An Echocardiogram and other terrors.

I think I’m doing pretty damn good.  Parker has a sedated echocardiogram on November 12th and I have yet to hyperventilate myself into an oblivion.

That’s because I’m making Reed go up this time.

Yeah.  I wish.

I know.  An echocardiogram is a non-invasive test.  It’s not that Parker is in any danger.  He’s sedated so we no longer even have to sit on the kid in order to get him to be still.

While I stand there watching the echo tech I  silently pray the prayer of the desperate while grasping for something I could barter with God for that would insure a good and hopeful result.

The actual terror comes into play when the Cardiologist walks into the room.  The poor man comes in and tries to share pleasantries and other forms of acceptable sociable behavior.  All the while I’m silently screaming, For the love of heaven man, skip the crap and tell me if this echo was worse than the last one. 

Obviously my acceptable sociable behavior could use some polishing.  Or a few Valium.

A little boy with Down syndrome

I know I should somehow figure out a way to be able to put on my big girl panties and make my way through these twice yearly descents into hell with a bit of style and class.

  • I’m working on it.  I’ve even made a list of all the positives that favor an echocardiogram that leaves us feeling hopeful for the future.
  • Parker’s sleeping heart rate has been beautiful these last 6 months. This bodes well for Parker not aspirating the way he was.  (knocking on wood)
  • Parker is gaining weight.
  • Parker is full of incredible, Mama exhausting energy.
  • Parker’s oxygen needs have stayed the same, and he hasn’t needed to go up on his vent settings.

Being Mama to my Brave Hero, well, it’s an adventure of a lifetime.   I love everything about being this kid’s maternal one.  I’m committed to do what ever it takes to make sure he receives the best care possible.  I, like so many other parents of kids with special needs, am willing to go without so that my son can have what he needs.

Maybe I should take a different approach and stare down November 12, refusing to be the one who blinks first.  I’m working to keep my eye on a Thanksgiving that I just might have something extra wonderful to be grateful for.

Do you have any appointments that you hate?  Ones that make you a vervous wreck?

 

About Tammy and Parker

Special Needs Blogger, and homeschooling Mom, heavily involved in advocacy for all kids with special needs in Utah.

Comments

  1. maria cordner says:

    I am always waiting for the silent death – it is a numbing terrifying loud fear monster that sits right on the back of your mind and manage to keep you at the least slightly depressed on the best periods. I get you, Tammy…you needs big girl pants anyway when we are shaking out of our boots for the ones we love?

  2. It’s the heart caths that get to me. Are you going to the main campus or to Riverton? What time? My 13 yr old is having his tonsils out on Tues at the main campus and I might be able to come by and give you a hug, if all the stars align just right. Let me know if I can hold your hand. Love you guys.

    • In our case it is usually the echo that leads to a cath. We’ll be at Riverton. huh. Now that I think of it, I might want to check. Good luck to you and your 13 year old! xoxo

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