Well, friends - here I sit, sleepy and grateful, and once again amazed at how God continues to care for Ethan and our family.
I'm not updating from a hospital room
like I did a little over a year ago but, instead, from the comfort of our own house.
Our couch, in
our living room, with
our bed upstairs. Home.
I can't even believe it.
Jeramie and I both had a
we're-totally-breaking-the-rules feeling as we walked out of the recovery room with our boy in hand. In the now thirteen times that Ethan has recovered from a surgery or procedure, we've
never ever been sent home on the same day. We were floored.
I might be the only mom who's ever told Dr. R to
"shut up!" in the post-cath debriefing, then covered her agape mouth in embarrassment, only to follow it up with a hug and the words,
"I mean that with all the respect in the world."
I'm pretty sure all those cath lab folks think I'm an emotionally-unstable hot mess anyway, so it's all good.
But, I'm getting ahead of myself. Let me back this train up a bit and start at the beginning...
We arrived at Duke around 8:00 this morning and easily entertained Ethan while we waited for his turn in the cath lab. A few episodes of "Word Girl" and a dose of Versed later, he drifted off into sleepy-land to the sound of Jeramie and me singing "Twinkle Twinkle".
That was around 9:30.
We received two updates - one around 10:15 and another about an hour after that - saying that all was well and Ethan was doing great. At the second update we were informed that Dr. R was in the process of ballooning Ethan's conduit and that they would call again in another hour. We knew that successful ballooning would be best case, so with hopeful hearts we headed down to the cafeteria to grab some lunch.
Around 12:15 they called again. A happy nurse on the other line told us that they were done and asked us to head back upstairs. Between the food I had just shoveled into my mouth, the anxiety of wondering what we would be told, and the race to the 7th floor, I thought I would vomit.
It seemed like we waited an eternity for Dr. R and his NP to come talk to us, but what he had to say was well worth the wait. His smile gives him away every single time, and my heart knew they had good news for us. With ballooning alone
(no more stents, no immediate need for surgery), Dr. R was able to -
once again - get Ethan's right ventricular pressure down about 40 mmHG, and the gradient across the conduit down to the TWENTIES! He was also able to balloon Ethan's left pulmonary artery to about 8 millimeters, and discovered that the right pulmonary artery is sitting pretty at 10-11 millimeters.
Praise God!
His hope is that what they did today will push out surgery to another year or so. However, stenosis in the conduit won't be the only factor in making that decision. The valve inside the conduit has a moderate leak - we already knew that - which allows blood to flow back into Ethan's right ventricle (RV). The concern is that this back-flow could put added pressure on his RV, causing it to thin out and not function as well. If that starts to happen, surgery could be a-go before the conduit narrows again.
But we'll cross that bridge when we get there.
After sharing the good news with us, Dr. R grinned and said ...
"Now, this is really going to shock you ... but he can go home."
Enter - The
"Shut up!" Fiasco of 2012.
A couple more hugs and a few mama tears later, they were on their way. And, with much pep in our step, we headed down to recovery just in time to meet our sweet boy there.
Ethan woke-up beautifully thanks to a new drug they used and not once seemed upset or uncomfortable. And, thanks to his femoral veins being no good and Dr. R having to access Ethan's heart through a vein in his neck, he was only restricted to bed rest for two hours instead of four. He played a few games, ate a couple of popsicles, and by 3:15 we were walking into sweet sunshine.
Amazing.
Thank you for your prayers ... your love ... your encouragement.
We are blessed and God is good.
