Tag Archives: scary moments

Transplant Day 1,214 and Tonsils

This is a bit of a catch up post and it may be long. I write today from Patrick’s bedroom. He is lying in bed watching Cars 3 running a Powerade drip into his g-tube on day 5 post tonsillectomy and adenoidectomy.

Patient Zero

How did we get here? Well let’s rewind to the day before Christmas break when I noticed that I had a fever and a horrible neck ache. It likely started with me, though it was Christmas break and I never did get diagnosed with anything more than a virus causing crazy swollen lymph nodes.

The Onset

Mid-January, Patrick got sick. We thought at first it was a cold. He had an ear ache and I took him in to urgent care to be checked with me for an ear infection where we were told it was just one of many viruses, no ear infection. But he got sicker and sicker and on the 3rd day when he refused to eat and I looked and saw the size of his tonsils all covered with white spots, I took him to the pediatrician. She ran a strep test, which came back negative. And we were told again to just go home and wait out the virus.

Sometimes I’m good with that answer. Especially with a kid who’s immune suppressed. But sometimes the mommy spidey sense goes a little crazy. (Ok, ok. It’s actually the extra guidance mothers sometimes get through the Holy Ghost when their children need help.. but we call it mother’s intuition.) Anyway, this time I didn’t feel settled with that answer. So I texted Patrick’s GI and told him what was going on and asked if he had any concerns from a transplant perspective. He called me back almost immediately and told me that he wanted to know what was making Patrick sick so we could stay ahead if it was one of the big viruses that are dangerous for transplant patients.

Diagnosis

So the next morning at 7 a.m. Patrick and I headed up to the hospital’s outpatient clinics where Patrick’s doctor met us and arranged for labwork, an exam, and a viral panel. It was a long morning with a couple of hours of tests. And then we headed home. By evening, all of the preliminary viral tests had come back negative. Despite the brutal flu season, Patrick didn’t have Influenza, RSV, or any of the other circulating respiratory viruses. The doctor said good news. I felt even more at a loss.

Meanwhile, Patrick just kept getting sicker and sicker. We camped out in the basement and I had to start using his g-tube to keep him fed and hydrated. He was miserable. I was exhausted. And I just kept checking for lab results because as the day went on, I became more and more convinced that with everything else ruled out, that Patrick must have the Epstein Barr Virus (EBV), commonly known as Mono.

Sure enough around 4 p.m. the results for that test came back positive. I texted the doctor and said “what’s next?”

Some history

I’m going to take a break in the story here to make a confession. Part of the transplant workup is a very long afternoon where you sit in the room with a transplant nurse and they explain to you in detail all of the risks associated with transplant. You’re aware of a few of them. Of course the risks of surgery. And rejection. Susceptibility to illness. But there is so, so, so much more that comes with immune suppression and transplant. Activity restrictions. Diet restrictions. And perhaps the worst is something called Post-Transplant Lymphoproliferative Disorder (PTLD).

PTLD is caused when a patient who didn’t have EBV before transplant. When they catch this virus the first time while immune suppressed, it can cause the lymphatic system to go a bit crazy. It involves into a form of cancer called lymphoma. So, yeah, transplant can lead to cancer.

And the day that sat us down and talked to us about all of these restrictions and risks, especially this one, we were so overwhelmed by the understanding that the treatment called transplant was much more of a trading in of problems than the cure all the happy ending stories on TV had showed us.. we were so overwhelmed that we couldn’t even stand to talk to anyone that day.

3 years later in another evaluation, we knew this information was coming. But it was still hard to hear and even harder to talk about. So, well, we didn’t. We just warned you that transplant wasn’t a cure.

PTLD workup

Returning to the current story.. I talked to Dr. Jackson in the early evening and he reminded to me that more than my immediate concerns about having a kid with mono, we needed to be thinking about PTLD. I thought we’d set up testing within the next couple of days. But when he called back just after we put an exhausted, sick Patrick to bed to stay he wanted us to come in to be admitted the hospital right away, we were a little caught off guard.

And so we advocated for the value of rest and protection from other illnesses and Dr. Jackson consented to try to set something up outpatient.

But at 5 a.m. he texted and said that admission was the best way to make sure Patrick got in for a CT scan right away. They needed a CT scan of his entire body to check to see if there were signs of PTLD. And he said to prepare to stay for an emergency tonsillectomy.

So that’s what we did. Headed in prepared for the worst and hoping for the best.

Patrick did amazing in CT. We thought he might need to be sedated to hold still. But then decided that he is most cooperative when he’s helped to understand what is going on an given a chance to cooperate. When he feels in control. We got lucky in that we were able to get Patrick’s favorite child life specialist there right on time to go down for the scan with us. And though he was nervous, he was very brave and still.

In the end, the CT scan came back negative for PTLD. (Though it did describe in pretty amazing detail the way that Patrick’s vascular anatomy has changed as a result of his lost central venous access.) So they treated him with an IV antibiotic for a raging ear infection they discovered when he came in. And we got to go home.

Getting better

Patrick actually did get better pretty amazingly from the EBV. His immune suppression is pretty low right now because he’s had no issues with rejection. And so the virus mostly ran its course in a couple of weeks. The blood tests went from virus counts in the tens of thousands to “unquantifable” low levels.  Patrick’s appetite and energy came back. And the doctors agreed that Patrick had had just an acute case of EBV and had fought it off.

However, his tonsils stayed big. Not just a little enlarged. So big that they were touching each other big. So large I couldn’t understand how he could swallow big.

And, well, EBV is a tricky little virus. I’ve learned a lot about it over the past month. And one of the things I’ve learned that there’s a family of viruses that stays forever in our DNA. Chicken Pox, herpes, and EBV. That’s why you only catch them once. That’s why they are sometimes reactivated when we are stressed. (Shingles, cold sores, “mono makes you tired for months!).

And because EBV lives mostly in the tonsils, their not getting smaller was a problem both clinically and because it meant a long-term greater risk of PTLD.

Meeting with ENT

So we scheduled an appointment with an Ear, Nose & Throat doctor who took one look and said there was no doubt. Patrick’s tonsils were huge and even without transplant concerns, they needed to come out.

We didn’t spend the visit discussing the need for tonsillectomy. We spent it talking about the problem of pain control when ibuprofen wasn’t allowed. Because that’s one of those lifetime commitments you make with transplant.

Tonsillectomy and adenoidectomy

So Patrick had his surgery on Thursday. We were told 30-45 minutes for the procedure. That’s what I expected, too. I’ve sat in lots of surgery waiting rooms watching ENT doctors go in and out every 30 minutes as they reported about placing ear tubes and taking out tonsils. I often wished I could be one of those parents whose concerns were as brief and uncomplicated as those parents. I felt a bit arrogant at times that I was the one who knew the waiting room attendant by name. Who came to stay there.

So it was strange to be in that “simple procedure” role. Except that, of course, we weren’t.

The doctor came out after a little more than an hour to finally tell us that the procedure was done. That the tonsils really were huge enough to need to come out and that the adenoids were even bigger. That Patrick was doing well, but there had been some “oozing” that had made the procedure a little more complicated. And that he’d be awake soon.

And then an hour later, when they still didn’t call me back to the PACU, despite our insistence that Patrick needed us there when he woke up of he’d be combative and inconsolable, the phone finally rang for us. It was an OR nurse who explained that Patrick had continued with “oozy” bleeding and they’d spent all that time trying to get it stopped.

So we waited some more and the doctor finally came back out to say that things were finally settled. And he thankfully hadn’t needed a transfusion. In all, the procedure took 2 and a half hours. We were at Patrick’s side to help wake him, and then moved to post-op.

Observation

Patrick was what they call a status A-11. Meaning he wasn’t admitted but he wasn’t discharged. He had 23 hours that he could stay for observation without having to involve the insurance companies for authorization. So we spent the night in Post-Op Recovery.

Patrick was really inconsolable as he first woke up. He just cried and whimpered and wouldn’t talk. Would barely open his eyes. Finally, I left the room to go to the bathroom and as I listened, I realized he wasn’t as much in pain as he was just angry. So I tried a crazy approach where I came in and told him to stop pouting. Then tried to distract him. I made him start taking sips of water despite protest then pointed out that it helped more than it hurt.

It amazingly worked. His anesthesia wore off. His pain meds kicked in. And he woke up sore but pretty happy. We ordered dinner and he wanted some. And soon he’d eaten 3 yogurt cups and drunk some Kids Boost. But the anesthesia made him nauseous and he couldn’t keep much down.

The night was rough. We turned on the movie channel and let it play all night and would doze off and wake again. Eventually as the anesthesia wore off his pain overwhelmed his hunger and he stopped eating. He’d fall asleep but the swelling in his airway made it so his oxygen levels would fall and the monitors would alarm and wake him again. Or he’d start coughing. And his temperature started to creep up very slowly.

But we made it through the night. Post-Op was so very quiet. Our nurse was great. And by morning, I thought we were in pretty good shape. I even though we might beat the odds and go home at 23 hours after all.

And more observation

When ENT came to check in, they decided they’d like to take a little more time to observe. So they moved us to a big comfy room in the surgical unit. And we watched. And what we saw wasn’t exactly comforting.

Not having ibuprofen was proving to be problematic. See, ibuprofen is an anti-inflammatory and inflammation is a big issue with tonsillectomy. It can cause fevers. It can cause airway narrowing. And of course, there’s the problem of finding a balance with pain control when you have to use an opiod.

It took the whole day and night to get a handle on using the g-tube to keep him hydrated and his gut moving, to figure out how to help his cough and keep his saturation up. And to make sure the fever wasn’t getting worse.

They did a chest x-ray to rule out pneumonia. But did advise us that with that long of a procedure, Patrick’s lungs would need help to refill the air sacs.

Home again

But after a second night, we finally reached a stable baseline and headed home. The first day home Patrick was just exhausted. He fell asleep anytime he held still. Wherever he was. They warned us day 3 is the most painful and, well, it was.

Yesterday, he started to perk up a little after a good night sleep. I finally was able to convince him to start sipping some water. And he even ate a little bit of macaroni and cheese. Which wore him out.

But he started to play and tease a little bit. It was good to see his smile back. And our bird, Max, followed him everywhere he went.

He fell asleep by 5 p.m. But that’s good as his cough has gotten worse again overnight. But his pain is a little less, he’s more awake. And before I finished this post, he happily though tentatively ate some KFC mac and cheese for lunch.

This recovery is a slow process. And unfortunately, Patrick’s having to do it the hard way. As caregiver, I am very tired. Sleep, food, and personal care have been hard to come by.

But we’re getting there. And it’s only supposed to last 7-10 days.

And on the other side, my son is acting completely loving and smitten with us, instead of his usual independence seeking self. I’m going to soak up every minute of a cuddly loving boy who just wants to be with me. Because soon he’s going to really be too big to hold on my lap for half an hour.

I hope to post more updates. But remember, as always with this blog. Usually the times I’m quietest are the times that are calm. If I’m not writing, it probably means that we’re busy and happy.

Make-a-Wish anniversary and Star-raising ceremony

It’s been one year since Make-a-Wish Utah granted Patrick a trip to Disneyland. When I look back, in some ways it’s hard to believe a year has passed. But mostly, that seems like an eternity ago. So very much has changed in a year.

I’ll be honest. We have known for most of Patrick’s life that he was eligible for a wish. You don’t end up on a transplant list, really, unless your condition is considered otherwise terminal. But we were trying to put that off as long as possible. We wanted Patrick to understand that he was being given a wish. We wanted it to mean something. To not feel wasted on some passing childhood interest. And, more than anything, to be something he’d remember doing.

But two years ago, early in September, Patrick’s central line clotted, sprung a leak and was infected. They had to pull it, but then the surgeon couldn’t get a new one into place. We informed the transplant team of the difficulty. And they took his name off of the transplant list. Without a place for a central line above his heart, the transplant surgery would be impossible.

Patrick in recover after having a line placed in Omaha September 2013

Patrick in recover after having a line placed in Omaha September 2013

We’d known that scarred veins was a problem nutritionally. But we didn’t realize that it made the transplant surgery impossible. And we realized that we were at the end of a road.

The transplant team told us to get on a plane right away and we flew out to Omaha where some very brilliant and very brave doctors managed to get a new central line in place. But now we knew. We were that close to losing the only treatment option that didn’t end in Patrick eventually running out of good veins and starving to death.

And so – we made a palliative care and hospice plan. And we put in a request for Patrick to Make a Wish.

A year later, we headed to Orlando, Florida. That week was one of the most magical in our lives. We stayed at the amazing Give Kids the World Resort. We were given the royal treatment at Disneyworld and Universal Studios. We chased down characters for Patrick to meet. We rode roller coasters.

Checking in at Give Kids the World

Checking in at Give Kids the World

In the village, we celebrated off-season Halloween and Christmas, rode ponies, took carousel rides at almost every meal. We ate ice cream for breakfast. We ordered Patrick’s his first whole pizza. (Made entirely allergy safe and delivered to our door.) We raised a star in Patrick’s honor.

There is no way to describe in words what a wish trip is like. Honestly, other wishes sound cool. But the reason this one is so popular is that it is the ONLY thing like it.

Every child who is granted a wish by our chapter of Make-a-Wish raises a glass star to the ceiling of the Make-a-Wish building. Family and friends are invited for a special ceremony.

We never imagined that, before we’d be home long enough from our trip to schedule the star-raising ceremony. Yet, found myself on the phone with Patrick’s wish granters the day after his transplant telling them just that. We’d need to reschedule.

Because of recovery time and immune suppression, we actually didn’t get around to that star-raising party until just last month. The experience was kind of surreal.

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Patrick, one of his wish-granters, and his McQueen and Mater cake.

Being so much later, it was a bit nostalgic to be back in that building. They took Patrick’s guests on a tour of the building like the one we’d received when he made his wish. And then, they let him use his magic key to open the wishing room in their castle tower. We reenacted a bit for them what had happened as he made his wish.

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Decorating his star

When Patrick made his wish a year and a half ago, they invited grandparents and parents to make a wish on his behalf. Brian and I made what we felt were practical wishes.. For Patrick to live a happy and full life. (Knowing that it might be short.) Grandparents wished for Patrick to receive his transplant. And, honestly, I thought to myself, “I’m so sorry we’ve misled you. Patrick has waited too long. He’s been listed for most of his life. Almost a year and a half at the center that had promised a match before a year was over. It’s too late. That is why he is making this wish.”

And yet, last month there we were… standing in that same room. Patrick free from IV’s and most tube feeds. Having just gorged himself on McQueen cake. Transplant done. In essence, made whole.

I am a witness that prayers are answered. Miracles are real. Wishes come true.

Because we live in a mortal world where test and trial are necessary for our growth, that doesn’t mean that things are perfect. Perfection is something for the next life. But God’s power is very, very real.

We owe a great debt of gratitude to the wonderful people at Make-a-Wish for the unbelievable gift that they gave to us. To the angels at Give Kids the World to helped to make it come true.

Patrick decorated a glass star and then used a string and pulley to raise it to the ceiling. Fitting his style, they said he raised the start faster than any child they’ve ever seen. Almost not giving time to notice the lyrics to this song that they played. Almost. Which is good, because if you were listening it brought tears to your eyes.

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When you wish upon a star
Makes no difference who you are
Anything your heart desires
Will come to you.

If your heart is in your dream
No request is too extreme
When you wish upon a star
As dreamers do.

Fate is kind
She brings to those who love
The sweet fulfillment of
Their secret longing

Like a bolt out of the blue
Suddenly, it comes to you
When you wish upon a star
Your dreams come true

First grade

 

Well, Patrick’s been in first grade for 3 weeks now. I love seeing him becoming comfortable at school. He loves his teacher. He has been matched with a very good aide. He’s making friends in his class. I think the work is just challenging enough. So far, things are going well.

It wasn’t our smoothest start. When the official first day of school in the district rolled around and Patrick didn’t go because they weren’t ready, I took it harder than I expected. Not only was I beyond tired at that point, but I felt a little left behind. We did our best to make sure that Patrick didn’t know the difference. And thank goodness his respite provider was trying to pick up extra hours before leaving for school because she came and kept him company that few extra days.

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Back to school shopping - breakfast date a Dunkin Donuts

Back to school shopping – breakfast date a Dunkin Donuts

I also decided that if you can’t be in school when everyone else is, you might as well take advantage of it. Patrick Make-a-Wish trip came with free passes to several amusement parks for a year from the date of his trip. Including one near home. So I hinted, maybe even begged, Brian to take the afternoon off of work and we went to play at Lagoon.

We did it kind of spontaneously so we surprised Patrick with it. I don’t think he knew that we had roller coasters close to home. He could have stayed all day. In fact, used to Disneyland 3-day-passes, he was a little confused when we left and didn’t come back the next day.

He was a little skittish after trying the regular “white” roller coaster.. a good old fashioned wooden rollercoaster. So kiddie-land was his cup of tea. Especially when he got to “drive a car” all by himself. I think he’d have stayed on that one ride all day. We stayed till we got tired and cold from being wet from the water rides.

 

And eventually, Monday morning did come and Patrick got to go back to school. I spent most of the first couple of days going back and forth training the school staff. They were very nervous about lunch and potty and g-tube medications and allergies. So I’d come back at lunch and for mini training sessions. And I think I eventually helped them see that what we were asking is new but not really hard. And, honestly, not really necessary most of the time.

I think Patrick’s doing pretty darn well at school. We all wondered how he’d take being away from home for 7 hours a day. That is probably the hardest thing. He comes home exhausted every day. He had been used to a mandatory afternoon rest time and he’s not getting that right now.

He’s also starving when he gets home to me. I think he’s doing pretty well eating away from me for the first time. But sometimes the temptation of friends and recess is great and he hurries through lunch. Thankfully, his education plan includes snack times and a water bottle at his desk and he’s doing ok with those things. But I’m not surprised that he’s lost a little bit of weight since school started and I’m not certain that we’re going to make the goal of 100% oral eating this month. (It’s hard when we are 95% there!)

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On Patrick’s 3rd day of school, some kids dropped a box labeled “bomb” on the front porch. The school put the kids in lockdown and the school was swarmed with emergency vehicles. Everyone was ok. I watched from across the street at my grandpa’s.

But we’re starting to get a routine regardless. Patrick’s school starts late so there is time for me to make sure he gets a good breakfast at home before we leave. If we’re really on point, we even get to the school with a little time for him to play on the playground. Then we visit the potty and then take Patrick to computer lab. Because of the breakfast in the classroom program, I drop Patrick off there so he misses that extra allergy risk.

After school, Patrick expects me to be waiting with a piece of string cheese. We are finding that letting him have a single small portion of dairy once a day seems to be the right balance and he’s in love with string cheese. Then we drive home and he gets to snack and play and rest however he chooses. Lately, his preference is to play in the yard with his ride-on car and bike and hope that the little boy across the street will come join him. But some days he’s tired and so we snuggle up on the beanbag in the basement and watch TV.

After dinner, we buckle down and do his homework. We’re trying to figure out the right balance between making him practice writing and making sure he doesn’t get frustrated. Dyspraxia, or motor impairment from Patrick’s brain injury, makes writing frustrating sometimes. Especially when he’s tired. But with a mix of stamps and tracing we usually make it through.

So far, he’s putting up with math better than I’m used to. They’re working on writing numbers and counting right now. Basically, he’s working in the math book he started but didn’t get a chance to finish last year. This is good. I’m wishing I’d realized I had access to that when we were in Nebraska because it gives a better foundation.. But at least he’s getting it now.

They’ve put Patrick the medium level reading group at school. He’s still got some to make up from kindergarten there, too. But he has a real knack for it. He is reading me little sight word/rebus readers every night right now without any hesitation. And he aced his last spelling test.

One day Patrick asked me if he could draw logos. I said sure, thinking it was fun to pretend. So he drew me the Jeep logo.

One day Patrick asked me if he could draw logos. I said sure, thinking it was fun to pretend. So he drew me the Jeep logo.

The biggest struggle right now is the potty at school. Because Patrick knows how to push through being uncomfortable, he seems to be having little problem with the idea of holding it for the entire school day. At first, he was just making it till his aide left at 2. But I put him leakier pull-ups. One accident and he started waiting for me to come at 3:30.

I started praying for a solution and the Lord sent a very interesting solution. A stomach bug.

We went to Denver for Brian’s nephew’s baptism. And on the 2nd night there, Patrick woke up at 1:30 a.m. and asked me to take him to the potty. Note: Patrick has historically had pretty big anxiety about unfamiliar potties. So that really surprised me.

The next day, that kind of became the story of the day. Trips to the potty. Lots and lots of trips to the potty. My knees were sore from all the trips up and down stairs and kneeling on the floor.

We were pretty worried about this. Diarrhea is a REALLY bad thing for intestinal transplant patients. It can mean rapid dehydration. It can mean developmental setbacks. And it can be a sign of rejection.

We should have been comforted that Patrick ran no fevers. At first we were. I was pretty certain that his upset stomach was a side effect of my letting him try both whipped cream and sour cream in the same day. But to the transplant team, no fevers made the odds of rejection higher. His symptoms lasted almost a week before improving and we had lots of conversations with his wonderful GI here as well as the transplant team in Nebraska. Thankfully, his labwork stayed stable. And I’m pretty proud of our ability to keep up with hydration using pedialyte through his g-tube.

Then, a few days in, I came down with the bug too. Who knew I’d ever be grateful for catching illnesses from my son. But it tells us when something is contagious and not malignant. And so far, I think it means that he gets to miss the opportunity of a sedated biopsy.

Patrick missed a couple of days of school because of being sick. But at least for me, he started using the potty there. And if he at least will go when I drop him off and pick him up, that’s one hour less of him just trying not to go. He’s gone for other teachers, too. Just not his aide.

He doesn't get much rest, but when he does, he crashes these days.

He doesn’t get much rest, but when he does, he crashes these days.

As for me… well, I don’t think I have the hang of things personally yet. I’m struggling to figure out how to work in appointments with school. Patrick’s had two half-days missed to go to appointments and subsequent make-up work. Plus make-up work for sick days. I’m grateful that his teacher sends the work home so that he doesn’t fall behind. But he’s not so much of a fan of the extra homework.

I’m not sure quite what to do with myself during the day, either. The first couple of days. I did nothing. Binged on Netflix. Ate foods that I wouldn’t make with Patrick home. (That first lunch that I didn’t have to consider Patrick’s food was a strange feeling.)

Did I mention we bought our hockey season tickets this month? We moved our seats to the nosebleeds for Patrick.

Did I mention we bought our hockey season tickets this month? We moved our seats to the nosebleeds for Patrick.

I’m doing some better quality scripture study for the first time in a while. I’ve even got a study notebook that I’m writing in. I’ll admit, though that I tried going back to traditional paper scriptures and I’m too hooked on the features of electronic study on my phone or tablet. It’s too nice to follow a footnote with a link or search a thought on the internet and find more information on it. Plus, I’m building a pretty nice little electronic annotation library of my own. (Seriously, look into the LDS Gospel Library App sometime. It’s got so much more in it than just fitting the whole Bible, Book of Mormon, and sunday school and institute manuals in your pocket.)

Some days I’m diligent and work on cleaning. I still feel wholly in over my head there. We have deep cleaning projects left from the summer before transplant. But I’m doing my best to chip away at it.  I’m doing much better keeping up on the regular cleaning and the yard work. I’ve cleaned out a few cupboards. Cataloged surplus medical supplies to donate. Canned tomatoes. Practiced the piano. Gone for walks. Finished a book. Filed medical bills and spent a lot of time on the phone making sure the last of what’s left from this spring is squared away.

A lot of my days have still been devoted to taking care of Patrick so I haven’t really scratched the surface of what I dreamed of doing with this time.

But today – well, today I decided it was time to update the blog. I’ve put it off too long. And when I get behind, it’s always harder to write. Because I know the post will end up long like this.

I dream of a schedule where I have blogging day and laundry day and volunteer at the school day and regular exercise and study and visits with family. Maybe someday.

Transplant Day 219, a fire and the cable guy

The Sunday after we got home from Nebraska was busy. Patrick was definitely still feeling stressed and sore. His primary (children’s sunday school) lesson at home was a total bust and ended abruptly with him getting out of control and then him asking his teacher to end early. He was so out of sorts that Brian just kept him home from church. And most of the rest of the day was spent just kind of trying to just help keep him calm and happy.

So, when Brian was away at church meetings in the evening and Patrick got restless, we went to visit family. And when I got home and the internet was out, I decided to just let it be till the expert got home to check it out. Usually, our server just needs rebooted.

This time, however, the problem was much bigger. Brian went looking for problems when the server and modem seemed ok. He didn’t expect to discover the cable box mounted on the house to be missing.

That’s right. Missing.

While Patrick and I were gone that evening, our cable box caught fire, fell off the house, and melted on the ground. It singed our siding. It melted a sprinkler. And then it burned out. Thank goodness.

cable-fire

I know now what happened, but that night couldn’t imagine how a cable signal box (a.k.a. pedestal) could simply self-ignite. There were burned cables hanging. And I was freaked.

I called Comcast, but got a call center who knows where. There is apparently nothing in the customer service script about what to do in the case of fire. And with the fire out and it being 10 at night, it didn’t seem right to call 911. So I made an appointment for the next day at 1. Then, I made an appeal for someone to come earlier and that somehow made them erase the appointment. Only they didn’t say so.

So the next day, I stayed home and waited for the cable company. When they didn’t come, I started calling. I called 4 times. They had a 12 year old phone number in their records. They kept failing to remove that number from their records. They were having a supervisor call me. Or a special ticket created. Or a field research supervisor. No one called back. No one came. Lesson learned – if you have a problem with a cable box fire, report your service is out. That is the fastest and most efficient way to get help. Don’t mention the fire. They don’t have a solution available for that.

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Anyway – meanwhile Brian was supposed to fly to Norway the next day for work. So here we were, trying to get ready for him to leave town. No phone (we use VoIP). No internet. No streaming video. (A problem for Patrick.) And me spending all day on the phone trying to get someone sent out.

Tuesday morning, I finally got the fire department to come and look at the damage. They explained that the fault was likely an ungrounded power meter. With our house not grounded, a surge of electricity had used the cable line as a ground.

And without any resolution, I put Brian on a plane to Europe.

That evening, I got an electrician here. He confirmed that our house had somehow lost its neutral and used the cable line as a ground, causing the box to overheat and burn. He also quoted me the cost of grounding the house. A day without power, a building permit and inspection.. and a hefty dollar price tag, too. I told him I’d get back to him when my husband landed so I could talk to him about the budget.

Wednesday, a friend who had previously worked for Comcast intervened on my behalf. I’d finally gotten a Friday appointment to come investigate the outage. My friend got someone to come out and fix the cable. He replaced the box and ran new cable from the pole, since the existing cable had been melted inside.

Thursday, I got a sprinkler guy here to replace the melted head so I could turn my sprinklers back on. With highs in the 90’s, I wasn’t keeping up with watering.

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And finally yesterday, we had the electrician come to replace the meter. The work went smoothly. There was a breakdown of communication between the building inspector and the power company and it was nearly bedtime before we got power back on.

It felt like an especially big burden to take on by myself while my husband was out of town. I am so grateful for friends and family who stepped in to help out with charging, shared wifi, advice, phone calls, referrals, keeping Patrick entertained and other help. I really did feel in over my head. Especially trying to keep Patrick safely away from the downed lines and the workmen all week and juggling his needs with the time required to make phone calls and get things fixed.

Patrick is still mad at me that I haven’t washed the scorch marks off the wall yet. But there are definitely more important things, and safer things, than getting up on a ladder with him “helping” to do that job.

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Meanwhile, you may have noticed that the blog was down. Sorry about that. When Comcast restored service, they reset our IP. They aren’t big fans of hosting your own websites on a home internet account. So it took getting the professional, Brian, back home to get things up and running again.

 

 

Transplant Day 149 and how liver enzymes meant a weekend in the hospital

Hello from “The Hotel on the Hill.” If you are new to our blog, this is the nickname for Primary Children’s Hospital which is situated in the foothills of the Wasatch mountains on the edge of the Salt Lake Valley.

We have been here since yesterday afternoon. Here’s why.

A few weeks ago, Patrick’s nurse checked his temperature when he came to draw his morning labwork and it was a little high. Later that day, his labwork showed elevated liver enzymes and a slightly higher white count. These two signs together usually mean an illness and we thought that maybe Patrick had a bit of a stomach bug. The numbers stayed high for a couple of days, then went back down. We called Nebraska Medicine and they said they would check some viral studies to see if something was brewing. No one seemed too concerned.

For the past several weeks, this pattern has repeated itself. Once or twice a week, Patrick’s temperature has gone up. His liver enzymes go up. Sometimes his white count goes up. Sometimes it doesn’t. And Patrick never got sick. And no one ever seemed really worried.

Well, this Tuesday, when they checked Patrick’s labs, his liver enzymes were up by almost 100 points. His white count was normal this time. His temperature was 99.7. He was acting fine. But they also finally got around to those viral studies which showed no concern for the viruses they suspected might be to blame. Also, Patrick’s prograf level was a touch high and the transplant team decided to drop his dose by half.

I texted Patrick’s local doctor, Dr. Jackson, to let him know about the change and that night he called me.  He suggested that the one other thing we hadn’t checked for was infection in Patrick’s central line.. maybe some small amount of bacteria seeded there. So the next morning Patrick’s home nurse came by and drew cultures and repeated liver enzymes and prograf levels. The liver tests came back pretty early. The enzymes that had been high were the same, but another marker was now up, too.  And Saturday morning, as we were getting ready for the day, we got a call from the GI fellow on call who said that Patrick had tested positive for a line infection.

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Well, Patrick was still feeling fine. So we asked if we could still take him to the Make-a-Wish easter egg hunt we had gotten him up early for. Then I called Dr. Jackson to figure out how exactly to proceed. We talked about starting treatment at home, but Patrick needed some vancomycin.. a drug we have a love/hate relationship with because it clears infections, but Patrick’s pretty allergic to. It gives him a rash, so he has to have benadryl. It also makes his belly quite sick and we didn’t know how a new gut would take it.

So, we made a plan to bring Patrick inpatient for the weekend while we start antibiotics and figure out what comes next.

Because he is still so soon after transplant, we are making our first stay in the cancer/transplant unit, or immune compromised unit. (ICS). At first, I was worried they might kick us out after we went through all the work to make an infection-risk-minimal admission. They don’t accept transplant patients after the initial immune suppression and they didn’t know us and thought maybe someone was sneaking us in. But once they heard “5 months since transplant” it was ok.

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They are experts with central lines here, which is nice. They don’t do g-tubes or ethanol locks often, though. Apparently only short gut and related GI diagnoses get the full gammut like we do. So there’s still some teaching to do.

The nice thing is that they keep the rooms super duper clean and, really, the nursing staff here is in general a little more experienced.  The techs are really on the ball making sure things are cleaned up, diapers charted, extra food collected, teeth brushes, baths given, etc. There are things in this unit that I would have killed for in Nebraska. Like washing machines down the hall. (Last night Patrick had a diaper leak and they just showed me to the washing machines so I could clean it up.) And bathtubs. Patrick was very excited to take a bath here this morning. And needleless hubs with scrub caps and a policy of scrubbing the hub for a full 15 seconds and then letting it dry.

The room is smaller, but these rooms feel like home. And the parent bed is comfy. And the view is spectacular. And the cafeteria is just downstairs and still serves most of our comfort foods, even though they’ve just remodeled.

So it’s different, but it’s home.

This has been a very long week. We are all very tired. Monday night, my cell phone rebooted and wouldn’t load its operating system afterwards. Brian plugged away at it every chance he got, but there was no fixing the problem. So I had a few panicked days where I could see abnormal labs but couldn’t text as I normally do to communicate with Patrick’s medical team. Thankfully, Google has amazing customer service and pulled off a warranty exchange before Friday.

Tuesday night, I started to get an ache at the back of my throat. I hoped it was allergies, but was pretty sure it was a cold. I woke up sure I was sick. So I masked and gloved up, stripped and washed all my bedding, did as much laundry as possible, clorox wiped everything in sight and just tried to muddle through with as little exposure to Patrick as possible. It took round the clock mask-wearing, lots of handwashing, lots of running outside or to another room to sneeze or cough of blow my nose, and lots of picnic lunches (so I could eat without breathing near him) to get through the week. Thank goodness family was in town visiting. Two nights in a row, Brian took Patrick to dinner with his family, leaving me home to rest, clean, eat, and breathe mask-free.

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I was still sick and masked yesterday when we came up here. I was almost afraid they wouldnt’ let us into this unit with me sick… but I’m following the same precautions the rest of the staff here does so it turns out it was ok.

Thank goodness I am better today, though. My ears are so tender from wearing a mask all day and night that I can barely stand to wear my glasses and putting a mask on this morning to walk Patrick to the playroom almost made me cry.

It hasn’t been a better week for Brian, either. Coming home from work and taking Patrick away immediately is not easy for him. And he has some some busy weeks, preparing for some organizational changes heading his way.

So we were beyond grateful yesterday morning when Patrick’s doctor asked if we’d like to wait and come into the hospital at 1:00. We had promised and easter egg hunt and we had a great time. Make a Wish throws a great party and no one looks twice at you wearing masks and gloves and not eating any candy. Patrick was so very excited to meet the Easter Bunny. We got his face painted. We had a great time in line with the clown making balloon animals. (Have I mentioned Patrick loves clowns?)  The egg hunt was only mildly interesting to him. He gets tired walking still and so running around hunting eggs wasn’t the most exciting idea.

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The eggs were filled with candy and Patrick was a bit disappointed. But we knew we were headed to the hospital and were feeling generous and Brian had a coupon. So, we offered to let Patrick trade his candy for a prize and we headed to the Disney store.

We talked briefly about heading home and doing our chores but opted for some family fun time instead. We started at the Disney store where Patrick picked out a Mickey Mouse train set. Then we went to a built-to-order pizza restaurant and let Patrick design a cheeseless pizza. He loved it and scarfed it down and packed up his leftovers to go.

We left the mall and went for a walk around Temple Square. If you’ve never seen the gardens at Temple Square around the time of LDS conference you should, Especially in spring. They are amazing! Tulips and fountains and pansies and flowering trees raining white petals everywhere.
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Patrick did what all little boys do… walked the borders of every fountain and ran away and climbed up into the bronze statues.

And then, it was time to come up to the hospital.

And it was strange being admitted to a new place that is different but familiar. We had an ok night. Patrick didn’t nap on schedule. Not a surprise. But after they gave him benadryl at 5, his eyelids got droopy.

I turned on a broadcast of the LDS Women’s Conference right after Brian left to go get things cleaned up and packed up at home. They started off with a video presentation of a song that Patrick knows from church, The Family is of God. View the video here. Knowing he loves these things, I pulled him up on my lap to watch. He snuggled right down and his eyelids started to droop. The song ended and I told him to stay cuddled and I’d get him a show on his tablet. Well, his tablet was slow and before I had a show loaded, he was asleep. He slept on my lap for 2 hours. I got to bask in a quiet evening of gospel and sisterhood and uplifting messages about the importance of motherhood and womanhood and family. The entire conference is available to watch, read, or listen to here. Largest women’s conference in the world. Totally worthwhile and inspiring if you have time.

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And then, he woke up was very mellow the rest of the evening. We watched movies, played with syringes, cuddled on the bed. At 11, he seemed tired enough finally to sleep so I turned out the lights and he was out in 5 minutes. He slept all night except for diaper changes and woke up with the sun. (Much to my chagrin).

Rounds came early this morning. They said that he had immediately responded to antibiotics and his liver numbers were already trending down. No cultures have grown out, though, from the labs drawn right before antibiotics were started and we can’t quite explain it. The doctor suggested that another option for the off liver numbers being bacteria from Patrick’s gut gettiing into his liver through the gastric bypass created at transplant. I guess we’ll explore that more.

But the long story short is that Patrick seems to be responding well to treatment and shouldn’t be hospitalized long. And we’ll have more conversations about the cause of the problem and the fate of his line in the future.

It’s been a quiet Sunday. Patrick is so much calmer in the hospital now. I don’t know if that’s from practice being in the hospital and entertaining himself alone or because his sensory processing disorder is less of a problem since transplant or because his nurse last night started giving him all the used syringes and passed along in report to continue doing so and he has like 30 of them now, plus extensions to connect them to and that always keeps him happy. But he’s quiet and once we’d all had a nap we were all happier.

That was a lot of story to tell. I really should blog more often so you don’t have as much back story to read through. Oh well.

“Do you know deep in your heart that your Heavenly Father loves you and desires you and those you love to be with Him? Just as Heavenly Father and His Son, Jesus Christ are perfect, their hopes for us are perfect. Their plan for us is perfect, and Their promises are sure.” – Carole M Stephens, Relief Society General Presidency, LDS General Women’s Conference, October 2015

 

Transplant Day 132 and a follow-up visit in Nebraska

I am writing from the window seat of a room in the Omaha Ronald McDonald House. Today marked 1 month since they told us that he could go home to Utah. And so, today, he had a follow up visit to see how things are going.

It’s been an interesting few days. First of all, can I say how much it broke my poor little brain to try to pack for this trip? Travelling with TPN was hard. It took lots of big luggage and days of coordinating Fedex deliveries and special planning and packing for airport screening. In the past, I brought every suitcase we own packed to the 50 lb limit and also have at least 4 boxes shipped. This time, well, what I needed to bring was not iV supplies. It was formula. And food. I had to pack snacks.

i got everything gathered to put into suitcases and I looked around and I had too many suitcases. And the problem flustered me so much that I had to just go to bed and sleep on it. I had nightmares about not being properly packed. Then, I got up in the morning and I filled the extra space in one suitcase with pillows and blankets and I decided that we didn’t really need one bag as a diaper bag and another one to carry my electronics and medicines. And none of the bags weighed over 40 pounds. And it was all ok.

In fact, it was easier to get to the airport. Brian had flown in and out of this city enough times to know which flights would be fuller and have a busier airport and did a great time picking us a slow time in the airport. Patrick and I donned masked. (I wore one so Patrick wouldn’t feel so alone).. and i gave him a new pair of touch screen capable gloves. And we strode into the airport not struggling under the weight of overfilled bags.

Brian also had applied for TSA precheck status which meant screening for him and Patrick went much more easily. I still had to go through a regular line which felt, well… very strange. To leave them and go off on my own. But things were simpler. Patrick’s many medications had to be checked in the mass spectrometer.. but that is so much simpler than checking a cooler of IV fluids that they still were done by the time I got to them. They’d have beaten me had they not decided to let Patrick be screened in his wheelchair/stroller.

The flight was difficult. Patrick really has a hard time not playing with the window shade and keeping his feet off of the feet in front of him. Under normal circumstances, you can redirect this. But his steroids make it very hard to change Patrick’s mind once an idea enters them and we had a few stretches where I just had to hold onto him to keep him from hitting the seats around us until he settled down. It wasn’t all that way, though. He ordered himself a “diet water” from the flight attendant and had a happy snack time and we played with stickers and some mommy school games I’d laminated and brought along. Patrick’s desire to learn still overpowers most other things. And thankfully, the flight was only 2 hours anyway.

We rented a van and drove to the Ronald McDonald House. It was strange to be back and feel so at home here. Before out of state clinic visits were big adventures in new places. Now, well.. this is just a second home. Patrick, in fact, loves pointing out that we are coming home when we come back to the Ronald McDonald House each time we do. He is very mad at me that we are not restocking the fridge with his favorite foods and are eating out instead.

However, I like him eating out. He figured out he likes hamburgers last week and I love seeing him eat half of a hamburger plus some fries when we get him a kids meal.

We are aiming for a more vacation-like trip. Last night we went out and explored a shopping district called Old Market that we heard about but didn’t brave in the cold. It’s kind of a cool atmosphere. Like a toned down Pikes Market in Seattle, but with fewer people. And well patrolled by police. They allow street musicians, but not others begging on the corner.. so you could enjoy that ambiance of that little addition. It is warm here and nice to be out.

We did stop at the store for a few snacks and staples (and some sugar-free soynut butter that I haven’t been able to find in Salt Lake). And we stayed up snacking while waiting for meds time, even though Patrick was far too tired and overexcited about being here.

Today’s been a really nice day. In the 70’s, so we have been able to be out in short sleeves. We have never caught nice weather in Omaha before. We got up with the sun, as Patrick always does.. and made it out to go to the zoo early. We really love this zoo and find something new each time. This time it was the otters that caught his fancy. He didn’t like the sea lion training, though we did. And he was tired and wanted to go back to the room early, but we didn’t let him.

I’ve been tired today. At midnight last night, as I refilled Patrick’s formula feeds, I noticed that I’d left the charger for his feeding pump home. And I tossed and turned worrying about it all night. Trying to think who I could borrow from and what it would take to get homecare set up again in this city for just a few days. It was top priority this morning. It wasn’t hard to fix. I made a call to our homecare company who said that they often will lend chargers to people in a similar situation. So I called Children’s Home Health, the company we used while we were here, and explained the situation. They said no problem and to come pick up a pump. I signed a form saying we’d pay if it wasn’t returned and they gave me an envelope to return it in since they won’t have open offices the day we leave. And that was that. Easy peasy and why did I worry so much?

Oh well..

Patrick’s clinic appointment was this afternoon. That was also easy peasy. We checked in and there was some confusion about insurance now that we are more than 3 months after transplant.. but they voted in the end to leave that for the financial folks to sort out. We weighed Patrick in and he’s gained again.. and even 22 kilos, or almost 50 pounds.

The doctor we saw today was the surgeon who did Patrick’s transplant, Dr. Grant. This made me very happy. Not only does she, literally, know him inside out but we really seem to click as far as philosophy of care. She said that he was doing remarkably well and to keep on this same path. They were happy to hear he was eating and the dietitian adjusted his feeds again so that he’ll have 8 hours without tubes in a day… I had to promise to keep him drinking in that time so he stays hydrated.

Dr. Grant asked what we were doing about school. We confessed that we hadn’t dared send him back yet and were setting up home school instead. She actually seemed pleased with this answer.. she kept saying “It’s only been 4 months.” Pointing out that it’s easy to overlook how new this all is because he doesn’t have an ostomy or a feeding tube in his nose as most kids do this short time after. She started out recommending summer school or back to school in fall.. then conceded that maybe sending him back sometime after spring break so he can finish this year with his same friends and teacher would be a good idea.

After his physical exam, she pointed out some stitches we could have removed next time he’s sedated. And she said that she doesn’t think he still needs any physical restrictions. Monkey bars here he comes.

And then she said the words we’d dreaded. “So what do we do with this central line?” I decided to just speak my mind. I told her that we were ok with him not needing a line, but worried removing the one he has given how hard it was to put in and the chance of losing that access. I said this once before to another surgeon and was told I was being overly conservative. But Dr. Grant suggested just what I had imagined as the best solution in my mind: A port. This is a central line but one that stays under the skin except when it’s needed. There’s a small disk that can be accessed with a needle.

The nice thing about it is that it isn’t as prone to infection as a broviac line. It won’t need a dressing and he’ll be able to bathe and swim and get dirty.  Also, it means that Patrick’s labs will be easier to draw and less painful, since they can numb the site. The disadvantage is that it’s still a central line and runs a risk of infection and needs careful monitoring for fevers.

We made a plan to come back after the end of the school year and have them change Patrick’s broviac line for a port. We’ll leave that for a little while longer till we know it’s safe, and then remove it.

We won’t need to come back to Nebraska until then. Oh, and labs can now be once a week.

So overall.. still good news.

And now it is on with our mini-vacation. We have had a snack and a nap and are now headed over to the hospital for movie night.. then back here where some nice church ladies are cooking us a turkey dinner.

I don’t want to delay the fun, so pictures will have to come in a later post.

Transplant Day 60 and A Farewell to Louie

I’m blogging from the surgery waiting room and hoping that I can finish this before the surgeon comes out as it appears that they are closing right now.

It’s been an exciting 18 hours. First of all, let’s do a review lesson.

Patrick had an ostomy created at transplant. “Ostomy” means “outward thingy” in layman’s terms. In Patrick’s case, it means that they pulled a little bit of his new intestine out through his abdominal wall and put a couple of small holes in it. The purpose of this was to make it easier to do biopsies. Rather than needing to sedate him to look into his intestine with a scope, since there are no pain nerves in the intestine, they could take off the pouch covering the ostomy, insert a small camera and look at the intestine.. then they could take a small biopsy and screen for rejection. Patrick has had this done 3 times since transplant. So far there are no signs of rejection.

I read in some article while Patrick was recovering a suggestion to name your child’s ostomy. It makes it more approachable. It gives you a kind of code-word to talk about it in public. After much debate, we named Patrick’s ostomy Louie.

Well, Louie had a problem last night. I’m not sure exactly when or how. Probably sometime around dinner Patrick started to guard the way he was moving. Not bending over. Not wanting to sit. And I, in all my brilliance, didn’t think to check and see why. I assumed Louie’s bag was getting full.

Well, at 8:45 I went to give Patrick his medications and get him ready for bed. I asked him to get undressed and he really struggled. He particularly couldn’t get the cover off of his ostomy pouch. So I knelt down to help him and thought, “Gee. That looks funny.” I looked forward and Patrick’s ostomy had “prolapsed” or, in other words, slipped out.

That doesn’t mean all of Patrick’s intestines came out. What it means is that an ostomy is a surgically created hernia.. only somehow Patrick’s had made his hernia herniate and so more of it was out that was surgically intended.

But it was new and still looked good. So I called the on call nurse coordinator. When I told her why I was calling I could hear surprise and concern in her voice. She asked me a few questions and then asked if I could come bring him in.

They have a short term treatment center here that they have their transplant patients come to for minor emergencies. Kind of nice to not have to go through the ER.  They checked us in and then called the surgery resident to come have a look. The transplant team was all in a kidney transplant so it took a minute for her to arrive.

When she came, though, she had a look and Louie was seeming a little upset. Swollen and kind of dark colored. So she said we should spend the night and decide what to do in the morning. Then not long afterwards, the surgical attending came in. He tried to push Louie back inside, but without success. He said we should sleep on the problem, too.. But suggested that, as this was the second problem with Louie in the 2 months since transplant, and since Patrick isn’t needing regularly biopsies right now, maybe it was time to consider taking down the ostomy.

So Patrick and I spent the night last night. We went to bed about 2. He mostly got to sleep until just before 10. It was a cuddly, nice night. And nice to have a break from being the one keeping the medical care going during the night. And in the morning, Louie was slowly going back in.. but not quite enough and a revision was looking necessary.

So we talked with the surgeon this morning. Ultimately, we decided that Patrick is a very active child who was going to continue to have problems with this unless something more was done. And it didn’t make sense to put him through a surgery to maintain an ostomy that is rarely being used for the reason it was created.

**Picking up this post at 9 p.m. Patrick’s surgery went well. They were able to take down his ostomy.. The intestine was already connected, so they just needed to close things back up. Nevertheless, this did leave him with good inch-long incision that will need to heal. It isn’t stitched closed. They are packing it with gauze to heal as they have found that this provides better healing, even if it also means a bigger scar.

He has had a hard day. He is sad and he is sore and he is itchy. He wants to eat and drink. He doesn’t understand why this happened so suddenly or why. The pain medicines have made it so he’s slept most of the day, thankfully, as long as Brian or I lay with him. That is probably the hardest thing from our perspective. Getting up to eat or go to the bathroom or really do anything upsets him. So we just try to lay still. There are 2 TV’s in the room so one can play his shows and one can be tuned in to one of ours.

Hopefully this first day or two will be all that is hard. As soon as his gut wakes up and starts moving things through, he can start clear liquids again and then they’ll restart feeds. It will probably be at least a week.

I’m grateful Brian is here to give me breaks and to go back to the Ronald McDonald House for clothing and food. I’m sorry, though, that we are spending the last week of his visit here this way.

Hopefully it will be just a short setback that adds up to a better quality of life for him long-term.