us, swimming is at the top of our list and I know it will be at the top of Sam's too. Sam LOVES the water. We joke that every time we give him a bath, he tries to kill himself, quite literally. His new thing is to try to lay down in the tub. When he realizes I'm holding his arm a bit tighter, moving quickly to pull him up and away from water, and clearly anxious, he laughs and does it more. Okay, bath time is over now. I can't imagine giving him a bath and not having one hand on his arm the entire bath time and not feeling nervous the whole time. Swimming lessons will definitely be in his future. Is there swimming in the Special Olympics?!
As always, we hold high hopes and low expectations for March 22nd. He will go under anesthesia for the umpteenth time and his ENT will check for a third time to make sure his Laryngeal Cleft is still intact, meaning the surgery he had in Cincinnati worked and there is no hole in his airway. If that's the case, which it will be, his ENT assured me I would get to do the honors of taking out his trach. I have done this a thousand times, but have always quickly put a new one in. This time, I won't.
We will stay one night in the Pediatric Intensive Care Unit and go home the next day if all goes well, which it will.
It’s been a bit since my last update. No news is good news, right? Here are a few things we’ve done since August.
Best thing we ever did.
MN State Fair
Trying to get Sam to look when we're taking a picture is a very tall order. ; )
Love getting to watch Abby play. Thanks for the pics Beth.
Got to take these two girls to the Lumineers concert. Abby's birthday present from April.
Where does the time go? Abby (Sophomore), Will (Junior)
Love getting to watch Will play.
Touchdown!
Thanks again for the pics Beth.
God made this dog just for our family.
Fall fun.
I think Will & Abby are having fun too.
Here's what happens when there is no nurse and mom wants a few more minutes of sleep. Clothes are off and his trach is out. At least his feeding tube is still in.
Apple orchard fun!
We got him to look at the camera!
Halloween
Roar!
We almost got him to look!
BF's
Taking some tastes. Nice job Sam!
Crayola Experience
I think Hank is hugging Sam.
Annual cooking making day was a success.
He wouldn't look at Santa, but as you can see he has a huge smile on his face.
Happy 17th birthday Will!
As always Sam Strong and Faith Over Fear!
Loving Summer
Overall, Sam is doing really well. He’s been rid of the PICC line since June! His g-tube feedings are running eighteen hours a day, which is kind of a bummer, BUT way better than having a PICC line.
He’s been happy and healthy. Healthy.
Summer is usually good to Sam. He generally stays out of the hospital and virus free. We love summer. He loves summer.
Dancing with my buddy, Hank.
Yep, that is a frog you see.
I don’t eat, but I love tasting ice cream!
We have had two doctors tell us, in order for Sam to get his trach (breathing tube) out, he needs to be successful in school for a couple of months. For them, that means stay out of the hospital and off all the hard core treatments when he does get sick. You’ve got this buddy!
I don't like getting poked so much.
Stay cool.
He recently had his lab appointment for his new specialty, endocrinology. The poor kid has so much PTSD. He knows as soon as we go through the double doors something bad is going to happen. He did great though. After the poke, he was fine. They drew labs every 15 minutes for an hour. Results will take a couple weeks. As always, we will patiently wait and hope for whatever is best for Sam.
For now, we will continue to enjoy what we have left of this good, busy, beautiful summer. And pray he can start school and stay in school.
Sam Strong
Faith Over Fear
Home
It took two attempts to clear Sam’s PICC line, but they were able to do it. Thank you Lord.
We were able to come home today as planned! I packed for a week and mentally prepared for longer. It feels so good to be home. Fortunately and unfortunately we were able to leave sooner because Sam is on TPN and has his PICC line.
We will give his tummy time to heal and then the real test begins. When we get the okay, we will start feeds very slowly through his g-tube (feeding tube). He is going to tolerate feeds and the PICC line will be a thing of the past.
Sam Strong
Faith Over Fear
High Hopes, Low Expectations
When it comes to certain things in life, I think it’s okay to have high hopes and low expectations. In my opinion, high hopes with high expectations, only leads to disappointment.
I generally try live by this motto, but recently I did not.
Sam was supposed to start school today. He hasn’t been in school since October. I think I was looking forward to him starting school the most. When he came down with what we think is a stomach bug yesterday, I was selfishly pretty bummed. When I shared my feelings with Sam’s dietitian, her response was,
Not selfish in my mind. You want this for Sam and it was also going to be a break for you.
She was right. Clearly in this situation, my hopes and expectations were high. Give yourself grace.
We’re still home and hoping to keep it that way. Although, we are very done with this PICC line, it might just be the thing that keeps Sam from a hospital stay.
Before he started feeling sick, he was on track to be done with the TPN (food/nutrition through his bloodstream) by the end of April, which would mean no more PICC line. His g-tube feedings have been going really well. We are hoping this doesn't set him too far back and also know he likes to throw curveballs in the mix sometimes.
The prayer is that this is a stomach bug and not an intolerance to his feedings. As a of now, we are confident he has a stomach bug and hopefully he’ll kick it quickly.
On another note, we were able to take a trip few weeks ago. If you remember from our last trip, we had some memories to last a lifetime. On our way home, our flight was canceled. We weren’t able to get on another flight home until the next day. From that, we were each given vouchers from the airline. Abby had a soccer tournament in Florida so we thought we would use those vouchers and try our luck at another trip.
I say trip because when you are traveling with young kids or someone with special needs, it's a trip, not a vacation. ; ) Although it was another eventful trip, we had a fabulous time.
Here’s a very short version.
On the way there, our flight was delayed two hours, Sam peed through his sweatpants. We had to leave his wet shirt on because he was still hooked up to his PICC line. He pooped right before we boarded the plane, which held the plane up a little longer. Thankfully, we hadn’t boarded yet. He threw his suction machine (basically his lifeline) into the ocean. Red tide hit our beaches, but we had two fabulous days on the beach. Abby sprained her ankle in her second game. Our flight home was delayed an hour and then we sat on the runway for almost another hour. When we got home, we were locked out of our house.
BUT what we remember was absolutely perfect weather and a wonderful time with family and friends. We kept our hopes high and our expectations low. We had some bumps along the way, but we expected some of those and rolled with the punches.
Sam might not be the easiest guy to travel with, let alone leave the house with, but we want him to have the best quality of life and we have chosen to do what we can to give him that and not hold our other kids back despite his complexities.
Ready to fly!
Trached kid playing is the sand. Sand in the airway, not good. Shhh...
Prayers Sam can kick this stomach bug quickly and go back to school where he makes people better!
Oh, and Happiest World Down Syndrome Day!
Sam Strong
Faith Over Fear
Feeds Update
Sam’s g-tube (feeding tube) feedings are going really well. He’s tolerating the small amounts we are giving him. To put it in perspective, we are slowly giving him about a med cup and a half three times a day. The mixture consists of puréed green beans, infant oatmeal, and his specialized formula. Yum.
We were very excited to finally be able to start the diet Cincinnati Children’s had told us about last May. It’s a diet they came up with for gaggy/retchy kids who don’t eat by mouth. This is Sam to a tee.
Sam’s dietitian (who is the best) has put a lot of work into figuring out this whole thing after collaborating with a Cincinnati dietician only a few times. Everyone here is excited to try it and see the results.
There are many reasons for us to hope he tolerates his feedings, but obviously, we ultimately want to avoid another surgery.
Because we are going so slow with his feeds, it will be a while before we can get rid of the PICC line. As I’ve told you in the past, bathing Sam is a two person job and downright scary. Sam LOVES the water and is constantly trying to drown himself, literally. With the trach, he can’t be fully submerged in water, but because he has no idea the consequence is deadly, he continues to try. With that in mind, washing his hair has become an art for us. Now, add a PICC line on his arm that can’t get wet. Hmmm…
Before last week, Sam hadn’t had a real bath since November. Yes, you heard me right, that’s over two months ago. For all you mamas out there who feel guilty your little ones have gone too long without a bath, don’t. Sponge baths can only go on for so long though.
Bath time with a trach, PICC line, and a feeding tube. We did it.
Hmmm…what can I do next?
HALT.
All that writing was before we ended up in the dreaded Children’s emergency department (ED). Sam’s skin at his PICC site was looking fabulous. Last week, we noticed some irritation. As the week wore on, it didn’t get better. Bummer.
After we sent another picture of Sam’s arm to his infusion nurse, she called right away, “I’m so sorry, but I think you need to take him in.” Exactly what you want to hear on a Friday at 4:00. He had zero symptoms so it felt very odd taking a happy little boy to the ED. In a weird way, it felt good to have the folks in the ED see what Sam is like when he’s himself. When we bring Sam to the ED, it’s because we have exhausted all of our home treatments and he’s miserable.
As a medical mama, you miss a lot of your other kids stuff. I’m grateful to the people in our community who are aware of this and send me pics.
Thankfully, we only stayed one night. In Sam’s history of hospital stays, a one nighter has only happened three times, and the first two were day surgeries when he was a baby, because they didn’t quite trust him yet. He was treated for cellulitis at his PICC site and twenty-four hours later, we were on our way home. Of course, everyone was happy to see him on the in patient side.
The next day around 4:30 p.m., Sam fell asleep on the couch watching his iPad. Uh oh. This is not like Sam. I hooked him up to his pulse oximeter (checked his heart rate and oxygen). His heart rate was a little elevated. Shoot, but not too concerned. As his heart rate went up, he started to develop a fever. Crap. Oh, Lord, please don’t let it be sepsis. After a few phone calls to the infusion team and his doctor, we were advised to bring him back to the hospital. Sepsis is always a cause for concern with a PICC, but the risk goes way up when you have a skin infection at the site. We packed ALL the things again and headed back to Children’s. My fear was trying to set in, but I was pouring my faith into my heart.
We checked in, they got his vitals, and we were in a room in record time. The nurse set up the blood culture labs before the doc even saw us. She was ready. The doc came in and ordered the necessary tests. They drew labs and swabbed for all the viruses. Side note. One of the beauty’s of having a PICC is not having to get poked. We waited.
Sam and Dad are sleeping and mama is praying it’s not sepsis.
The doctor came in the room and my heart beat a little faster. At that point, Sam’s labs weren’t concerning, but Sam was positive for Covid. Thank goodness!! He likely picked it up at the hospital when we were there, but who knows! Poor buddy. If you’re wondering why I was so happy about Covid, it’s because I’ll take Covid over sepsis any day. We packed everything up and headed home. It was a four hour round trip and another late night, but record ED time and we got to go home.
Other than a low grade fever, Sam’s rocking Covid so far. Praying it stays the course it is.
Thankfully, through all this, he’s still tolerating his feeds.
We were surprised when he actually left the mask on for a couple of minutes at the eye doctor.
Sam Strong
Faith Over Fear
Starting Feeds
Besides his meds and water, Sam has not had anything in his stomach for over two months. I think it’s safe to say, his gut has had rest. We are going to introduce feeds into his g-tube (feeding tube) very soon. It will be a very, very small amount, and we will slowly add more as he tolerates it. We are nervous and excited.
Sam has otherwise been doing great! “Eating” through his bloodstream doesn’t seem to phase him much. He’s not in school yet, but he’s been able to go to occupational therapy and speech comes to our house once a week. He keeps himself busy organizing and being on his IPad more than he probably should be.
PICC line dressing changes are getting easier each week. He seems to fight less and knows the worst part is when his infusion nurse has to take off the old dressing. Getting his TPN (nutrition) started has become a part of our evening routine and it feels normal. I will be happy though when the PICC line is gone. It’s not the fastest process in the world and let’s face it, not normal.
Please pray Sam tolerates his feeds and he will not need the surgery his surgeon talked about before Christmas.
I hope you and your family had a very Merry Christmas and Happy New Year! I know I got my Christmas wish and very thankful for it.
Sam Strong
Faith Over Fear
Guessing Game
This poor kid. He continues to completely amaze me. He is the toughest little boy I have ever known.
On top of his esophagus being narrow, RSV, and tracheitis, the last three days, he’s had two infiltrated IV’s and intussusception again.
We played a guessing game for a few days with the intussusception. I had a light bulb moment on Thursday morning he was having intussusception again, but you can only catch it when it’s happening. To recap, we know Sam had intussusception in April and again when we were in Cincinnati in May. Needless to say, when we finally caught it on the ultrasound a few days later, I was bummed and felt validated at the same time. Because the intussusception is resolving on its own, there’s not much to do besides gut rest, which Sam’s been doing for the past week.
Thankfully, the first infiltrated IV healed on its own. The second was not as fortunate. His hand puffed up like a balloon to his elbow and because it didn’t heal on its own, they had to treat it. Oh no. This has only happened once in his life when he was a baby. I say ‘only’ because for how many times Sam has had an IV placed, that’s pretty good. I told the nurse, “I don’t want to be in the room when you do it.” I knew what treatment meant. Five needles poked in his little arm at the same time. I didn’t have it in me at that point to help hold him down. Thank you to the nurses who reassured me, it was more than okay for me to step out. We have barely and thankfully avoided another IV since then.
During all the guessing, the hospitalist said, “I always have at least one on the unit. The one who keeps me up at night when I go to bed and the one I think about when I wake up in the morning and that is you this time Sam.” If I had a dollar for every doctor I’ve heard say something like that…
It’s reassuring though. There’s comfort in knowing someone is losing sleep over figuring out your child.
Now we need Sam to start tolerating his feeds. He tolerated the Pedialyte great, but as soon as we introduce formula, he seems to go downhill. In order for us to break out of jail, he needs to be tolerating formula. You’ve got this buddy!
He’s had some pretty rough days, but today was overall good. Praying it’s all uphill from here. Prayers for continued wisdom and discernment for his doctors. Prayers for the intussusception to not come back. Prayers he will tolerate his feeds. Prayers for a restful night tonight.
Sam Strong
Faith Over Fear
An Answer
Sam’s esophagus was barely open (esophageal stricture). This is nothing new for Sam, but it’s been a very long time since he’s needed a dilation. This is the best fixable answer we could ask for. His GI doctor dilated him and wants to dilate again in two to four weeks. Poor buddy.
Praying now he will tolerate Pedialyte. Generally, when Sam is hospitalized, the doctors want him to be successful on his home feeding regimen before we go home. We move very slow to get there. I was able to convince the docs to let him be successful on Pedialyte and let us work on the formula at home. Anything to give us a few less days in the hospital.
Now Sam just needs to turn the corner so we can get the heck out of dodge!
Thank you for all your prayers! Continued prayers Sam will turn the corner, his blood pressure will come down, and that he will not surprise us with anything else.
Faith Over Fear
Sam Strong
Looking Up
As of right now, Sam will not need surgery. Thank you Lord!
The surgeons were pretty convinced yesterday morning Sam would need surgery based off the six ultrasounds he had throughout the night on Sunday. As they came and pressed on his tummy throughout the day yesterday and rested his belly, they became less convinced Sam would need surgery.
Today we started some Pedialyte at a very slow rate in his g-tube. Those of you who know Sam, you read right, I said his g-tube, not his j-tube. After the misery of the getting the j-tube inserted in radiology (not surgery here), surgery pulled his j-tube that evening possibly thinking it was instigating the intussusception. For a few reasons, this could be a disaster or a blessing in disguise.
One reason is the j-tube has often kept us out of the hospital when he gets sick and is not tolerating Pedialyte or formula in his g-tube (stomach). Another reason is that he is currently dependent on his j-tube for half of his daily feedings. The blessing would be, he will tolerate ALL his feedings in his g-tube and not need the j-tube. We would absolutely love only a g-tube.
The surgeon and nurse laughed at me in the middle of the night when the j-tube was pulled and the g-tube was put in when I said, ”Oh it’s so beautiful.” If you know anything about feeding tubes, you can understand my excitement. If you know Sam medically, you can understand my apprehension. It’s going to be a blessing in disguise.
The best news is Sam woke up this morning clearly feeling much better. He’s sitting up and even giving quite a few smiles. He hasn’t made any sounds yet, but I don’t think we’re far from that.
A night and day difference from yesterday!
The hotel we were staying at did not have anymore availability, but we were able to get a room at the Ronald McDonald House here and we able to cancel our flight with no fees.
I’d be lying if I told this is easy, but you know me, I like to stay focussed on the perks. It’s much better for the soul. I also believe we are in the best place possible. Cincinnati Children’s is internationally known for caring for kids with airway and esophageal disorders. It doesn’t take long having a kid like Sam to see that.
Pray Sam will tolerate his feeds, the intussusception has fixed itself, it will not recur, and for NO MORE SURPRISES!
Thank you for walking alongside us in this journey, the continued prayers, and the encouragement. They both go a long way.
Sam Strong!
Faith Over Fear!
No Clear Answers, But...
...we have a good plan in place. Here is an extremely summarized version of the latest.
They didn’t find anything on the endoscopy. Based off Sam’s symptoms, and stopping and starting his feeds, they have narrowed down the problem to his feeds. I’ll spare you all of the medical jargon and Sam’s anatomy talk.
They will rest his bowels for the next day or so and very slowly introduce feeds. If the feeds go south again, they will do another endoscopy through his j-tube (feeding tube).
Otherwise, it may be Sam’s little gut needs more time, which means, we would be able to go home, but with a PICC line to make up for lost nutrition. Sigh. Okay, time for that good olé self talk.
The PICC line would only be temporary and we would be able to go home, where both Sam and I need to be.
On a good note, Sam had an overall good day. His strength and determination never ceases to amaze me.
Faith Over Fear!
Sam Strong!
What Will You Remember?
To my sweet Sam. Each year when your birthday rolls around, off and on, I become numb. The moments where my world completely stopped, become vivid in my mind more often at this time of the year.
This day four years ago our lives forever changed. The days with you can be hard, scary, long, overwhelming, and a lot of work, BUT I wouldn’t change a single thing.
You’ve made me realize even more, you never know what the stranger standing next to you has endured during this life, whether there is a smile on their face or not.
Because of you I’ve been able to meet some of the most amazing people and even though there seems to be so much chaos in the world, you continue to make me see all the good in people.
Today, and every year on this day to come, I will forever wonder what you will remember.
What will you remember?
Will you remember the day you were born when they immediately took you from me because you were turning blue?
I don’t think so.
Will you remember when you and Dad left in the ambulance without me?
No, but I will.
Will you remember I didn’t see you and Dad until over twenty-four hours later?
No, but I will.
Will you remember at the beginning when they said you would have surgery and then go home in a few weeks?
No, but I will.
Will you remember when you were four days old? Dad and I were waving goodbye to you, tears in our eyes, as they rolled you away for your first of many surgeries?
No, but I will.
Will you remember when you were scheduled for surgery, but it got canceled because you went into cardiac arrest?
I don’t know.
Will you remember when I was going home for the first time after you had been in the hospital for almost three months to take your brothers and sister to their first day of school, but couldn’t because you went into cardiac arrest again?
I wonder.
Will you remember when less than twenty-four hours later, you turned blue AGAIN, needing more than ten minutes of chest compressions this time?
Maybe.
Will you remember when the doctor would give us more bad news? He told us in order for you to have a chance at life you would need a tracheostomy? They would need to cut a hole in your throat to insert a breathing tube?!?!
No, but I will.
Will you remember the first time Dad and I had to change your trach (breathing tube)?No, but I will.
Will you remember the surgery we had been waiting for since you were born that everyone thought would be successful, wasn’t?
No, but I will.
Will you remember when they told us they would be moving you to to the PICU (Pediatric Intensive Care Unit) because NI (Neonatal Intensive Care Unit) doesn’t know how to sedate kids like PI does?
No, but I will.
Will you remember when you came back from surgery on your tummy with more chords coming from you than I could count, on a huge bed that wasn’t meant for babies?
No, but I will.
Will you remember when they stretched your lower esophagus out of your upper back and your upper esophagus out your lower back?
No, but I will.
Will you remember the balloons on your back that couldn’t move and if you would even flinch, they would quickly give you more sedation meds?
No, but I will.
Will you remember when I was weak, Dad was strong and when Dad was weak, I was strong?
No, but I will.
Will you remember when I read and sang to you everyday during your thirty-four day medically induced coma?
No, but I will.
Will you remember one day while I was reading to you and your shoulder slightly twitched as if you knew it’s what I needed that day?
No, but I will.
Will you remember when they they took you down to surgery to try connect your esophagus to your stomach again, but couldn’t?
No, but I will.
Will you remember the chest tubes?
No, but I will.
Will you remember when they told us a chunk of your lower esophagus had torn off so they threw that piece of you away, resutured, and stretched again?
No, but I will.
Will you remember the brokenness I felt being torn between staying with you in the hospital and going home to be with your brothers, sister, and dad?
No, but I will.
Will you remember when they tried to do a trach change, but you went into cardiac arrest AGAIN and needed to be reintubated?
I wonder.
Will you remember when your ENT left his clinic that day just to check on you, told me we had been through so much, hugged me, and left to return to his clinic?
No, but I will.
Will you remember all the complications?
No, and honestly, I already don’t. There were so many.
Will you remember the first time you opened your eyes after your thirty-four day medically induced coma?
No, but I will.
Will you remember when a part of me wanted you to close them again because they creepily raced back and forth?
No, but I will.
Will you remember when your nurse told me I would get to hold my baby after almost two months of not being able to?
No, but I will.
Will you remember, although you were tiny, it took four people to carefully and slowly put you into my arms?
No, but I will.
Will you remember the tears immediately streaming down my face as I held you in my arms again?
No, but I will.
Will you remember when they told me we needed nurses in our home for up to twenty hours of the day to help take care of you?
No, but I will.
Will you remember when you were you six months old and I took you on your first stroller ride, up and down the hospital halls?
No, but I will.
Will you remember how excited, yet terrified I was the day they told me we could finally bring you home?
No, but I will.
Will you remember when they put your car seat on the ambulance stretcher, all the hugs, people staring, doctors and nursing crying?
No, but I will.
Will you remember the first day you were home after spending over seven months in the hospital?
No, but I will.
Will you remember the many who thought you’d never make it out of that hospital?
No, but I will.
Will you remember the first time we went back to the hospital two weeks after you were home to get your esophagus stretched?
No, but I will.
Will you remember all the surgeries? You’ve now had over fifty and you’re not even four.
No, but I will.
Will you remember all the times we spent in the ER because the regular clinic, urgent care, or hospitals closer to us don’t know what to do with a kid like you?
No, but I will.
Will you remember for over nine months people brought meals to our house?
No, but I will.
Will you remember the MANY cards, gift cards, and gifts we received?
No, but I will.
There is so much more I will remember, but you won’t and that’s how it should be.
There are times I wonder if you will remember the four times in your life you met Jesus. I wonder if you’ll be able to speak someday and tell me all about it. Until then, I will love you like every mother loves their children.
Happy 4th birthday my sweet boy!!!! Keep on being super!!!!
Happy 4th birthday Superman Sam!
Sam Update
It’s been a while since I’ve shared the latest on Sam. No news is good news, right? Pretty much.
It may also have something to do with distance learning, which kicked my behind. I am very glad school is out for the summer in our house. There may have been more yelling matches and apologies needed than I am proud to admit.
Sam was also able to do distance learning, which was the highlight of our days to watch. His face would light up as soon as the camera started. He thinks it’s pretty great to watch himself, and loved seeing his teacher, paras, and classmates. Our hearts melted every time.
Sam’s teacher, therapists, and paras had an end of the year virtual graduation for each child individually. His teacher dropped off a package about a week prior and had asked us to wait to open it until the graduation. Everyone talked about all the things they loved about Sam, he opened his gift and it ended with a video of pictures of Sam throughout the school year. The tears were literally streaming down my face.
This kid who isn’t suppose to be here...absolutely thriving.
Besides a few bumps, Sam has been very healthy and continues to put smiles on everyone’s faces.
As you know, I like to pull the perks in crummy situations. Most of us could agree being stuck at home wasn’t what we would choose, but there was good that came of it for us.
When Sam has just one appointment, it's usually at least a four hour ordeal if not more. We try our best to group some appointments together in one day for less trips overall.
While quarantined, we were able to schedule Sam’s appointments virtually, which has been a huge blessing for us. An hour versus four or more out of your day is much better if you ask me and Sam is a very busy guy when it comes to doctor appointments.
One virtual appointment did lead Sam to needing an ultrasound in the near future. Unfortunately, it’s looking likely there was a complication of the surgery he had last fall, which may lead him to another surgery. Praying against yet another surgery for this guy.
Sam’s ophthalmologist wanted to see him in the clinic before his normal six month check up. Since January, he’s been closing his right eye when he is focusing on something. We thought maybe his nearsightedness had gotten worse. We were wrong. I’m not gonna lie, the thought of Sam having glasses made me a little excited. You can’t tell me, he wouldn’t be adorable. Am I right?!
The reason Sam has been closing his right eye is because his lazy eye has gotten worse. For right now, he has to wear a patch alternating eyes for an hour a day. Sam’s nurse and I practically laughed when we walked out of the clinic. There no way he’s going to tolerate that! Wrong again!
He’s been a rock star at wearing his patch. Coincidentally, his buddy next door has to wear a patch too. This definitely helps! And they couldn't be any cuter.
We are the patch buddies.
Sam was finally able to get a haircut! We are always amazed at how fast his hair grows. I’ve lost track of how many haircuts he’s had. We are thankful we have someone who comes to our house to cut his hair.
I need a haircut.
Yeah, I look pretty cute.
Right now, Sam’s focus are his GI issues, which have always been a work in progress for him. The latest thing we’ve tried has been working successfully for almost a week. We’re praying this stays that way.
Cincinnati...
Obviously with Covid, we had to put the brakes on our trips, which is not such a bad thing. Yes, we want to get rid of Sam’s trach and it holds us back from things, but overall he has a good quality of life so pumping the brakes is okay. More importantly, Sam has been healthy the past few months and we are grateful for that.
We received a phone call about three weeks ago from Cincinnati, they will be calling in June or July to schedule Sam’s next surgery. My guess is our next big trip will be in the fall.
That’s all for now folks!
Thanks for staying Sam Strong even in the midst of all the chaos in our world.
COVID-19 AKA Coronavirus
About two weeks ago, I did my usual run to the pharmacy to pick up Sam’s meds. We had been running low on hand sanitizer, which is a staple in our house so I figured I would pick some up.
I ventured over to the aisle where I knew I would find the hand sanitizer. As I turned the corner, I noticed empty shelves. You guessed it. There was absolutely no hand sanitizer. That’s silly, I thought to myself, I guess I’ll get it at Walmart. The shelves were completely empty there too. For real?! This can’t be a result of people freaking out about the Coronavirus?! I’ll try Amazon. Nope. I’m not paying that kind of money for a six fluid ounce bottle!!
This is a true story. It’s hard for me to understand. As you are probably aware, there are many other things flying off the shelves besides hand sanitizer. Being precautionary is one thing, but wiping out stores tells me fear and panic are involved.
We are now on our last bottle of hand sanitizer and I still haven’t been able to find any. I’m not going to bend over backwards to find it and I’m not going to pay a pretty penny for it. We have kind people in our life who know how important hand sanitizer is in our house and have bought some for us.
People are living in fear. Fear of what might or could or might not happen. Being precautionary is one thing, panic is another.
We have a medically fragile son. How many are feeling and reacting to the Coronavirus, we could feel and react the same way each and every day. This is the reality of anyone who has a medically complex child. Every single day, germs are very BIG deal in our house.
We choose not to live in fear. We do our best, but that’s all we have. We take precautions, but don’t let the weight of what the germs “could” do to Sam consume our minds. We continue to wash our hands and say our prayers, because Jesus and germs are everywhere. I try focus more on the Jesus side of things, because I believe His plan is bigger.
Worry is a thief of joy. The more you dwell on your worry, the more and more tangible it becomes. A worry can’t change anything. It is just that, a worry. It's our mind dwelling on the maybe. I have two things in my life right now that are legit things I could worry about. If I sat, thought about, continually talked about, read about, and listen to all the terrible things that "could" happen, I would likely drive myself nuts. We have to choose to make technology a blessing and not a cursing, because, unfortunately, if we aren't careful, fear and panic can easily set in.
Try not to let the fear of the Coronavirus consume you. Keep living the life you are hopefully already doing by good hand washing and staying home if you are sick.
Worry implies that we don’t quite trust that God is big enough, powerful enough, or loving enough to take care of what’s happening in our lives.- Francis Chan
Why Target?
Target.
I don't know what it is about Target.
Every time I go to Target alone, I get super emotional. There are moments my body seems to freeze up and time feels as though it is standing still. I walk by the sweet mamas talking to their sweet babies while their cute little legs are dangling out of the cart. My heart is happy for them and hurts at the same time. I think about how grateful I am I was able to take my first three sweet babies to Target. Sam has never been to Target or in any store for that matter. Or I go to the baby food section and the only thing I buy is green beans. I don't buy anything else because the only thing, besides formula, we pump into Sam's gj-tube (feeding tube) is green beans. For a moment, I envy the other mamas who are buying other baby food flavors. Stupid, I know. Then I tell myself to buck up and feel grateful for nurses and feeding tubes and life.
Suddenly, it hits me.I figured it out.
PTSD. Post-traumatic stress disorder.
Yep, kind of weird, I know, but it's a thing and it can happen to anyone who's been through a trauma.
When Sam was "living" in the hospital, I basically lived there too. On the rare occasion I did leave, it was to be with my family or quickly pick-up some toiletries. We lived in twelve different rooms in the seven months Sam was there so I learned to live very sparingly. Guess what store I went to on my rare trips out of the hospital? Yep...you guessed it...Target.
I vividly remember standing in the checkout line at the Target closest to the hospital during an extremely grim time for Sam. I felt like I was the scene in a movie. I looked at the person in front of me, behind me, and everywhere around me wondering what their story was. An overarching question constantly on my mind still to this day..."What's their story?" I remember failing to fight back tears as I stood in line. I quickly wiped away the small tears as I came closer to the checkout. It didn't help there was a proud daddy with his little boy who couldn't have been more than a year old in front of me.
It's crazy how sounds, smells, and/or certain places can bring back vivid moments in your life. Whether they were moments of peace or fear, they were real to you. It's those moments of fear that seem to hit us the hardest. Fear can wrap around you so tightly, it can almost feel hard to breath. It can happen even if you haven't experienced a trauma. I'm guessing we have all had moments like this. When you can stand in faith and know fear is a liar, your happiness can't be taken. That grip of fear slowly releases and a peace that passes all understanding sets in.
Still almost three years later, I have to fight with myself anytime I step foot in a Target alone. Some days there is more fighting than others, but every time I walk out those sliding glass doors, I choose to smile, remind myself, it could be so much worse, and ponder the MANY things I am grateful for.
Next Steps
Where do I begin?! Ya know that whole mentally preparing myself thing I've talk about? I don't think I did enough of that this time. Or maybe we just got a lot of overwhelming information. Or maybe it gets harder and harder to send Sam off to surgery as he gets older and more aware of what's going on. Or maybe it's a combination of both. Or maybe sometimes I have my moments.
He was super upset after surgery until he saw his mama. He fell asleep instantly, cuddled in her arms.
Sam is definitely starting to figure things out. He does just fine until everyone starts coming in to go over things. This time his anesthesiologist said he was pretty feisty when they brought him back to the operating room. Poor buddy. After looking at Sam's history, the anesthesiologist said "Wow, he's got quite the history. It's v.e.r.y rare a kid makes it to three pages." We all joked saying Sam should get a medal or trophy or something. I could have laughed or cried. I laughed. Laughing is much better for the soul.
Trying to explain everything and making it make sense to the general public is tough. I'll do my best.
ENT...
Because of the GI findings, Sam's ENT has decided to stay in the background for quite a while. He wanted us to talk to Sam's pulmonologist as he said Sam's airway is really red and inflamed. This is likely due to Sam's most recent illness, which is a whole other story. Thankfully, after looking at the pics, Sam's pulmonologist wasn't worried. The good news...the small part of Sam's airway he fixed last month was successful!
GI...
We got answers, but not the greatest news. It's a lot of info, but in short, his GI surgeon is going to talk to docs from Boston as they are stumped and not sure what to do next. After looking, they discovered his tummy surgery came undone or unwrapped. The surgery, last done in November of 2017, that's failed three times now. It's likely, the unsuccessful surgery is due to Sam's violent retching episodes, which in turn wreak havoc on his already stressed esophagus. Either way he'll have another open surgery sometime this summer. Open surgery...yuck. They will do some more tests and dilate his esophagus again in four weeks. The good news...he once again recovered beautifully!
Once again, we wait...patiently.
We are used to getting bad news and the unknown. Hope is hope, just that, and it's a phenomenal thing. We cling to hope.
"We are hard pressed on every side, but not crushed; perplexed, but not in despair; persecuted, but not abandoned; struck down, but not destroyed."(2 Corinthians 4:8-9 NIV)
Here We Go Again
Sam will go to surgery again tomorrow (Monday). His GI surgeon and a GI doctor will stretch his esophagus again for the twenti somethingth time. His ENT will look to see if the sutures stayed intact on the bottom part of his Laryngeal Cleft, or the hole in his airway. His ENT has decided only to look and see if the surgery he did last month worked or not. Both Sam's ENT and GI surgeons are going into this, hoping to formulate a plan based on their findings.
There are SO MANY things I could worry about with Sam. Of course, I travel down that path sometimes, but it gets me nowhere except stressed and fearful. There is SO little we can control. I know we are doing everything in our control, the rest is out of our hands. We choose to let go, and let God. When that truly happens, I can tell you from experience, the stress and fear factor quickly go away.
Pray the surgery done last month on Sam's airway was successful. Pray for Sam's surgeons, anesthesiologist, and anyone else caring for him. Pray Sam will recover quickly, his docs will be able to formulate a good plan, and we will get some answers. Pray for the rest of us too. I joke, Sam recovers faster than I do when he has surgery. As you can imagine, surgery days are pretty mentally and emotionally exhausting. As always, thank you for keeping us and our Superman Sam in your prayers.
Pseudomonas
Well, it's been a bit since my last post. If you can imagine, life gets a little busy juggling a complex child and three other kids. Not too long ago, someone bought me a journal. The cover reads, "There are no ordinary days." So true, for all of us, really. Although, if I'm being completely honest, I can think of countless ordinary days before Sam. When I talk about my ordinary days to my close people, they would tell you my days are not so ordinary. I'm okay with that. We usually laugh and I say, "You can't make this stuff up!" Laughter, for sure, is the best medicine. Thank you to my besties for listening about my not so ordinary days. I couldn't do this journey without you.
We did end up having to spend Sam's anniversary in the hospital, but thankfully we did not get admitted. It couldn't have been more than an hour after I posted my last post, we were instructed to take Sam in. Bummer. He was a pretty sick little guy. Poor buddy. Although, it was the fastest trip to the Children's ER we've ever had. Like any of our ER visits, they did blood work, a trach culture, and x-rays. Round trip, it was only five hours. That's record time! The nurse in the ER congratulated Sam on his anniversary. We all laughed, agreeing he had to pay a visit to his alma mater for his anniversary. Laughter, the best medicine.
Okay, so how many of you Googled that one? Pseudomonas? It is the type of infection or type of tracheitis Sam had growing on his trach culture. It's not the first time Sam's had it. It's a scary one and we do everything on our part to keep it away from Sam, but unfortunately there's only so much we can do. It's not something us normal people have to worry about. You'd have to have an artificial airway, like Sam, or an open burn wound, or be in a hospital hooked up to a bunch of stuff. Thankfully, we were able to treat it this time and once we knew what it was, we were able to treat it quickly.
I'd like to say things have been going really well for Sam since then. Let's just say, we've had an eventful February. Sam's has some GI stuff going on. Pray we can get it figured out and get him back on track, or at least back on "his" track.
There's no doubt, this kid keeps all of us on our toes!
Sam's been walking since November and I've been meaning to post a video since then. Here it finally is! Click here to see Sam walk!
Sam strong!
The Holidays and the Complex Child
Why is getting sick such a big deal for the complex child? Why does the fear of getting a simple cold bring slight panic into the hearts of families and caretakers of a complex child? When Sam gets sick, he gets so much more sick than a healthy child. A little cold makes for several more added nebulizers throughout the day, which is on top of the daily nebulizers he already takes. A cold can easily turn into pneumonia. A cold can quickly turn into another hospital stay. Don't even get me started on the flu. Ugh. That opens a whole different can of scary worms in our world.
Why do doctors want their complex patients basically quarantined at home especially during cold and flu season? They are well aware of the repercussions.
Why do the little germs, we barely gave a second thought about with my three other kids, seem SO MUCH BIGGER to us now? In a sense, they are much bigger for Sam, not literally, but figuratively. When my other kids got/get sick we might go to the clinic. Sam skips the clinic or urgent care and goes straight to the hospital. There are no in between spots for him.
Around the holidays, why are there more complex kiddos in the hospital? We get more brave during the holidays. We want to feel like a normal family.
Although it looks like I'm a complete freak in my writing. I am actually able to keep my anxious thoughts fairly under control. There is so little we can control. We can't control what happens to us, but we can control how we respond. We do what we can and follow our doctors orders. I trust in a God who's purpose is only good, and I believe in a God who wants me to give Him all my worries and concerns. I try my darndest to do just that.
I am also incredibly thankful for a family and friends who are understanding of Sam and his complexities. I've started to meet people who live in our world and many can't say the same. Our family and friends stay away when they are feeling under the weather and sanitize and/or wash their hands before they touch Sam. Again, there's only so much we can control. It's important for Sam to be around his family and friends. I know we all cherish these few and far between times. Sam loves to be around people. He's become a little show off and loves when everyone has their eyes on him.
We made it through the holidays without Sam getting sick, which is just short of a miracle with how brave we were. We spent Christmas with family, and we had lots of family staying at our house from out of town. I'm pretty sure they would tell you I did a good job at keeping my anxious thoughts under control. Those of you who know me, know I am far from a Nervous Nelly, but man, Sam has really made this Nelly character come out in me once in a while. I'm human, right?! Sam is healthy right now and has been for over a month. That's what we choose to keep our thoughts on. And he's going to stay that way!
Is This For Real?!
Every child's life is a gift, no matter their diagnosis.
A post I wrote in August of 2017...
Yes, Sam has Down Syndrome. It always throws me a little off guard when people think it is a thing for us. I don't know, maybe, if it was Sam's only diagnosis, it would have been. It is not Sam's only diagnosis. Sam is what the medical world calls a medically complex child. When your child fights for their life, a diagnosis like Down Syndrome is not what you think about. When your child is in a medically induced coma for 34 days, you don't care about Down Syndrome. When you spend months in the hospital, Down Syndrome is no big deal. When your child has multiple surgeries, Down Syndrome is not a concern. When you bring your very medically complex child home for the first time, you are not thinking about Down Syndrome. When your child is put under one to two times a month to get his esophagus stretched, Down Syndrome is not important. When you make weekly, sometimes more, trips to the hospital, it's still not a thing. Yes, maybe it was initially, for a split second, but I don't really remember that part very much at all. I just wanted and still want my baby alive and healthy. When you have a medically complex child, that is your focus one hundred percent of the time. Down the road, when hospital stays, surgeries, the fear of Sam getting a cold, etc. are a thing of the past, I'm guessing then, Down Syndrome might be a thing for us, but maybe not, I don't know. Until then, and always, he is just just our baby who needs to be loved and kept as healthy as possible.
If you are someone who thought Down Syndrome was a thing for us and you feel bad about it, please don't! It has weighed on my heart, and I want people to be aware. It makes sense to me. Down Syndrome is something more people can relate to. Not many people have heard of Long Gap Esophageal Atresia and even less have heard of a Type II Laryngeal Cleft. When you have a medically complex child, Down Syndrome is not your focus. This doesn't mean we want to pretend Sam does not have Down Syndrome, quite the contrary. This also doesn't mean people can't ask questions or can't talk about it with us. It's only a glimpse into the heart of a mama with a medically complex child, who's sharing how Down Syndrome is not on her radar right now.
A new, sweet friend of mine, recently posted a blog related to a mission she is not only trying to, but is beginning to make waves in a sadly still biased world. In order for you to understand my feelings, you have to take a minute and read her post first...I'm sorry all your hopes and dreams are over for your child. (Click here)
Is this for real?!
Appalling, right?!I honestly do not remember much about Sam's Down Syndrome diagnosis. After reading Carissa's post, I drilled Sean with many questions, about what he remembers, while also trying to piece together what I remember.
What Sean remembers...
...when the ambulance came to take him and Sam, not long after Sam was born, the Nurse Practitioner from Children's told him not to worry and that this baby would be the light of his life. She told him about her daughter who had Down Syndrome and how she was the joy of her life and so many others.
Message...Sam's life is a gift.
What I remember...
...a neonatologist from Children's calling me at Mercy Hospital the day after Sam was born. He told me what, at the time, they thought was wrong with Sam. He also said, "All the nurses are telling me he has Down Syndrome. I don't see it, but the nurses are always right. We will do the blood test and we will see."
Message...Sam may have Down Syndrome, which is neither good, nor bad, just fact.
What we both remember...
...after Sam's dramatic first time appearance into the real world, someone asking if we knew he had Down Syndrome.
Message...Sam may have a diagnosis the family is not aware of. Again, neither good, nor bad, just fact.
...when we first received Sam's blood work confirming his diagnosis of Down Syndrome. Although, neither of us needed blood work to confirm it. This was really hard for both of us to remember. We think we pieced together the neonatologist who delivered the news. That's about all we can remember. I can tell you, I know, this same neonatologist views Sam's life as a gift, as she chose to feature him on the MN Neonatal Foundation's (Click here) website.
Message...Sam's life is a gift.
Not once did any medical personnel make us feel Sam's diagnosis of Down Syndrome was a hopeless or bad thing. Some of what we remember was neither good, nor bad, just fact. Never did we feel we had to convince anyone Sam's life is a gift.
I'm sorry all your hopes and dreams are over for your child. What if we would have heard these same words during Sam's often hopeless looking situation? Would we have the same feelings as we did when I wrote about Sam having Down Syndrome so long ago? I think so, but they probably would have been stronger and/or more intense. Would it have made our already hard journey feel heavier? I believe so. If we felt we had to prove Sam's life is a gift, would Down Syndrome have more of a focus for us? I don't know, but maybe. I can't imagine going through what we have with Sam, while also feeling like we had to convince people Sam's life is a gift. My heart hurts just thinking about it.
I am so thankful we had the experience we did, but my heart aches for those who will receive a message that says their child's life is not a gift. Can you imagine how you would feel if someone made you think your child's life was not worth living?
It's 2...0...1...8! The fact that Down Syndrome is still presented in a bias and hopeless way, boggles my mind. I have yet to meet a family who loves their child less because of his/her diagnosis. If anything, that child has taught them to love deeper and more passionately than they ever have before.
I tear up when I think of how many lives have already been touched by Sam. And he's only two! All of my hopes and dreams are not over for my child. They are just beginning. Every tiny hurdle he makes is a hope and dream we have for him that has been fulfilled. In all reality, he has already surpassed any hope and dream we ever had for him. He brings so much joy into our life and so many others. One smile from Sam and your heart is full. Our Sam has inspired me to do things I never imagined I would. All of our hearts are bigger because of him.
My Life is a Gift
Swallow Study Cancelled
Well, I guess I was right to wonder how a swallow study is done on a kid who doesn't eat or drink anything by mouth. My question lead speech, the specialty who performs a swallow study in combination with radiology, to talk with Sam's ENT. They decided we have to do feeding therapy before they perform the swallow study. Bummer, but it's okay.
Yesterday was not a good day in our house. Let's just say, the cancelling of the swallow study was not the only, nor the worst, of our bad news for the day. When it rains it, it pours, BUT there will be a rainbow. And, like I have said in the past, it could be so much worse.
Again, don't just keep Sam in your prayers. Each time you pray for our Superman Sam, pray for the hearts of me, Sean, Will, Abby, and Ryan. My kids lives have been turned upside down over the past two years, and to say all of this hasn't affected them, would be silly. Someday, I will write about the other half of our story, but for now, I can only ask for prayers.
Thank you for continuing to follow Sam's story. I'm so thankful to the nurse at Children's who encouraged me, so long ago, to start a CaringBridge site. You have no idea how much therapy I get from writing and reading previous posts and comments. I find myself going back and reading things I would have never remembered had I not journaled Sam's story. Sometimes, if I'm having a bad day, I read past comments and my heart smiles again. Thank you for your encouraging words. They go a long way and are not forgotten.