The Medical Emergency

Okay, the suspense is finally over, partially anyway. I decided to tell each mishap separately. I thought it would be much more fun this way. Like I said, you seriously can’t make this stuff up and it makes for a good story…later anyway!

Don’t worry, the medical emergency was not Sam.

We set off to Florida very early in the morning. TSA Cares is a wonderful program and definitely makes going through security with a complex child a much more smooth process. I would highly recommend taking advantage of this service if you are traveling with a medically complex child.

All was going well. We had just got into the air. All of the sudden, I hear screams coming from the back of the plane. My instant thought, looking at Sam’s nurse, ”You’re a nurse, you should go back there!”

Come to find out an older man had passed out. They were about to lay him on the floor and start chest compressions, but thankfully he came to. Sam’s pulse oximeter came in handy. We took it off Sam for a few minutes and Sam’s nurse was able to use it to check the ”patient’s” oxygen level and heart rate. His numbers showed he would hopefully be okay.

They turned the plane around to go back to Minneapolis. After we landed, the ambulance got the passenger, and who I assume was his wife, off the plane, we sat on the runway for a very long time. During all of this, we were not allowed to “move about the cabin”.

Sam did great on the almost six and a half hour flight we were not planning for. Like when we went to Cincinnati, he needed a little oxygen in the air. This VERY busy little boy surprised us for how well behaved he was. Thank you Lord for IPads!

Once we finally got there, got all of our luggage, and the rental car, we were all pretty hungry at this point, except for Sam, of course. After searching for a bit, we found a great place right on the ocean. We had some time, or so we thought. It was around 3:00 and check-in wasn’t until 4:00. We got our food and I began to get text messages from two different people about checking into our condo.

The message that took me by surprise, and the only message I remember is, ”The office closes at 5:00.” Say what?!?!

I knew we couldn’t check in until 4:00, but I had no idea we only had a one hour window! Uh oh! Everyone, eat fast because we have to go! Sam’s activeness didn’t leave much food in the bellies of Sean and I. Oh well, we gotta go!

We made to it our condo and that’s another story in and of itself. There was A LOT of confusion and a language barrier. We rented two different condo’s with different owners. Thinking this had something to do with the confusion.

After things had mostly been figured out, I asked the about the packages I had delivered and where we could get them. The security officer, responded, “Sorry, the office closes at 5:00, you’ll have to get them tomorrow.” Um….yeah, that’s not going to work. This isn’t extra clothes I sent. My son needs the things in those boxes to live. I politely explained the packages were for my son who is medically complex and needs the supplies in the boxes in order to live. For real. Their eyebrows went up and all of the sudden, we were able to get the packages. Whew.

Once we finally got all of our luggage and Sam’s medical supplies to our condo, we were all pretty tired and hungry, but weren’t going to let that ocean wait another day for us! It might have been dark, but it was still beautiful!

To be continued…

You Can’t Make This Stuff Up!!!

We it made home from Florida, Sam stayed healthy and out of the hospitals there. Overall, we had an amazing time and awesome weather.

We’re off!

It’s seriously insane the events that took place from the beginning of our trip to the end, but I wasn’t sure how to title this post so I figured I’d keep you in suspense for a few days and throw out each title I thought applicable.

To be continued…

Procedures

Overall, Sam’s procedures went well. When we checked in, there was gal training, the receptionist told her, ”Sam is a frequent flyer here.” He put on the charm for the gal training and she was, of course, taken, ”That smile,” she said. “He just made my day.” Yeah, he does that.

The PTSD unfortunately kicked in way before we saw the purple pj’s. As soon as we walked through the second set of automatic double doors, he knew exactly where we were. Poor buddy, became instantly stressed, but made sure he brought on the charm for a few minutes to show off how, he knew without being told, to step on the scale and then pointed to the place on the wall where he would get measured. He bounced off the scale and stood under the wall chart to be measured. Many familiar faces said, ”Hi Sam!” in the process.

The purple pj’s came into play now. The stress level was pretty high at this point. So thankful for the nurse who thought of and agreed to wait for the Versed to kick in until we put on the dreaded purple pj’s. Later, the anesthesiologist said, ”Just leave him in his diaper!” That’s exactly what we did, even after the Versed kicked in.

“I know what’s about to happen to me and I don’t like it.”

Oh boy do I love and hate Versed all in one. It takes Sam’s stress away almost instantaneously, but also makes him really loopy, which can be a little creepy to watch your baby experience.

The MRI results we don’t know yet and the ENT portion went well. Sam’s ENT is a bit new to us. He was very excited to look inside Sam’s airway as he hasn’t yet seen it. He confirmed Sam has a Type II Laryngeal Cleft. Shoot, it’s still there. Sam’s previous ENT is getting close to retirement and moved to Arizona to help start a new program. Although we were very sad to loose him, the transition has gone very well. His new ENT trained closely, and is on a first name basis with the Sam’s doctors in Cincinnati. Bonus.

We felt like a deer in headlights with the GI portion, but for the most part, we got it all sorted out the next day. Unfortunately, they placed a gj-tube in Sam again, which is a more complicated type of feeding tube then Sam’s had for a while. Sam did not need to be dilated and there weren’t any clear anatomical answers for his GI concerns. We will wait for the biopsy results.

“Glad that’s over.” He didn’t even seem to notice how they snuck on the the purple p.j.’s during surgery.

Now let’s hold onto our seatbelts, and pray nothing holds us back from getting on that airplane next week! The planning and preparation for traveling with a kid like Sam is insane, but what a privilege. Thanks to our friend who nominated us in 2019, the MN Vikings, and the Best Christmas Ever, we’re spending Christmas on the beach!

Merry Christmas!

Wishing you and your family a very Merry Christmas!

Upcoming Procedures

This week Sam will have an endoscopy, sigmoidoscopy, MRI, and ENT will check to see if his trach needs to be upsized (bigger trach tube). I love when we can get lots of docs in on one sedation!

As I mentioned previously, Sam has had some GI (tummy) issues that we are hoping can get figured out, hence the endoscopy and sigmoidoscopy.

The MRI is a precaution for the seizures he’s had to rule out anything serious.

Sam has not been put out in over six months!! It’s the longest he’s ever gone in his life, by far!!! Maybe since it’s been so long his PTSD won’t kick in when he sees the purple surgery p.j.’s. Fingers crossed.

Prayers for no PTST with Sam, all the docs involved, some GI answers, nothing serious on the MRI, the anesthesia team, and a smooth, quick recovery so he can get back to this kind of crazy stuff.

Boxes are the best toys.

Sam Strong and Faith Over Fear!

HOME!

After seven days, Sam was able to come home! We are very thankful he is feeling better and it was a short stay, in our world.

If I added correctly, Sam has spent ten plus months of his life in the hospital and he’s only four. That also means he’s spent much more of his life at home. I’m not discounting the time in the hospital. I’m also not saying tears aren’t shed from exhaustion and other things on my part and pain and exhaustion on his. I’m not saying this isn’t REALLY, REALLY hard. I’m not saying to ignore the bad, but in my experience when we focus on the good instead of the bad, it’s harder for the negative to steal your joy.

FaceTime allowed me to stay on the phone with my daughter, off and on, for over three hours to “help” her bake a cake. She had some bumps along the way, but she didn’t give up. It was still pretty good four days later, when I was home to try it. I was a proud mama.

Every time we’re here, most of my family adapts with ease.

Every time we’re here, we meet more great nurses, doctors, respiratory therapists, etc.

Every time we’re here, I learn new tricks to help Sam and I adapt to living in a hospital.

Every time we’re here, Sam steals more hearts.

With an IV in, Sam can only use one hand. I get mesmerized by how he uses his one hand to play when he starts feeling better. The smarty pants even uses his mouth to push toys and objects in place.

This is the life of Sam. We didn’t choose it, but we have learned to adapt, be flexible, and make lemonade out of lemons. And this guy is SO worth it all.

Still Here

Again, I wish I could tell you we are on the path to going home.

I wish I could tell you Sam’s feeds went well when we restarted them.

His feeds are stopped again and another plan will be made tomorrow.

Our answer with an easy fix, didn’t turn out so well. The stricture (narrowing) of his esophagus is not the only issue. Sigh. Back to the drawing board.

I can tell you, Sam is otherwise doing really well. As soon as we stopped the feeds, he seemed to feel better quickly.

He’s like a caged animal right now. We do our best to keep him entertained. Thankfully, we can take wagon and stroller rides up and down the halls and we switch out the toys every couple of days. Bottom line, we, need, to, go, home. It’s feels crazy to think we did this for over seven months.

I’ve mentally prepared myself, the PICC line will be coming home. I can still hope it won’t. More than anything, I hope they/we can figure out why he’s not tolerating his feeds.

While I know you are keeping Sam in your prayers, please pray for our other three kids too. Our love for them is no different than our love for Sam.

Faith Over Fear!

Sam Strong!

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!

Quick Sam Update

We decided to reschedule Cincinnati. After realizing Abby had soccer tryouts while we would be gone, we thought we didn’t want to not be here for her. We also would have had less than a week and a half to plan. That would be a tall building to leap with Sam!

Now we are waiting to get another phone call to reschedule. We thought we’d here back from them this week, but we didn’t. Hopefully we’ll get a call next week knowing they want to reschedule for August.

When it comes to Sam, we’re always waiting for the next thing. When you are in a constant Waiting Place under circumstances at no fault of your own, it’s much healthier to live in the moment than to dwell on the waiting.
Dr. Seuss
We choose not to stay in the Waiting Place.Dr. Seuss
Will (13), Abby (12), Sam (4)

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!!!!

Sam is 4!!
Happy 4th birthday Superman Sam!