Are we breathing?

When John became sick this past year I knew our summer would be spent at home. At the time, I was sad and depressed thinking about all the things Johnny will be missing out on. He won’t be able to attend Summer Camp, missing piano lessons, no more swimming and trips to Chuck E Cheese and McDonald’s for french fries would be limited. As his mom I want more for him. I want him to be able to experience life and enjoy his youth, make friends, play  sports, be happy…

Fast forward three months later, here we are at home adjusting. John and I have been stalking his camp, meeting them on field trips and being a part of the group that he loves so much. We went to the movies, the beach and bowling. I hired a girl to help out so I can run errands, get pedicures and work. She is a music teacher with the Chicago School System. John loves her and she has quickly learned how John works.

Every morning, John and I sit at the kitchen table and eat breakfast, we chat, sing and talk about the weather. Seriously, John is obsessed with the weather and asks every morning about it.

Every afternoon, we do something or nothing. We go bowling, stalk his camp or we sit home and watch TV. This afternoon I came upstairs to write while John watched TV, but we both have our walkie-talkies to keep each other posted on what’s happening in our part of the house.

Three months ago I thought my world was coming to a screeching halt of boredom and sadness. Today, I get to relax with my lil man, sing and write. Far from boredom!

John’s life has a way of slowing my life down and reminding me what is important.

  • Taking time to talk in the mornings
  • Friends and family that take the time to check in on us or visit
  • Living in the present, not worrying about the future
  • Love, without it we have nothing
  • Breathing

Yes, breathing. Part of our routine is also checking his oxygen levels during the day. Its what we say every day, “Take a deep breath John, bring those levels up. Breathe”. It’s what I remind myself to do every day when I am stressed, “Breathe Barbie, everything will work out”. So far, every thing has always worked out…

Chillin with Boss

 

Keep me posted

This afternoon John has a doctor’s appointment with his pulmonary doctor, Dr. Lestrud. He was been following John for 12 years now, since John was born. Our relationship hasn’t always been sunshine and daisies. We have learned having and keeping a doctor is hard, like any relationship.

Back in the day when John was on the vent, oxygen, feeding tube and 13 medications 3X a day I would call Dr. Lestrud my “bad boyfriend”. I needed him in my life, but I wish I didn’t. He never listened to me and doesn’t call me back until I start crying.

It took a few mistakes and steps back for him to start hearing my suggestions. I vividly remember talking to him on the phone one afternoon crying because John was home sick and not improving. I was upset that it took so long for him to call me back. I was upset that the medication he was using wasn’t helping and that he wouldn’t prescribe a steroid to help him. We talked for about 15 minutes, I stopped crying, he apologized for making me feel unimportant and we agreed on a plan moving forward. Which if I remember correctly worked out well. I rarely cried when I called him but this time I had reached a limit. I believe he knew that and took action to make the situation a little easier for us.

Ironically, his wife, who is his 2nd wife, was a nurse in the pediatric intensive care unit (PICU) and took care of John at some point. They have 4 kids together, he has 4 other kids from his first marriage. I often wondered if he was this apologetic as a husband as he was with me that day. But, that would be getting too personal with the doctor.

I’m not saying I was always right. He needed to trust me so he can treat my son and I needed to trust him. There is a balance between what is medically right and what I want. Conversations need to be had, respectfully. I don’t know what medications he needs. But, Dr. Lestrud doesn’t know either unless I can articulate what is happening to John in medical terms, with less emotions. Mom’s with chronically ill kids get a crash course in medical jargon and pick it up quickly.

Over the years I have learned to take the emotion out of my communications. It’s not always easy and I didn’t always do it well. But, I did learn that when I can articulate our needs without crying, name calling or being passive aggressive we get better results. This applies in advocating for education, medical and social needs.

When John first came home from the hospital he was going to at least 5 appointments a month. Every appointment I thought there was going to be some great revelation or milestone. Most cases I was disappointed. Most appointments were the usual nurse’s check in (weigh, temp and blood pressure), sit in the room for almost an hour because they over book, see the doctor for 15 minutes and schedule the next appointment for 3-6 months later.  Eventually we were told to come back in 6 months and that seemed like a milestone. 6month!!! You mean not 3 months???  Yeah!!

Today, we are going to see Dr. Lestrud after 3 months to talk about his oxygen needs. I still think something amazing will come out of this, but deep down the little committee in my head is saying “STOP IT, you know it will be a meet and greet and a “keep me posted on his progress at home” visit.” That’s what I get for knowing my son so well, for advocating for him so well all these years. I get a “keep us posted” from the doctor. (Smile) That sentence seriously gave me butterflies, yes that’s me patting myself on the back, after 12 years. Yes, I am patting myself on the back.

Slow and steady is how we roll

Dr. Lestrud explained what a good wean looks like and we set a plan. Wean the liters from 4 to 3 and see how it goes.  We both agreed we want him to start school in September with or without the oxygen.

Go home and “keep me posted”

ilovebowling
I just wanna bowl!!!!

10 fingers & 10 toes

January 4, 2008 journal entry

Before my son was born all I wanted were ten fingers and ten toes
I asked God to send me the most special child he knows
I never thought about all the rest…
I wanted him to play like little boys do with his tonka toys
Batman shoes, spider webs and blues clues
I wasn’t expecting what was to come
Quickly I learned, with tears in my eyes, what I needed to know
Your child will be broken and slow
Slow to breath, slow to learn, slow to walk, slow to talk
But, not too slow to love
I learned patience and trust in God, I learned about pride and worries
He gave me the beauty of his smile and the love from his heart
I seen his fear, courage and strength through his tears
I was blessed with the miracle of a child
Before my son was born all I wanted were ten fingers and ten toes
I got what I asked for, the most special child God Knows…

April 2005 on ECMO: extracorporeal membrane oxygenation 

Johnny Born

http://emedicine.medscape.com/article/1818617-overview