I believe I left this story when I was being put into the helicopter.
So there I was, barely 13 years old, terrified about separating with both parents, not knowing what the hell was happening, and having the knowledge that I wouldn't see any of my family for four and a half hours.
With a kiss goodbye from my dad, and many people watching me be jerked into the helicopter, I panicked. I was completely fine with what was going on in my body, but not with the uncertainty that my mom would be allowed to tag along. I wanted her with me. After frequent demands pleading that my mom come with, she got on (later I found out that she was going to come the whole time, but they were asking her questions about something or other). So with me strapped in, and my mom getting buckled in, I reminded my mom that we wouldn't be having lunch out anytime soon today. With a "I'm sorry honey, I didn't realize this would happen," I knew that I wasn't going to eat for a VERY long time.
Since our city park is next to the lake and it was October, the ride was beautiful. All of the leaves were still on the trees with red, gold, orange hues, and I must say it looked wonderful. The gorgeous orange, red, gold leaves held my full attention unless I was called back by one of the men accompanying me and my mom to answer their questions. I didn't really care about their questions, I wanted to enjoy my first helicopter ride.
When we got to the hospital, I was taken to an emergency room where I was poked and prodded while watching Harry Potter. With my mom and I begging to let me eat, I was given a tiny ass apple juice box.
Talk about torture.
There was also still no word about what was going on with my heart, or at least the doctors weren't telling us. My mom was trying hard to be strong for me even though I wasn't the one freaking out (unless it was about eating. For some reason I become down right mean if I don't get to eat.) After a couple of hours of waiting, my uncle visiting, and more tests done, we finally found out what was going on in my heart.
I had Pericardial Effusion. I was one of seven children who have had it in a three-state region, and it could have potentially been deadly. Pericardial Effusion is where there is a hugely abnormal amount of fluid between the heart and the pericardium (sac surrounding the heart). There is a need for 2-3 tablespoons of fluid to help the heart move inside the sac; however, I had 20 ounces of fluid surrounding my heart in this sac. The pericardium doesn't expand very much either, so the dangers of squishing my heart was the reason for the all the pain in my chest. That and the fact that my heart was weighing down my lungs making it harder to breathe. The doctors told my mom and I that I was being scheduled for heart surgery since this would be the only way to get rid of all that fluid.
Hearing this, I rejoiced in the fact that I would get to eat. I wasn't having surgery today! I could eat!!! After getting the news about my condition, I was transfered to the 7th floor (the heart floor) and given a room to myself. My mom and I were reunited with my dad and my one of my sisters (the other was in college at the time without a car), and I quickly demanded sustenance from the nurse. It was around 11 o'clock pm at this time; she quickly told me that the kitchen was closed and had been for some time. I started crying like a little baby; I was finally given a tiny cup of chocolate ice cream, which was taken away from me after I ate only a half of the miniature cup. It didn't bother me so much since I was full, apparently my stomach shrunk throughout the day.
The next day I was told about the consequences of doing this operation and the repercussions for not doing the surgery. Obviously I decided to have the surgery, since heart surgery is in the title of this blog. My one demand was that I would be able to have my blanket with me when I went in to surgery. I had it the whole time during this fiasco, I might as well bring it with me there. Yes, I was very demanding in this hospital; however, I did say that I get very grouchy when people do not allow me to eat. And a stuffed animal or a blanket was allowed to surgery since I was in a children's hospital.
Later that day, I went into surgery with the knowledge that something would be cutting deep inside me to get to my heart. I was finally terrified.
After four or five hours of surgery, I was brought into the ICU place where I woke up a couple hours later to find flowers, stuffed animals, and my family were all there (only one could visit at a time though). I quickly fell back asleep.
I spent a week in that hospital, watching movies, playing games with visiting family and friends, playing bingo on the children's hospital network, and watching the amount of fluid run out of my chest into a tube where it fell into a measuring bucket thing. I was given three large meals each day after that surgery, letting me choose what I wanted to eat, so my recovery and my mood were improving with time.
I don't think I could ever forget any of these memories. Sometimes when I think about everything that happened, my chest starts to ache in remembrance. And if you're wondering about how my Pericardial Effusion was caused, we still don't know how it happened. But it has caused many repercussions, I now have had flares of Pericarditis (a smaller version of Pericardial Effusion) throughout these last seven years, and will for probably the next eight years. But who knows? I could stop having the flares way before that. Since time has progressed, the flares have become farther apart and lesser. I usually get a flare up maybe one a year now, and the way to treat it is so much easier since it is taking Prednisone for a month or so.
I live with the knowledge that I could get it again at anytime, and rarely talk about it unless someone asks. The reason? I don't think it is at all harder than what trials others go through. Like I said, just different.
No comments:
Post a Comment