Well, here we are again. Back at Primary Children's Hospital right around the holidays.
At 4:55 pm yesterday, the blip blooped...again. In other words, Annika's implanted cardiac defibrillator (ICD) delivered a life-saving shock. Just like in January, she blipped after school, while I was picking her up from play practice. She was rough housing with her friend James and having a leaf fight in front of Wasatch Elementary. I remember watching and feeling simultaneously glad because she was running around like a "normal" kid and annoyed because she wasn't getting in the car like I'd asked. When I got out of the car to fetch her, she stopped running and said that her chest hurt. We paused for a moment for the pain to pass, then I told her we needed to get in the mini-van because I was blocking traffic,
Well, I guess I should have given her longer to recover, because when we got in the car she put her head between her knees. (She remembers this.) She stayed that way longer than I would have expected, so I started teasing her about being dramatic. Her head was bobbing with her pony tail flopping down in front of her face. I told her that if she had really passed out, she wouldn't mind if I tugged on her hair.
Annika shifted as soon as I touched her head and said, "What happened?" I thought she was joking, Having just come from theater class, I figured she was acting. Besides, the timing of her response was flawless. Her imagination is so vivid that sometimes it can be challenging to discern fiction from reality. However, when she repeated her question the second time, she sounded really upset. She promised me that she hadn't been pretending, and that she thought she had passed out. When she told me that she'd peed her pants, I knew something wasn't right. To quote Annie, "would I do that if I were pretending?" As I helped her out of the car, I noticed that even though her heart beat felt normal, her skin was surprisingly clammy. Something big had happened.
I immediately smothered my little girl in a hug and let her know that of course I believed her. I still feel so guilty for not recognizing the truth in her story immediately. The incident was just so unexpected and happened so fast! The time that she was slumped over was brief--less than thirty seconds. I still can't believe she was sitting right next to me and I didn't recognize the arrest. Annika complains of chest pain multiple times every day--I didn't expect this time to be any different. I didn't notice any kind of shock or hear any beep from her ICD. Even as I sent a remote transmission from her ICD, I felt unsure about what had happened.
The great thing about a transmission is that it can tell you exactly what happened. When they showed us her report the next day, it clearly showed her normal sinus rhythm (this is what you want) devolving into ventricular tachycardia, followed by ventricular fibrillation at a rate or 330 dysfunctional "beats" per minute. You can see where the ICD delivered a shock, and then the return of normal cardiac function. Per the device, the entire incident lasted fifteen seconds.
Fortunately, Annika recovered quickly. I called the cardiology clinic while she hopped in the shower to clean up. By the time she was out of the shower, she wanted to go to 5:30 Activity Days at the church. As she skipped away from the car and up the church stairs, I reminded her, "Don't run!" Then I went home to start dinner.
Well, it turns out that the cardiology team was more concerned about the blip than I was. Shortly after arriving home, I received a return phone call requesting that we bring her into the emergency department so that she could be evaluated. They warned me that she would likely be admitted. A little stunned, I asked if I could wait to bring her into the hospital until after we'd eaten dinner. I didn't want to fess up that she was already off doing her own thing. An hour would give us enough time to finish Activity Days, grab a quick bite to eat, pack a bag, and still make it up to Primary Children's.
When we got the Emergency Department, they were expecting us. They showed us back to a room and started an IV. In return for her cooperation, Annika was richly rewarded with slushies and slime. She definitely understands how this hospital gig works. She knew to ask for the "Buzzy Bee" to help with IV placement, and requested specific colors for her slime and the accompanying glitter.
Late that night Annika was admitted to the Cardiac ICU out of an abundance of caution. Here's Annie getting an echocardiogram in the morning.
The best part of her day happened when they decided to let her eat food because she wouldn't be going to the cath lab yet. To celebrate, she devoured a crazy amount of omelet and pancakes.
You don't typically think of the ICU as being an enjoyable experience, but between the Minecraft, Legos, and library, I'm quite certain Annika enjoyed it. As a parent, it was a little less fun. While the care is exceptional, it's really difficult to sleep with all the bright lights and constant activity. Plus, the unit definitely has some triggering memories for me. I recognize it as a place of miracles, but felt very grateful when they were able to transfer us upstairs to the regular cardiac floor this evening. We were double bunked in the ICU, so her new private room feels like a spacious luxury.
Fun as its been, I'm hopeful we won't have to stay too long. After all, there's no place like home.
No comments:
Post a Comment