Cincinnati Bound

It’s official.

We will be going to Cincinnati Children’s in February. The first trip will be a series of back to back appointments and scopes. The team of doctors have gathered what they know about Sam’s history from his doctors here. Once they gather the information from our first trip, the doctors will meet again and formulate a plan for Sam. We are hoping and praying some of the plan will be able to be carried out by our doctors here. Bottom line, let’s hope they can figure out a way to get rid of Sam’s trach (breathing tube), which would be a definite game changer for Sam and our family.

Since the referral process started back in August, I have been doing my homework figuring out how we will get Sam to Cincinnati. FAA has SO many regulations. And flying with a complex child gets you no free passes. If anything, it’s the opposite. It’s been an interesting and sometimes frustrating process with a few tears shed. Okay, more than a few. I was surprised by one particular phone call I made to the airline we are flying. It was a specific number to call if you are flying with a person who has disabilities. Seems like the right number to call, right? Let’s just say, the person on the other end was not helpful and insinuated we fly first class. Yes, that was a call that ended in tears. Half the time, when I call places to ask questions, they have no idea what I’m talking about, which is not abnormal when it comes to Sam. The other day the gal who handles Sam from our insurance company told me, most of the things that have come up with Sam, we’ve never seen before so we’ve had to make it up as we go. Side note. Thank you Lord for insurance!

I’ve dived into ALL of the resources I can. I was able to connect with another mom whose daughter was trached and they traveled with her. She reassured me, there will be hiccups along the way and I will probably be sweating profusely by the time we board, but it sounds like I’m on the right track and asking the right questions. It felt good to talk to someone who’s been there. The trach mama world can be an isolating feeling. Although I have some pretty amazing friends who might not “get it” and really don’t try to, but are really good listeners.

The plane tickets are bought, the hotel is booked, and the car is rented!

The rest will get figured out with a lot of help from Sam’s respiratory therapist, nurses, and many others. So thankful for all the help!

Sam has been very healthy for the past month. Sean (my husband) would tell that’s because he hadn’t been in school. Maybe, but he LOVES school and until his docs tell us to pull him, I’ll keep sending him. Praying Sam will stay healthy until Cincinnati and will get to stay in school.

Overwhelmed

This past week was incredibly overwhelming and it wasn’t because things were bad. It was the exact opposite.

Our family and friends have had two benefits to raise money for our travel expenses to and from Cincinnati. People we don’t even know donated silent auction items or gave money to our family. Wow. I didn’t know that many people liked us. Lol.

I knew these events were happening, but I kept pretending they wouldn’t come to pass. They did. I even tried to say, “Thank you, but no thank you.” All I could think is, we don’t deserve this. There might be a lot of crud going on in our world, but I continue to be amazed at the good in people, not only now, but the past three years. I still don’t feel like we deserve any of this, but can tell you, a heavy financial weight has been definitely lifted off of our shoulders. Now, we can focus on how we will get Sam to Cincinnati logistically, not financially.

The other day, I made a huge deposit into an account I set up in Sam’s name. I stood there while the bank teller counted the money and fought back tears. I bit my bottom lip, a subconscious thing I do when I am trying to get my mind on something else. When the teller got to the checks, I did my best to wipe the tears away without anyone noticing. This is silly, I told myself, pull yourself together. Per policy, another bank teller came over to double check the checks. It was all over after that. The floodgates came. I literally sobbed like a baby. So embarrassing. My heart was so overwhelmed, I couldn’t control the tears no matter how much I tried. The teller was so sweet, sincerely asking if I was okay. I reassured her, my tears were happy tears.

If you had any part of any of these events, thank you. Our hearts are so overwhelmed with gratitude, we can barely contain it.

Sean and I came home and both agreed, the two days felt like a surgery day, which means complete exhaustion. It felt like the thoughts that linger after your wedding day. Did we acknowledge and thank everyone who came? Oh, no I didn’t even know that person was there?! Off and on, I keep having to stop the tears from coming, but again, they are happy tears.

Especially now, in a world where we are always “busy”, giving your time is a gift that doesn’t go unnoticed by the receiver. In my opinion, time is the greatest gift you can give someone. I know the time and planning that went into each of the two events on behalf of Sam was a lot. Something like that doesn’t just happen. The monetary gifts given to our family the past couple of weeks would not have been made if people did not give their time. At the end of the day, people gave their gift of time and that is worth just as much.

THANK YOU to anyone who helped in any way whether with your time or your financial contribution. Words truly cannot express our gratitude.

We found out our first travel dates to Cincinnati! We will be going at the end of February!

Sam Strong!

Cincinnati here we come!

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.

Surgery and Then Some

Overall Sam’s surgeries went well. The second surgery was a bit more invasive than we expected, but with a few restrictions, he was back at school the next day.

Recovery has gone well for the most part. We had to keep an eye on some bleeding, but thankfully that subsided.

About a week ago he started more secretions and then retched (threw up) the entire night. After making a call to surgery, we were advised to have Sam be seen either by his pediatrician or take him to the ED (Emergency Department). In order to avoid the ED, I was on the horn at exactly 7:30 that morning as soon as the clinic opened. Sam’s pediatrician wasn’t there, but we were able to see another pediatrician who also sees complex kids. So glad we were able to avoid the ED.

A small recap that morning…

Get the report from the night nurse on Sam’s night after we finally got him to sleep again around 3:00am. Check the discharge paperwork to see the section on, “When to Call the Doctor”. Call the doctor. Bummer…the doctor said to get him into his pediatrician or if were not able, go to the ED. Give the report to the day nurse coming on. Oh yeah, a new nurse is training today. Great day for that. Oh well, it will be good experience for her. Try to keep a smile on my face as introduce myself to the new nurse and hopefully make her feel welcomed. Wake Will and Abby up for school. Make lunches. Eventually tell Will he’ll have to wear dirty socks to school after he, to no avail searched for clean ones. Take Will and Abby to school. Take a shower. Throw in a load of laundry. Run to the store to get Pedialyte since Sam couldn’t tolerate his formula overnight. Throw the load of laundry in the dryer. Double check we have all five bags. Buckle Sam in his carseat. Whew! All that in only a few hours! Only twelve minutes later than when we wanted to leave! We did it! Nice work ladies!

Seeing someone who doesn’t know Sam was a bit interesting. After some discussion and me giving the pediatrician a very small dose of Sam’s medical history, he checked out Sam’s surgery area. I knew as soon as he started fumbling over his words, he was concerned. He danced around his words until I stepped in and helped him finish what he was trying to say, “So, you think we need to get an ultrasound.” He shook his head saying yes. His concern was on the left side. Sometimes I wish there could be something in Sam’s charts that could forewarn medical personnel not to sugar coat things for me. It’s been over the three years now and I know when doctors are giving concerning or difficult news. I wish something said, “She can handle the hard stuff and won’t freak out. Give it to her straight.”

Surgery met us in the ultrasound room. Knowing Sam well and his history from the beginning, she was ear to ear smiles to see how well Sam was doing overall. She also had a good chuckle when the ultrasound tech shared there was a hematoma on the left side which wasn’t too concerning, but there was a small hernia on the ride side. The reason surgery had a chuckle is because she thought it was a classic Sam move to have a little twist in his story.

At the end of the day, the retching was likely related to a cold Sam was brewing, which I also had to explain to the pediatrician after the ultrasound. I reassured him the throwing up wasn’t something we would have brought Sam in for otherwise. We brought Sam because it was so close to surgery and they wanted to be sure the retching wasn’t surgery related. I explained the retching is unfortunately the nature of Sam when he gets a cold.

With an extra boost of nebs, or twelve nebulizer treatments, four times a day, Sam seems to have fought off the cold. Thank goodness!

Just Another Surgery

Tomorrow, Sam will have his forty somethingth surgery. I thought this string of texts between Sam’s teacher and I was kind funny and also shows our perspective on surgery.

Me: Hello! I just wanted to let you know Sam will not be at school this Thursday (10/3) or next Wednesday (10/9). He has a pre-op and then surgery next week. He usually recovers very quickly so hopefully he will be able to be back at school the next day!

Sam’s Teacher: Wow. Ok.

Me: Lol. After sending that…I realized not everyone thinks surgery is no big deal. My world is a bit skewed. 😂

Sam’s Teacher: Perspective is everything.

Me: It sure is. 😊

Me: And attitude. 😃

Sam’s Teacher: Amen.

When Sam was in the hospital a few weeks ago, his GI doc thought it would be a good idea to scope him after he was feeling better. They will look to see if his esophagus is stricturing again. Let’s just say, based off Sam’s symptoms, all of us will be a little surprised if Sam does not need another esophageal dilation.

Once GI is done with their part, Urology will step in and do theirs. This is the 2nd of Sam’s new diagnoses I was talking about that would need surgery. The doctors assumption was correct, Sam would be having surgery in the near future. We did what Urology said, and asked to have them scheduled as well. Quickly, the surgery with both docs was scheduled, which meant we would need a pre-op exam before then. How many times does one have to have surgery in order to get a free pass on pre-op’s?! Just kidding. Thankfully, Sam’s pediatrician almost always finds time for him in her busy schedule and we got the pre-op done.

Even though surgery doesn’t seem like a big deal to us, it doesn’t mean we don’t get nervous. The easy part comes from knowing how to prepare and what to expect before and during. We know how many hours before to stop Sam’s formula and when to start and stop the Pedialyte, exactly where to park, where to go, where the bathrooms are, what the doctors, nurses, surgeons, and anesthesiologists will do and ask, and where to get something to eat. Although a little nervous, we will leave the outcome to Him.

Don’t forget to say an extra prayer for Sam tonight and tomorrow!

Sam Strong!

Faith Over Fear!

Image result for it doesn't get easier you just get stronger

Home

I cannot believe I did that for over seven months. That was an awful long four days. It’s definitely harder now that Sam is older and much more aware. At the beginning of Sam’s life, the hospital was his home. Thank God, the hospital is no longer his home, but he is fully aware of that.

Initially, they kept Sam for dehydration. Sam’s trach culture came back with an active tracheitis. Not surprising. That’s the cursing of having a trach (breathing tube). I often describe having a trach as a blessing and a cursing all in one. Essentially, Sam caught a cold and that cold turned into tracheitis. First there’s a flood of secretions, then it’s hard for him to control all of them, and that leads to almost constant retching. Usually we can run his feeding pump at a pace with Pedialyte that’s just enough to keep him hydrated. Not this time. So, I guess this is a classic example of it’s never “just a cold” for Sam.

Thankfully, Sam is on the mend and nearly back to himself.

In the past three months, Sam has been given three new diagnoses, two of which will need surgery down the road.

I’m not gonna lie, and tell you I wasn’t a bit overwhelmed after spending four days in the hospital and also learning of another diagnosis that will need surgery.

The second of the three diagnoses we found out two weeks prior to Sam’s hospitalization. We were referred to a new specialty. The doctor came into the room and jokingly said, “Well, I looked over his charts and see his one hundred fifty surgeries.” I responded with a sincere smile on my face, “Well, he hasn’t had that many, but yes, it’s been a lot.” He smiled and said, “Let’s take a look at him.” It only took him a few moments to feel and diagnose Sam. The doc nonchalantly said, “Make sure they schedule me in on the next surgery and I’ll snip, snip. My part should only take about twenty minutes.” He had some very kind words and walked out of the room. Sam’s nurse and I instantly laughed how the doc assumed Sam would be having another surgery sometime in the near future. Laughing is better than crying.

Fast forward a couple of weeks. Sam gets sick. We end up getting admitted to the hospital. While we were there, Sam wouldn’t let me put him down. Except for at night, it was him on my lap sleeping, crying, or retching. Through all this I noticed a clicking in his left hip. I brought it up to the Intensivist (cares for seriously ill infants and children or those who need a high-level of monitoring in a specialized inpatient unit). He said he could look, but he’s not the expert in that area. He tried to call an orthopedic doctor/surgeon to see if he/she would take a look, but was told they do not come up on the PICU (Pediatric Intensive Care Unit) floors and it would need to be an outpatient visit. After the third day, the clicking turned into a popping sound and seemed to be much more profound as time passed. I kept telling myself it was in my head until it got to the point you could actually see his hip almost jolt in and out of place. It sounded and felt yucky. After showing the Intensivist again the next day, he thought he would try orthopedics another time in hopes a different doc might be on. He said he would try work his magic. To my surprise, his magic worked, an orthopedic surgeon came and checked Sam out.

It wasn’t long before she diagnosed Sam. The resident doctor with her quietly said something almost under his breath to the orthopedic doc after feeling Sam’s hips. She quickly nodded her head at him and returned talking to me. That’s when I knew it wouldn’t be great news. Basically, we know Sam will eventually have another surgery that will leave him in a body cast for up to four months. Wah. Wah.

He was sent home with a brace to wear at rest until we could be seen outpatient at the specialty clinic. I’m not so sure the doc was fully aware of how active Sam is. The brace wasn’t so bad when Sam wasn’t feeling great, not so much now. We’ll do our best until then.

Sam was elated to be back at school last week and sounds like everyone was happy to have him back. I believe Sam will be stay healthy and stay in school where he is thriving. Believe with me.

We continue to be Sam Strong have Faith Over Fear Always.

Sam
Home from the hospital and feeling better.