Distracted

This morning (at 6.15am) I staggered into the kitchen to put on coffee and came face to face with a raccoon eating our catfood. It didn't even run away so I did.

Joshua shouted "get the broom" when he heard my shriek but by the time I came out of the bedroom and found the broom the beastie had left.

Last night I had a good sleep but Frost had nightmares and Granny was worrying about losing suitcases and toys we have not seen since Stanford (hedgie is missing!!!) I have been becoming very anxious about the checkup on Friday. It is okay during the day but in wakeful sleep during the night I worry about the remaining gradient and imagine ancestor-figures dressed as cardiologists who wag long fingers at me and say "this will not last, my child." I have started to wonder how parents of children facing multiple surgeries survive. Are they in therapy with specialists for sick children? How do you reconcile the innate happiness of a child in the now and the insidious fact 'something is, or may be wrong RIGHT NOW' or tomorrow.

While down in Stanford at the playroom I met a mother and her 2.5 year old son. They were waiting for a bed before he could receive methotrexate for his leukemia. She described how they found he had cancer. They were out camping and his leg swelled up. She thought he had been bitten by an insect and took him to the local town hospital where they could find no bite, so did a scan. He had a huge blood clot and a massive area of 'tumor'. He was airlifted to Stanford where he is now an outpatient, hairless, and wearing those little knit caps often given to children in chemo.

As a parent, you are always vigilant for owies, cars, falls, bullies and other potential dangers. But once you know the details of heart defects and leukemia, how do you calm down again? Its like living with the sound of a medivac helicopter arriving on your roof every day, all the time. So, we are doing well settling into home life. Wren loves his toys and "want play diggers" and cars and animals and read books and all the other joys but to mange a metaphor hugely - there is always that "thud thud thud" in the back of my mind - and I am not looking forward to Friday's echo.

One odd thing in the post-op reports is that the numbers for Wren's pre-op and post-op gradients vary widely. On some reports the mean gradient was 41, peak flow 73, intra-operatively under anaesthesia it was 115 peak and 65-70 mean. Post-op (in OR) it was 34 mean and 61 peak. Recovery echo it was 24 mean and 41 peak (fewer angles). Pre-discharge it was 33 mean and 61 peak. In one post-op summary they say that the mean gradient pre-op was 34 (So, in some studies there was NO improvement in gradient over the AV!) Why did we do surgery if this is the case? Now, it is possible that the gradient they are measuring IS across the AV rather than the entire outflow tract area - perhaps intra-operatively they were measuring the entire obstruction rather than elements of it, although I thought that was only possible on cath. I should look up his cath numbers and see what they say. And of course, we will be able to ask Dr Olson questions on Friday.

Mum and I are hoping to go out for coffee and a pedicure today. Its cheaper than therapy!