Heart Failure

This morning one year ago hit us like a mack truck. As I shared yesterday, we were riding on some false hopes the day before. Early that Monday morning, we saw a different cardiologist. This Dr. later became our favorite, but at that time we were unpreprared for his blunt and honest communication. He came in to do rounds and examine Peter and he told us that he wasn't one bit convinced that they found the pulmonary artery. In fact, his initial diagnosis was that the pulmonary artery either didn't exist, or was not connected to Peter's heart. Either possibility meant that Peter was only living on one lung. Also, because of this and because of the VSD (hole in his heart), Peter was in mild congestive heart failure. The Dr. went on to explain that people think of elderly folks with these words, but it can happen to anyone. Congestive heart failure means that congestion (fluid or gunk) is building up in/around the heart, similar to how congestion builds in our noses and throats with a sinus infection. However, obviously with the heart being the most vital organ in the body, congestion not dealt with over time will be fatal. The Dr. told us that this was why we were seeing the feeding issues. He asked if Peter was sometimes sweating while he ate and I said yes, although I hadn't thought to take notice of that before. The Dr. told us that the next sympton we would have seen is cyanosis - or blue baby, meaning that Peter would have started turning blue. He told us that he was going to immediately start Peter on 4 different medications to try to counteract the heart failure and he was going to order a lung profusion study for that day. (A lung profusion is where they inject dye into the body and take X-ray images of the lungs to see how much dye is going into each lung.) The Dr. said he was sure the lung profusion would show 100% flow to Peter's right lung and 0% to the left. If the results were as he thought, the next step would be a diagnostic heart catheterization to figure out where that pulmonary artery was, if it existed. The Dr. told us we were looking at two possibilities - if the pulmonary artery didn't exist at all, Peter would live his life on one lung, but would still need surgery to close the VSD, the other possibility was if the pulmonary artery existed but wasn't attached, he would need surgery to attach it and still close the VSD.


By the time the Dr. left, I was reeling. I felt like I was in heart failure too, of a different kind. Just four days before, I thought Peter was maybe dealing with reflux or a milk allergy, and just one day before, I thought Peter may be going home on some medication to close the VSD. Suddenly, I was hit with mild congestive heart failure and living on one lung. Either scenario the Dr. presented would require open-heart surgery. Again, the shock washed over me.

A few hours later, our nurse, Jason, came to take us down to radiology for the lung profusion study. Some friends had come to visit us and were willing to wait until we came back. The lung profusion study didn't take too long and I was able to keep Peter relatively calm with a cup of ice that turned into a makeshift rattle. On our way back, I stopped in the waiting room to visit with those friends. Both of these two ladies are more my mom's friends than mine, but both were willing to drive all the way to Charlotte to bring some encouragement and to pray with me. I remember specifically the words of one of their prayers. She said, "God, be with Tom and Kelli as they walk through this valley of the shadow. Death is all around them, but Jesus, You are life!" What a lift that was!

Later that day, we got the results of the lung profusion and the cardiologist was exactly right - 100% to the right lung and 0% to the left. Peter would need a heart catheterization first thing in the morning. In the evening, my mom and dad, Alana, and my aunt (who had come in town to help out), came up for awhile. They stayed with Peter so that Tom and I could go down to the cafeteria and have a meal together. Tom and I were silent as we walked, very unusual for us. There just weren't any words to say. Some things cannot be expressed in words. As we were eating, there was a family sitting together and the little boy, who looked to be about 4 or 5, began singing to his mother - the song was something like "I am my mama's baby boy." Again, no words, just tears.

When we came back to the room, more friends had arrived and we had a good time visiting. All the visits from friends lifted our spirits tremendously (even if just for a moment). When everybody left though, it became very quiet. We got ready for bed, which always struck us as a bit of a joke because we hardly ever slept. I began something that night that became a nightly ritual for me while we were in the hospital. I used our laptop to find some preaching and listened to it for a long while. It was a good way to go to sleep and quite honestly, the only way I could. If I had quiet, my mind took over with thoughts too heavy to deal with and I wouldn't be able to sleep at all. Thus began a very long night.

More tomorrow...........