University of Nebraska Medical Center – Page 3

Transplant Day 30 and warranty maintenance

Patrick finally got some good sleep last night. In fact, he was well on his way to sleeping all day. At 10 a.m., he had succeeded in going back to sleep again no matter the interruption. Therefore, I was in my PJ’s with hair uncombed when the team came for rounds.

I hopped out of bed and found them reviewing the imaging from yesterday. And what they saw looked like good news. The images of the gut still looked healthy throughout. The only sign of trouble was right where the stoma came through the abdominal wall. Right before, there was some dilation that showed that there was a narrowing there.

I asked what that meant they could do.. the answer was pretty straightforward. The surgeon, Dr. Mercer, could take him to the OR and open up the stoma a little more. He said he had some time on his schedule and could take care of it today.

Then, he turned around and said, “Don’t be surprised. My OR nurses are very efficient today. They may come for him in 20 minutes.”

So I called Brian who was finishing up laundry and told him to come quick, which he did. I hurried and got dressed. He got Patrick cleaned up and dressed. And then, sure enough, they came to take Patrick to the OR. The nice thing about this plan was that there wasn’t much time to worry. But it certainly scared and frustrated Patrick. It was hard to send him off knowing how worried he was.

The procedure was quick and successful. Dr. Mercer said that as soon as he released the pressure, he felt like the bowel said “Ah! That’s better!” There was a little scar tissue causing a twist and then a little bit of a narrowing in the abdominal wall and he thinks that was all the problem that was there. So now things should work very well, even when Patrick is ready to eat solid foods.

They also did Patrick’s 3rd scope and biopsy while he was asleep and reported that the bowel looks pink and healthy.

Dr. Mercer said no worries about this. Just consider it some warranty maintenance.

According to the post-anesthesia nurse, Patrick woke up and immediately asked if everything was done. Then he went back to sleep. When she called me back, he was awake again and sad. He asked me to lay in the bed. Then he told me he didn’t want to talk. So we just layed there together. I even laid with him as we came back to the room.

Unfortnately, after we got back to the room, he started to feel worse and worse. His oxygen saturation was low so they had to turn his oxygen back on. That isn’t a huge surprise given the condition of his lungs. However, it was a surprise when he started running fevers.

It sounds like his full tummy might have made him aspirate (inhale) some bile as they were intubating. We’ve seen this a couple of times with him and it’s pretty consistent. Some fevers. Maybe some trouble with his lungs called “aspiration pneumonia.”

The good news is that they are already doing all of the possible prescribed treatments. Antibiotics. Chest x-rays. Respiratory therapy. They did an x-ray and it looks good. His lungs sound good. We were able to get him settled down enough to keep some tylenol down and that has brought the fever down a bit, too.

He got feeling good enough to sit up and play with some playdough and he is asleep now. They have even been able to turn down the oxygen some. He’s also been asking to drink water, something he hasn’t wanted for well over a week… that tells me that his tummy has felt too tight for a while now and how that it doesn’t (and his mouth is dry from the oxygen), water sounds good. Thank goodness his belly is to suction right now and he can drink all he wants.

The great news is that his stoma is working great now, too. The funny thing about raising a kid with intestinal problems is that there are so many occasions to be extremely excited about stool.

Transplant Day 29 and some gut rest

Well last night was frustrating. The nursing staff was spread thin because of the holiday and it took a lot longer than usual for them to respond to the non-critical things. From 10-11 p.m. one of Patrick’s antibiotics ended and the pump alarm rang and there was no one to shut it off. I silenced it for a while, but Patrick insisted that it was the nurse’s job and my job was just to cuddle and talk to him. How can you argue with that?

Unfortunately, the nurses were trying not to bother him while he slept, so every time Patrick woke, they’d try to come in and do vitals. Problem is, that mean they were in the room half an hour each of those times and we were awake at midnight and 5 and 5:30. (Not complaining about nursing… just stating trouble with sleep that comes with not doing well.) Then, at 6 Patrick’s nurse came to deliver the news that the resident didn’t want to come drain his gut again “unless he’s really uncomfortable.” Well – 10 minutes later, Patrick woke up crying. He said “bucket” and, before I could react, he threw up all over everything.

Yes – uncomfortable. Apparently, with nothing moving out of his gut and feeds still moving in, Patrick’s gut and belly had finally had enough.

So we got him up and changed the bed and gave him a bath and turned on some Blues Clues. And we waited for the doctors to come for rounds.

Rounds were actually kind of a relief today. They talked about different causes for this new problem and tests that could look for those problems. They aren’t thinking rejection at this point.. perhaps some inflammation or something called an ileus where the gut just temporarily stops moving or a mechanical issue with the muscle wall around Patrick’s stoma or a type of irritation called pneumatosis.

Then, Dr. Mercer came into the room to try out draining Patrick’s belly himself. When he saw how little a catheter needed to go in to immediately drain, he was actually really relieved. He said that ruled out a lot of possible problems. It also eliminated the perceived huge risk of draining. He showed Brian then and there and wrote orders that the nursing staff or parents could do that as often as needed.

They also stopped feeds, restarted TPN, put Patrick’s g-tube to suction so he wouldn’t have to throw up any more, switched as many medication as possible to their IV forms, and ordered some tests. The rest of the morning was very busy. Patrick had an x-ray of his abdomen and then later a CT scan to look specifically for pneumatosis or any other narrowings or problems. I guess we did a good job selling the idea of how fun a CT can be because Patrick had already been asking if he’d get to go in the “donut” again. We got comments from the radiology staff and nurse about how comfortable he was doing something that terrifies most other children.

Patrick and daddy in a wheelchair headed to CT

Later today, they’ll come do an ileoscopy (scope through the stoma) and biopsy again.

Hopefully, one of these tests will show us what is going on. It is possible that Patrick’s belly just needs to rest and reset after all of the trauma of last week.

Regardless, with symptoms alleviated, the rest of yesterday was a good day. Without pain, Patrick was feeling up to sitting up and playing more. (In fact, he was more than a little afraid of his bed after all the scary things that had happened there this past few days, so he was doing all he could to get me to let him be in other places.) This means that his lungs have opened up and he was able to wean off of oxygen. His lungs are still recovering and they are trying to get the fluid all the way out of them and the lungs totally reinflating. His oxygen saturation is a little bit low and he sets off alarms when he sleeps, but he quickly rebounds and no one comes running at this point.

Having family here definitely lifted his spirits, too. He and I were both worn out and frustrated and mad yesterday. It would have been a hard day had just the two of us been trying to be together. But Patrick’s family made him feel like a million bucks. Really, seeing the pride in his eyes when I came back from doing laundry (it was a big laundry day) at having his uncle all to himself was impressive. And seeing him happy and laughing as he played with his cousins was a big treat, too. This little boy needs people and fun.

Brian went with Mark’s family to the zoo in the afternoon and Patrick and I took a much needed nap and some quiet individual play time.. But then they came back and we played in the playroom and went out to a break room to eat dinner.. and then back into the room for another priesthood blessing. (Patrick asked if Mark could help daddy give him one.) Then they gave him some gifts, including a ball that was then used to play monkey in the middle. He laughed and laughed.

When they left, I let him stay up and watch some of his new Dora DVD while we finished up his care and I got ready for bed.

I’m finishing this blog post up in the morning. Patrick has slept soundly all night. X-ray snuck in at 5:30. (Patrick’s nurse is fairly mad they did because she guards to be sure they don’t wake patients who don’t need it.) Patrick was really upset about it, but then tucked up his arms under my side and went back to sleep. A little later they came to draw labs, saw his bed needed cleaned up, and the same happened.

After such a long and hard week, it is so good to see him comfortable and sleeping peacefully. Hoping that goes a long way towards a better day today.

Patrick’s days are busy right now. He starts the day with labs at 5:30 and a chest x-ray at the latest moment that the nurses will allow to get him sleep but still get the results on time for rounds. He has meds at 7 and at 9, and because he doesn’t feel well, that means running zofram for nausea first. He has 2 antibiotics each given 3 times a day with a benadryl pretreatment before. He has respiratory therapy 3 times a day. He has vitals every 6 hours. And diapers. And stoma care. And a bath. And pain management. And getting up to walk. And trying not to go stir crazy.

It’s been 4 weeks since transplant. One thing we know from this journey.. So much can change in a day, or week, or month. We really appreciate all of the ongoing support and love that you offer Patrick, near or far.

Transplant Day 28 and Thanksgiving

I didn’t get to blogging last night. Patrick has had some really good moments, some really difficult moments, and a very busy treatment schedule for the past 2 days. This is the first quiet moment I’ve had. So let me catch you up.

Two nights ago, I emptied Patrick’s ostomy bag and put him to bed. (In case you don’t know, an ostomy or stoma is a place where a surgeon has made a small piece of intestine come out of the skin. It drains into a bag. Patrick needs to have one so they can easily and safely do scopes to watch for rejection for the next year. Eventually, they’ll take it back down and reconnect him.)

Anyway.. I put Patrick to bed a little before midnight. By morning, his ostomy bag was still empty. When his nurse gave him his morning meds, he couldn’t keep them down. And as the day wore on, it seemed his discomfort was growing more and more. But we told the team and the surgeon said get him up and maybe it will wake up. If not, then call and a resident could come use a small tube to help break up and drain out any small blockage.

Well, 2 p.m. rolled around and still nothing and Patrick’s belly really hurt. We called the resident. She was really hesitant and thought that it was dangerous to put a tube into Patrick’s stoma and new bowel. So she wasn’t going to do it without permission. The fellow (who is over the residents) had been in the hall pulling up chest x-rays during the conversation, so he hadn’t heard the instructions. It took another hour and a little bit of firm insistence before she finally consented to come do the procedure.

But, once she did. Patrick felt lots better. The nursing staff decided that they would insist that this be done once every 8 hours at least. Because of that, Patrick was much more comfortable for the rest of the afternoon.

All that pain made it so Patrick didn’t feel much like getting up and moving much. Thank goodness for family, though. When Brian’s brother Mark heard that we were going to be here for Thanksgiving, he and his wife immediately started to make plans to come celebrate Thanksgiving with us. They rented a house for the weekend so they’d have a kitchen to cook in. They drove here from Denver, arriving Wednesday night. Then, the night before Thanksgiving, they went and found a grocery store, bought all the food for the meal, and went to work.

So yesterday morning, while Heidi stayed behind and cooked, Mark and his kids came to play. They threw a ball, blew bubbles, put on a mini puppet show. They brought Patrick big smiles, even though he didn’t feel very well. Then, they went to help pack up the food and Patrick took a nap. He slept through dinner, and that was really ok, since he wouldn’t have been eating anyway.

For a Thanksgiving dinner in the hospital, this meal was amazing. As I’ve said before, this hospital is abandoned on weekends and holidays. So we set up dinner on one of the long tables in the cafeteria. We all ate until we were well stuffed. The kids played in the cafeteria and we rested and talked.

Then I came upstairs so Patrick wouldn’t wake up alone. Good thing, too, as he woke up crying in pain. His nurse got him a hot pack and some pain meds, though, and with his belly a little less full it helped.

Brian came up after his family had left for the evening and with pain medicine on board, Patrick was ready for a walk. We got the nurse to bring in a cart for some portable oxygen. His walking was stiff and clumsy and guarded… But getting up and moving seemed to have helped his lungs. His oxygen saturation was much better for the rest of the evening. That, after a day of restarting respiratory therapy, seemed to make a really big difference.

It was a busy evening, though. Nursing staff is short on a holiday so the nurses were running like crazy. But still, with several antibiotics on the IV pump in the evening, the pumps just beeped and beeped. Finally, we made it to sleep at midnight. Unfortunately, vitals woke up at 5 and then labs at 5:30 and so we were both exhausted by morning. Therefore, this late post. I’ll start writing about today next and hopefully post after adding a bit more right at bedtime.

Transplant Day 26 and Atelectasis

Atelectasis: the collapse of part or (much less commonly) all of the lung.

Last night was one of the hardest we’ve had here. Patrick’s fever reached 104. And he was really struggling to breathe. Anytime he’d lay down, his oxygen saturation dropped. Anytime he sat up, he coughed violently. Finally, at 1 a.m. his nurse put him on oxygen and as long as we slept with the bed up and me helping to support him sitting up as he slept, he was able to rest.

At 5:45 a.m. radiology came to take a chest x-ray. It showed that Patrick’s pleural effusion had about doubled in size. It also showed that both lungs had “atelectasis.” In other words, his lungs were partially collapsed because of pressure.

When the team came around, they said that he needed them to help get the fluid out. If the fluid was from a pneumonia or infection, they could culture it and give the right antibiotics. If not, then they could from there start looking for other explanations for his fevers. The effusion itself can cause fever.

But he’d need sedation and that meant he’d need to have his feeds shut off for 6 hours. And that meant the earliest time would be evening.

Getting him up was rough, but once he was up, he seemed to do better. To help with the lung collapse, we played games that made him take deep breaths. We used birthday blowers to knock down towers of cups. We blew bubbles. We played with whistles. This kept him doing as good as possible, but as the day wore on, he needed more and more oxygen. I just tried to keep him happy sitting up, playing games, coloring.

His new homebound school teacher Mr. Chambers. came this afternoon. Patrick was dead tired and had figured out that sign language was easier than talking. So, this isn’t exactly how I figured Patrick’s first day of school in Omaha would look. But – it was the first step and that’s what matters. We’ll have an IEP written by the end of the week and dive in with 3 one-hour school sessions a week. Mr Chambers is very nice and very compassionate, too.

Also, Home Health came to deliver Patrick’s enteral feeding pump, get signatures, and give us any training we needed. We’ve used this pump before, but it’s been a long time and we weren’t using it all the time before.. So I figured a refresher course was in order. This pump is tiny and lightweight and Patrick will have no trouble at all moving and playing while wearing it in a backpack. It’s purpose is to do a drip feed of formula into his stomach all day long until he is able to eat enough calories on his own.

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At this point in my blogging, from yesterday got interrupted. It is now Wednesday morning and I’m going to fill you in on the rest of what happened last night.

About 4 p.m. yesterday, we heard from Patrick’s nurse than Interventional Radiology’s schedule was full and they were putting Patrick onto his schedule for 10:30 a.m. today. Thank goodness for our awesome nurse Debb who was worried about Patrick’s continual decline. She made a lot of noise and I think is part of why things are better right now instead of just starting right now.

A little later in the afternoon, the nurse practitioner came to check in on Patrick before going home and tell us the plan to wait till morning. We said, “What if things keep getting worse overnight?” She answered that if there were an acute emergency, they’d take him down sooner. So Brian asked what constituted an acute emergency. The answer: Needing 2-3 liters of oxygen. So we pointed out that he was already on 2 liters of oxygen and desatting when he tried to sleep. She countered, “but at least he’s resting comfortably.” And I said, “No.. he’s so uncomfortable he’s been lying there trying to sleep and is resting because he’s exhausted from the effort.” She left the room rather quickly at that point. Half an hour she came back to say that they were working on setting up the procedure as soon as possible.

That was at 6 p.m. They took him down at 8 p.m. Because things were happening quickly, we got to give the same general history a few times to a few different residents. But eventually, the anesthesiologist came over to explain that, with his lungs already stressed, they thought it safest to intubate him for the procedure.

And then we kissed him goodbye and they said it was a quick procedure and we’d see him soon.

The procedure actually was pretty quick. With general anesthesia, an hour and a half is really fast… and that’s about how long it took for the doctor who performed the procedure to come tell us that things had gone well. They removed about 250 cc’s (or a quarter of a liter) of milky white fluid from the sac around his lung. That doesn’t sound like a ton, until you imagine Patrick’s tiny body carrying around 8 ounces of liquid in his lung. Then it sounds like a lot. They let us see the x-rays last night. His right lung had been entirely collapsed.

She said they’d call us back soon. But then we just waited. And waited. And we finished our show. And I started a blog. And then a chaplain came looking for someone to visit. And it before we knew it an hour had passed.

(A side story about the chaplain. After visiting for a while, she asked if she could pray with us. She said the prayer and closed “In Jesus’ name.” Then after saying “Amen” she blushed and said, “I didn’t think to ask if you were Mormon.” We said that yes, we are. Then she tried to apologize for praying in Jesus’ name. So we had a minute to stop and explain that we do, in fact believe in Christ and pray in His name and that her prayer perfectly fit our method of praying… And then that’s when the doctor came.)

Back to the story – the interventional radiologist came back to tell us that they weren’t having success taking out Patrick’s breathing tube. His lungs were too weak and needed extra time to recover before they’d work properly. He was making significant progress and she was sure he’d be ok before long. But, to be safe and give him time to recover, she told us they’d keep him intubated till morning.

We were joined by a nurse manager who explained that in the hurry to get Patrick into the ICU, they’d put him into an adult room but that they were moving him to a pediatric room in under an hour and that they’d like us to wait till then to come back. We started to say, “OK. That gives us time to go clean up and move his things,” when we looked up to see one of the techs from the pediatric floor coming with a cart of things from Patrick’s room.

This kind of the last straw.. The idea that they couldn’t even wait for us to have time to get an update from his doctors before they were packing up and moving out his things. While we cleaned up, there was someone from housekeeping waiting because he’d been called to come clean the room and hospital policy requires that they respond within 5 minutes of the page. We don’t mind so much that they tried to help clean up and move the things… as the fact that he wasn’t even settled in the PICU before they had done it.

On our way out the door with the mountain of things that Patrick has accumulated during our stay, the nurse manager from the PICU came to find us to tell us that they had extubated Patrick. Ok, THIS was the straw that broke the camel’s back. Patrick was awake and we were downstairs cleaning his room and unable to go be by his side. She might have said something about “this is just how things go.” And we might have given her an earful about compassion. We are a little less angry this morning. But it’s going to be hard to bring ourselves to try to make Patrick’s next room feel homey again because it caused such a problem when he needed to move.

Anyway – with the fluid off of his lungs Patrick has been doing much better. He his heart rate is down, meaning his pain is going away. He is weaning off of oxygen. He is catching up on his very much needed sleep. His fevers are gone. His lungs are a little bit crackly, but that will probably get better once he wakes up and starts moving and breathing again.

They are still waiting for lab results about the fluid that was drained. However, right now the working theory is that he had developed a chylothorax. “A chylothorax is a type of pleural effusion. It results from lymphatic fluid (chyle) accumulating in the pleural cavity due to either disruption or obstruction of the thoracic duct.”

I asked the team to teach me this morning what it means. What it means is this… Patrick’s transplant required cutting his lymphatic system. While it heals, it might become “leaky.” When they switched him to Elecare instead of Vivonex formula, they changed the type of fatty acid he was getting. And those fatty acids go through the lymphatic system and if the system is leaking, the fats can get trapped in places like the lungs.

Most transplant kids go through this. Patrick just got it worse than others because they switched his formula over so early.

They’ll go back to Vivonex formula. They will restart feeds slowly. They’ll watch closely to see if the problem comes back. And we’ll go from there.

It means more time in the hospital for him. But, hopefully before long they’ll get him back out of the PICU and onto the pediatric floor.

Transplant Day 25 and a Bad Day

Well again, I posted last night and then went to be with Patrick and things got worse. I’m kind of afraid to hit post early tonight.. But try hard not to believe in medical jinxes.

Yesterday evening, Patrick’s fevers started to show up even with Tylenol in his system. He also started to have coughs that he couldn’t suppress. He was so miserable, he just curled up on my lap and didn’t want to move. His nurse called the resident and more cultures were ordered as well as a chest x-ray. They also started antibiotics and an antifungal. Daddy gave him a priesthood blessing, too.

And then, we just tried to let him sleep. Sometime between 3 and 5, his fever broke. By morning, he was feeling better.. but certainly was not back to himself. His cough is still bad. He’s breathing heavy. And every time the tylenol wears off, his fever comes back.

I was frustrated during the night because I just kept hearing that everything was coming back negative. However, today when the doctors rounded, they said that they’d seen a pleural effusion in the x-ray. That means that there is fluid around the outside of his lungs. That is why it is hard to breathe.

Rounds were kind of refreshing. It’s nice that our input is both welcome and helpful. I told them about what had happened overnight, Patrick’s typical infection history and medication allergies, and my own thoughts and worries.

The current working theory is that he has some kind of respiratory bug, maybe a pneumonia. But his lungs sound good and he’s on the right IV antibiotics to help. So today’s orders were wait and watch. If things get worse, they’ll do a CT scan. Welcome to the world of immune suppression.

He napped all day and woke up with lower temps but more trouble breathing. He’s spent the day in bed watching Blues Clues. Good thing kids like watching the same DVD’s 1000 times. These TV’s are too old for our chromecast to work so we are limited to just what we own physically. We have enough for about a day’s worth of Blues Clues viewing and Patrick doesn’t mind rewatching the same thing over and over again.

I have tried to keep other things moving forward. Got him officially enrolled in school. His teacher should come tomorrow if Patrick is still doing ok. Got word that the insurance company has responded to the appeal and decided to cover the Valcyte after all. Ordered some more ostomy bag samples. Convinced the team that they still want to do our discharge training early this week in case Patrick gets better over the holiday weekend.

Alas, the evening has been hard again. His fevers have reached 104 when his tylenol wears off. His heart rate is high. His oxygenation is low, but holding. And he’s having a hard time keeping his medications down.

Darn holidays. We need a better kind of holiday tradition.

Transplant Day 24 and a fever

Well, I hit post last night and crawled in bed with Patrick as promised.. Only to have Brian notice as he moved Patrick to bed that he felt kind of warm to the touch. Patrick was running a fever of about 101. So they called the doctors and they ordered blood cultures (including peripheral ones, which means they had to use a needle which always makes him scared and sad.) Then, they gave him Tylenol and told him he could sleep.

His night wasn’t the greatest. He tossed and turned and felt like he was burning up. But, with Tylenol, he didn’t register another fever. And this morning he wasn’t the happiest, but he was ok.

I talked to the nurse this morning and asked if we could get cultures on the other side of Patrick’s line and also test to see if he had a virus. So they did a respiratory viral panel. (Sidenote, this is abbreviated RVP here, but VRP at home and they keep correcting us here thinking we are making a mistake, when really it’s just a difference in word order.)

The viral panel was negative and it’s been almost 24 hour and the first set of cultures is also negative. His lungs sound clear. Patrick’s done ok all day, though didn’t seem to feel much like himself.

They don’t usually start antibiotics for their transplant kids unless fevers either get really high or last a long time or they can’t find a cause.

Finally, this evening, we let his Tylenol wear off again. Patrick kind of curled up in a ball and started to breathe heavily. Sure enough, the fever was back at 101.

This is proving to be a tricky balance. We don’t really want to give him narcotic pain medicines anymore. But the alternative is Tylenol, which hides a fever. We don’t know if he’s really had this problem lurking but hidden for a while. And the team keeps saying that Patrick only ran a fever once in the previous day, when really it’s just that Patrick could only handle the pain of his tylenol wearing off enough to show a fever once in the past day.

Because Patrick hasn’t been feeling well, we have had a pretty quiet Sunday. I had to go do some laundry at the Ronald McDonald House this morning. While I was there, I did a little bit of rearranging and organizing to get the room ready for Patrick to come there. It’s small and organization is going to matter.

Then Brian called and said the elders were on their way with the sacrament, so I hurried back.

Usually, I would have done some homeschool-style Sunday School today.. But none of us really felt like doing much of anything.. So maybe we’ll wait till later in the week.

So, we are just waiting and watching and praying that if something needs to be discovered and treated, that it will be. Otherwise, we just keep planning for the best case scenario that Patrick might be ready to move out of the hospital one of these days. After all, it’s a holiday week and if we follow Patrick’s rules for holidays, something big has gotta happen.

Transplant Day 6

I consider it very good news to share that today was supremely, well.. lazy. Patrick is talkative and happy today.

Things didn’t start out that way. First of all, one anti-rejection medication requires vital signs, including blood pressure, to be checked very 30 minutes and so Patrick already wasn’t sleeping well. During the night, he kept rubbing at the staples around his belly button until he made the incision weep and we had a steroid fueled tantrum about 4 a.m. over whether or not I was a mean mommy for not allowing this.

Perhaps it was this or perhaps it was the effect of waking up sore and in the hospital again once more, but he was just plain sad getting up today. Respiratory therapy came in to do his morning breathing treatment, which Patrick has generally liked. But today it was a new person and he didn’t want anything to do with her. The nurse that was with her asked Patrick if the balloon in the room meant it had been his birthday. Patrick just broke down in tears. Yeah, someday he’ll get it. But right now, that added up to one very sucky birthday. It’s the first time he’s let go and cried about all he’s going through.

I think it was healing. Eventually, we got him to settle down enough for the breathing treatment and managed to change the tube on his nose, too. And then, he was ok. In fact, he was pretty darn happy. He sat up in his bed and played with toys all morning. He made friends with everyone who came into the room. He had a really good day.

We really were lazy all day. Patrick had some bleeding from his drains, which isn’t necessarily concerning.. just means that the suture lines from the transplant might still be healing. But I decided that it meant he should rest. So I let him just play on the bed and took an extra long time getting dressed and eating lunch myself. Occasionally, as a treat, I dip some mouth sponges in water for him. That’s about the maximum level of our excitement.

After lunch, Patrick had a package from our Primary (children’s sunday school) full of gifts and pictures colored by his friends at church in the mail. Included in the package were several chap sticks that I’d been told were specifically intended to be used as a motivator in therapy.. so I told Patrick to earn one, he’d need to get out of bed. He walked to the chair, we sat there all day watching TV, then walked him back to bed.

The effort of walking back and then a diaper change left Patrick’s little body trembling, so we called that good enough for the day. And now here we are, being lazy till bedtime.

A few milestones today: Patrick has weaned off of oxygen support. If he makes it through the night and has a clear x-ray, he’ll probably be done with respiratory therapy. He also got to get rid of a catheter now, which means we’ll need to remember to check diapers.

But that’s all the news, so in the absence of news, a few observations about life here. It’s different being here at yet another hospital. Grown up hospitals are different in so many ways from children’s hospitals. Some good, some bad. Here just a few things that have stood out:

1. Adults are so much more serious about illness that the mood of the whole hospital is just much more serious, professional, and somber.

2. Because adult visitors go home at night, the cafeterias here don’t operate at full capacity at dinner time. We were getting really tired of sandwiches, grill, and chinese food. I finally remembered to eat there at lunch and use my packed lunch for dinner. Eating a real meal (fried chicken and mashed potatoes) made me indescribably happy.

3. Also, because visitors go home at night, they like to shut down other parts of the hospital. Like half of the elevators and escalators. At first, when I was barely functioning, this really bugged me. Now, I welcome the excuse to take the stairs. After all, I have sat in a chair all day.

4. The PICU here is tiny. There are fewer than 12 beds. That means that it’s not hard to get to know the staff. Yes, the team rounding is still huge.. but it’s the same people, so I’m not having to constantly learn new names. It also means that I get to sleep here in the room if I want, (read: if Patrick wants.) And it’s really, REALLY quiet. Unlike the rest of the hospital, not sad and serious most days.

5. Being one of very few children in the hospital also means that Patrick is being spoiled out of his mind. You would not believe the pile of gifts and activities this kid is collecting! We were very well taken care of at Primary Children’s. Spoiled even. But this, this is almost gluttony. There are worse places to be planning to spend our holidays.

5. Finally, this hospital is huge. I spend most of my time floating around this tiny little corner of it. But probably this weekend, we’ll move out of the hospital’s family housing and a few blocks away into the Ronald McDonald house. I am trying to figure out how to make that work smoothly, given how long it takes to either walk to the Ronald McDonald house or to drive to a parking garage, park and walk through the building (without its escalators running.) This is going to break my hospital routine. Of course, not having Brian here to run all my errands and bring me food and clothes is going to do that anyway.

Transplant day 5

First of all, let me say that this was a much better day. Last night, right after I finished posting, the team came in and said that they felt it was time to mix up the pain medicine routine. Immediately, he became more himself. Also, right afterwards, respiratory therapy stopped by to start doing a treatment they call CPT. Unlike the mask that terrified Patrick, CPT is just like a great big massage. It put Patrick right to sleep.

It also told us that it was time for mommy to sleep in Patrick’s room. So, with Patrick asleep from his breathing treatment, I snuggled right up next to him and crashed. With pain under control, his oxygen saturation popped up to almost normal (though with oxygen running). Patrick and I slept snuggled all night. Since he is too sore to roll over and attach, he slept holding onto my ear. (That is sweeter than it sounds.) And by morning, he’d found his voice again. We gave him a bath and put on a new hospital gown.

Physical therapy came by early in the morning and we decided that with him feeling better, it was time to try walking again. They fitted him with a child sized walker and away we went. Patrick was scared at first and just kept crying for mommy to save him. I just got down on my knees and cheered him on and pointed to the next landmark until we got him to where Daddy was waiting to hold him in the chair.

The rest of the morning was quiet. They tried a nebulizer. He hated it. They discontinued those orders (hooray.) I did laundry and made a few more phone calls to Patrick’s doctors and therapists to cancel his appointments and let them know where he’d gone.

And before i knew it, it was almost noon. Time for Brian to leave to catch his flight home. So we walked Patrick back to bed with still some tears, but a stronger body and more courage. Then kissed daddy goodbye and settled in for a nap.

Patrick was in a great mood after nap. I’d decided we needed to do something sitting up in bed to help his lungs clear this afternoon.. So I reached into the big box of trick-or-treat prizes and found a set of paints. Patrick was SO excited! We gathered up a too-large hospital gown and pulled up his table and away he went to work.

The nurse gave him a cup of water to rinse his brush in and he immediately tried to drink it. Patrick is desperate for a drink of water. He was furious when I told him no. (Thanks to steroids and not feeling well, little tantrums are big explosions right now.).. But eventually accepted the little pink mouth moistener that his medical team had approved and his mouth looks and feels so much better.

Patrick’s transplant doctors stopped by to check on him this afternoon. Their jaws about hit the floor as they saw him today compared to yesterday, up in bed and playing. And that’s what he did for most of the rest of the day. We painted. We blew bubbles. We played with a harmonica. Child life sent a medical student to come make putty out of borax and glue. After changing his ostomy bag and taking a short nap, we got Patrick up one more time and walked him to the chair. This time he was pretty quick and made it with no tears. We sat in the chair and called grandma, then watched the new episode of Daniel Tiger, then walked him back to bed where he’s been playing with the cars he got for his birthday happily ever since.

We still had our hard moments. Beginning to understand having his ostomy has Patrick worried. It broke my heart when he apologized to the nurse that she’d had to clean him up when the bag leaked. And the tears over wanting a drink of water are heartbreaking. But these are big, big things that would upset anyone, big or small. And they won’t last forever.

Again, the kindness of family, friends and strangers has astounded us. Gifts and cards arrived at just the right times today. It seemed that in all of the hard moments, something else would show up. Thank you, thank you for your generosity.

Those first steps were scary and hard, but he’s getting better.

He’s figured out this posture is the best way to stay out of the way while the nurses get his lines settled

Patrick was so excited to be able to sit up and do something creative after so many days. I could barely keep up.

Getting a line in and back on the transplant list

Sorry to have kept you waiting for updates. As you’ll see from this post, it’s been a crazy few days.

First of all, if you haven’t heard word any other way, the doctors in Nebraska were able to get a new central line into the Superior Vena Cava and Patrick is back on the transplant list. I mean to post updates but didn’t expect them to order bed rest and minimal activity for the next days after the procedure and, well, accomplishing that is kind of a full time job where Patrick is concerned.

We checked in to pre-op at 5:30 a.m. which is 4:30 a.m. Mountain Time and we were all incredibly sleepy. Pre-op was the usual flurry of activity as we met anesthesiologists and got fluids ordered and labs drawn. (They had an amazing phlebotemist who managed to draw blood without Patrick even crying and on her first attempt.) We met the OR nurse whom Patrick loved so much he said she was “Kinda Jo”, in other words, put him at ease like his favorite child life specialist. He collected teddy bears and various and sundry medical equipment to use on the bears and charmed everyone in sight.

Then we got the meet the doctor and go over the plan.

The procedure it took to get us there absolutely terrifies me. I order to get around the blockages, they put a guidewire in through Patrick’s femoral vein and ran it up to his heart where they repositioned the veins in order to reach the right ones and get around the clotting and scarring. At least, that’s what I understood. He followed along with x-ray and ultrasound the entire way to make sure things went where they should.

What I really gathered from the description of the procedure is that it was insanely dangerous. As the interventional radiologist was going over the risks with us, I just kind of had to shut off the part of my brain that could process what those risks might mean and remind myself that without it, he had no long-term chance of survival. Instead, I honed in on the fact that he sounded confident in what he was doing and that, well, it just felt right. I couldn’t help but think that THIS was the reason we’d been impressed to transfer Patrick’s care to the University of Nebraska. Because they had doctors who had developed this technique to save access and save lives.

Knowing how difficult Patrick’s access can be, we all kind of hunkered down expecting them to need hours. So, when we looked up at the status board after just a couple of hours and see that they were closing. Then, sure enough, there was the doctor telling us that everything had gone well and that he had a new line in place.

As we understand it, this is a rare direct superior vena cava line, entering the vein directly after going through soft tissue. (Patrick’s GI is questioning this, so I’m getting a copy of the procedure notes so I can go back over what was done and we can understand it.)

He went ahead and put in another double lumen line for us. Because they stock a different brand, the line they had was rather large, a 9 french, but that could kind of be a good thing. Should be less prone to clotting problems.

He also us that this line is to, under no circumstances, be taken out without his approval. If Patrick gets and infection, if the line breaks, if it clots, whatever… the team at the University of Nebraska needs to get involved. Maybe they will teach the team here how to keep the site open. Or, maybe they will fly us back out again. Whatever happens, they do not want to have to attempt to repeat this procedure. We were told that, next to transplant, this is one of the riskier and more specialized things that they do at their hospital.

Whew!

And by the end of the day, Patrick was back active on the transplant list.

The rest of the day was kind of crazy. Because of the risks of bleeding from that femoral access, Patrick was ordered to 3 hours of total bed rest with that leg completely immobilized. Knowing our child, we quickly agreed to request sedation for that.

At first, the sedation made things a little easier as we scrambled to attached fluids to the new line to keep it open. We also called to ask that his old line be removed while he was sedated (they’d left it in thinking it was still needed, but decided we didn’t need that to be done at home.)… and then scrambling to round up information about the new, different brand of line and repair kits, etc.

Patrick started to wake up just a little and was, well, cuddly. That’s normal for him, but normally I’m also allowed to hold him. This time, he had to stay in bed. So he settled for holding onto my head. For half an hour, he held my head as tightly as he possibly could. (Meanwhile, the doctor came back to pull the old line.)

Patrick making his teddy bear play tablet while on forced, sedated bed rest

About an hour in, the nurse decided to stop giving him sedation and just let what was in his system and me distract him. So, we played games on the tablet and we checked the blood pressure of the teddy bear and tried out a Nintendo DS. Meanwhile, Brian went back to the Ronald McDonald House to bring back TPN and to try to meet our delivery of medical supplies.

2 hours in, the doctor said that Patrick could sit up in bed and make sure his leg was ok with the extra movement. The post-anesthesia nurse was kind of tired of him tying up the space in PACU I think (they could only keep giving him sedation there) and so she discharged us to their extended care unit.

The extended care nurse acted as though she hadn’t received report from the PACU nurse, though. When we got there, she tried to insist that Patrick needed to stay lying still in bed for another hour because that’s what the orders in the computer said. And so, well, yes, I went a little angry mama bear on her and told her that I would not have agreed to come to her unit had those been the instructions.

And then we spent the next half an hour trying to keep Patrick still sitting up in bed, doing crafts, sipping water, and not chewing on or removing the COMPLETELY inappropriate non-pediatric pulse oximeter on his finger.

And then, I don’t know who talked to her, but the nurse came back in and cheerfully told us we could get Patrick dressed and he could be discharged. Like the nurse who I’d gone crazy on didn’t even exist.

Anyway, we were grateful for the dismissal as we had managed to squeeze in an appointment with one of the transplant surgeons at 1 p.m. and 1 p.m. is when Patrick was supposed to be cleared after 3 hours’ bed rest.

So, we hurried over to the Intestinal Rehab Clinic and checked in for our visit and a little while later, Dr. Langnas joined us. We explained to him our concerns about whether or not waiting for a combined liver/intestine transplant might be increasing Patrick’s wait time. He listened to our concerns and then explained the benefits that he sees for Patrick in the liver listing. Then he promised us a future date where, if Patrick has not received a transplant, he will take our concerns back to the transplant review board for reconsideration.

The rest of the day we spent trying to help keep Patrick down. We went back to the Ronald McDonald house again for a little back and let Patrick play in the playroom. Then, in the interest of some forced holding still, took a drive instead. Patrick heard us mention the temple as a possible destination and voted for that. So, with our bruised and bandaged and druggy little boy, we went and visited the Mormon Trail Center and Winter Quarters Temple grounds. Then came back on time for a yummy lasagna dinner courtesy some generous Ronny House graduates, then went to bed early and exhausted.

Playing pioneer at the Mormon Trail Center

After tucking Patrick into bed, it hit me just how serious what he’d been through that day and week really was. Another case of him surviving against the odds, an unquestionable miracle. And a VERY close call. I shed a few tears of fear and relief that night, said a prayer of gratitude, and went to bed.

Mission Impossible

I probably have this idea in my head because we watched a Mission Impossible movie a couple of nights ago. But I swear that today, as I ran from one major problem to another and felt myself being powered by pure adrenaline, that my life is no less demanding than a Mission Impossible mission. Maybe a little more dull and much more sedentary.

Here’s why today had me thinking that. I stayed up till a little after 11 last night finishing off Patrick’s care notebooks, a 30 page medical history and emergency plan for Patrick’s school staff. I was woken 4 times during the night, twice by IV pumps alarming. Twice by Patrick’s mylar balloon drifting into the ceiling fan in the kitchen.

At 7:30, Patrick woke up and I tried really hard to explain that we had a busy morning and needed to get ready quickly. After a summer of lazy, he did his best but we were definitely out of practice.

We finally made it downstairs and I scrambled to put finishing touches on school supplies. That doesn’t mean pencils and papers for Patrick. It means putting together a medical supply emergency kits, diaper changing kits (with instructive labels on each bottle of cream), care notebooks, first aid response cards (miniature and laminated to fit in Patrick’s backpack), and allergy safe labels on boxes and bags of snacks.

Patrick’s school open house started at 9:30 and we got there a little after 10. I felt really bad for coming so late.

BUT we had a chance to meet some other parents and kids and explore the classroom a bit. As we were nearing the end of the open house, I had a chance to meet the speech therapist and special education teacher who’ll be working with Patrick this year. I kind of tried to make a mad scramble in my tired brain to remember the relevant information I wanted to discuss with them about his goals. I think we covered the main points and I was impressed that they seemed to be on the same page as me. Then I went over with the teacher and classroom aides a refresher course on his medical care and diaper care and what ADHD and sensory processing disorder mean for him. And, of course, how and who to reach in an emergency.

I left the classroom half an hour after the open house was due to end. We walked Patrick’s medical supplies down to the school nurses’ office, along with a copy of the emergency plan, and briefly went over their questions.

Then I pulled out my phone and noticed that I had missed phone calls. Lots and lots of phone calls.

On the drive to the school, I’d called Patrick’s dietitian to tell her that we can’t get blood to draw off of his new line right now and ask if she really needed any labwork done today. (A nurse visit popped up in the schedule yesterday.)

That call prompted her to call Patrick’s GI, Dr. Jackson, who’d spent the morning bringing himself up to speed on Patrick’s new line and being put on hold for transplant. And he was quite concerned.

Oh, and I’d missed the call back from the transplant nurse in Nebraska.

So, when I got in the car, I called back Dr. Jackson. He apparently spent the morning going over operative notes and talking to the radiologists and other surgeons. And he’d learned something about Patrick’s new line that was alarming.

We had misunderstood what we’d been told about the placement of the line. The azygus vein is not a central vein. That means, it doesn’t directly connect to the heart. The tip of the new line is in a dilated part of that vein. But, after the tip there are some collateral (spiderlike veins that grow around a clot to reroute bloodflow like the little streams that form around the sides of a river if it is partially blocked.) And it is those that are connecting to the main veins and to the heart.

And since those veins are small and could infiltrate just like a peripheral IV vein, (or swell and close off that access, too) Dr. Jackson wanted Patrick off of his TPN ASAP.

Because of Patrick’s low lipid protocol, there is a lot of sugar in his TPN. It’s a very high osmolarity formula that kind of rips up small veins. So tonight we got a shipment of a lower osmolarity, lower sugar formula to run until we get a resolution.

Dr. Jackson also contacted the nurses and doctors in Nebraska on our behalf.

Anyway, I spent the drive home talking to him, then brought Brian up to speed, grabbed a quick lunch then called back the Nebraska Medical Center. They asked me to fedex them a CD of all of the imaging done of Patrick’s vein in the recent past and e-mail them all the radiology reports I had.

By then, Patrick was pretty tired and pretty tired of me on the phone, so I tried to rock him to sleep for his nap. But the phone rang. A homecare nurse seeing if I needed my TPN pump reprogrammed. Then it rang again. The homecare pharmacist setting up a shipment of the new formula fluid.

By this point, I texted my sister. I could tell I was in over my head and needed more time than I had.

She drove over while I got Patrick down for a nap, then stayed with him while he slept. Meanwhile, I scanned all my radiology reports. Then I drove to the hospital to pick up the CD of radiology images that Dr. Jackson had requested on my behalf, stop in medical records for accompanying reports, and then down to the pharmacy for a prescription for ranitidine to replace the IV form Patrick usually gets in his TPN. Of course, on the drive up talking to the homecare pharmacy to order tubing and other supplies to go with the IV fluid. And, in the waiting room, e-mailing the nurse in Nebraska to decide that they wanted their own venogram done anyway and that they could schedule Patrick’s procedure without me sending a CD after all.

By now it was 3 p.m. and I was feeling a bit like my mind was doing stunts Tom Cruise could only dream of. I was exhausted with trying to change gears and think of entirely new life-critical details. Fortunately, 3 p.m. is 4 p.m. in Nebraska and close of business for the intestinal transplant office.

So, when I got home, I just had to make dinner and clean up a little bit until evening.

Dr. Jackson called this evening and we had a good conversation about where Patrick is and where things are going. The best phrase of the conversation was when he told me that he thought that the doctors in Nebraska are just smart and daring enough to be able to “Macgyver something” to keep Patrick listed if possible.

But we also had a good talk about where else central lines can go and how to reduce and treat clotting in veins and genetic predispositions and a whole bunch of other crazy things, kind of like Dr. Jackson and I like to do. Is it strange that he and I kind of enjoy talking over medical problems together?

The encouraging thing to me is that, although he called our situation “sobering”, I could hear in his voice that he has a lot of hope still.

And that he’s pushing to get things done, and quickly. I think he said he’d e-mailed the surgeon twice and had sent a copy of all of the radiology reports that he was able to send by e-mail to his nurse.

This evening, we received the delivery of new fluid and got it started. (The sad thing about this change is that, with fewer calories, Patrick can’t afford a tubes-free time every day. The good thing is, the bags are split into two per day so they weigh less and he’ll be able to wear his pack.).. After connecting his fluids for the night, we picked out clothes for school, put on PJ’s, and tucked Patrick into bed.

I’m hoping for a little more calm tomorrow. I’m happy Patrick doesn’t miss the first day back at preschool. And that, amazingly, we pulled that all together in the midst of all of the rest of this madness.

And maybe I can get phone calls done while he’s at school. Maybe even a plan for how to get out to Omaha. Maybe.

Or maybe, if they’re not ready for me yet, I’ll just go sit on the lawn at the park next door and read a book and delight in the knowledge that at 10:15 every Monday-Thursday, Patrick gets to go visit the sensory room. And all his favorite aides from his old class get to come into his new class for morning circle time. And some of his familiar friends are still there.

I think I had enough adrenaline for one day today. Heck, I’ve had enough this month to get me by for a year.