Download Workshop – EssayTwo

In God’s Hands
Could you hand your child to someone knowing in only a few minutes they would cut
open their chest? Nobody would want to, but what if you had to in order to ensure a healthy
future for them? That’s what I had to do when my son was only 3 months old and weighed only
8 pounds. He was diagnosed in uterus with Tetralogy of Fallot. It is the most common heart
defect in children. Tetralogy of Fallot accounts for 10-15% of all congenital heart defects. This
condition causes mixing of oxygen-poor blood with the oxygen-rich blood being pumped out of
the heart and into the circulatory system of blood vessels. The blood leaving the heart has less
oxygen than is needed by the organs and tissues of the body. Lack of oxygen causes cyanosis, a
bluish color of the skin, lips and membranes inside the mouth and nose. There are 4
abnormalities of the heart described by Fallot. There is narrowing or blockage of the pulmonary
valve and/or muscle under the pulmonary valve coming out of the right ventricle. Ventricular
septal defect (VSD), this is a hole in the heart wall that separates the 2 ventricles. The hole is
usually large and allows oxygen-poor blood in the right ventricle to pass through, mixing with
oxygen-rich blood in the left ventricle. The poorly oxygenated blood is then pumped out to the
rest of the body. The body gets some oxygen, but not all that is needed. There is abnormal
position of the aorta, which is the main artery carrying blood out of the heart and into the
circulatory system. The major issue with Tetralogy of Fallot is pulmonary valve stenosis (PS).
It was March 5th, 2007 and I had just finished up with my son’s cardiologist appointment.
Dr. Wagman and his nurses were a little concerned because my son’s EKG and Echocardiogram
had shown signs of more leakage throughout his heart. Dr. Wagman was going to get in touch
with the pediatrics team in St. Louis and see what they thought of the tests. Little did I know that
one hour later, Dr. Wagman would be calling me saying I needed to get my son to St. Louis by
the next morning to have a complete Tetralogy repair! We had never gone over the details of his
surgery because we thought it would be when he was almost a year old so I didn’t even know
what they were going to do to him. All I knew was they were going to cut open my son’s chest,
pull apart his rib cage and do things to make his heart work better. I was devastated. I knew there
was a chance I could lose my son and I didn’t know what to do. My younger sister helped me
pack while my mom and dad watched my son. The entire house was strangely quiet except for
the occasional coo from my son. My mom and brother were driving us up there because at the
time I didn’t have a car. I can honestly say that was the longest 4 hour drive of my life. Question
after question was going through my mind. Was this the last time I was going to get to spend
with him? Is he going to die? What if he never wakes up? What if they can’t repair his heart and
he needs a transplant? It was never ending and I cried silently the entire time. My brother was
trying to keep up a conversation with me, talking about little things. I knew he was only trying to
help but I was just not up to it. I was too worried about my son’s life. My mom just sat in the
front seat the entire time, looking back occasionally at us and smiling. I do remember being glad
that I had 2 people that I cared about being with me and help me through tomorrow.
We finally get to the Children’s Hospital around 10 pm. We would have been there
sooner but it is a pretty big place and we got lost a few times. At this point I was such a nervous
wreck I was snapping my brother’s and mom’s head off about anything. They know it was
intentionally and I still feel pretty guilty to this day. I know they were only trying to be
supportive and help me through all of this. We go to admitting and they take us to my son’s room
where the surgeon was waiting for us. In less than 10 minutes my son had numerous machines
hooked to him and I was signing stacks of release forms. I was so overwhelmed, I started crying
again. They had given my son a sedative to keep him calm and to make sure he was well rested. I
think it took my almost 2 hours to read and sign every consent form. I was a nervous wreck after
that. All a consent form does is tell you what could go wrong and at that point I felt like letting
my son have this surgery, I was killing him. Nobody had explained anything to me yet and I was
more confused and upset than ever. One of the nurses told me the surgeon would be back in the
morning and sit down with me to explain in detail what he was going to do. I felt a little relieved
but not enough to sleep. My mom, brother, and I took turns staying in the room with my son
throughout the night. I think I walked over 5 miles that night. I tried to lay down in one of the
parent’s room but all I did was toss and turn so I just gave up. Daybreak finally broke and it was
time. What I was dreading since I was 5 months pregnant was about to happen. The surgeon sat
down with me and told me what he was going to do. He was a very kind man who didn’t
sugarcoat a thing. He told me the risks but also told me the risks of him not having the repair. By
the end of the conversation I felt comfortable leaving my son’s life in his hands. By that time I
was running only on adrenaline and don’t remember a lot. I remember carrying my son down
long hallways and into this waiting room where other patients were waiting to have surgery.
Sitting there looking around the room wondering if these kids were having the same surgery or if
they had to have something different done. My son was the youngest in the room and could feel
the other parents looking at me with pity. I just sat there in the corner, rocking my son back and
forth, sobbing and telling him how much I loved him and he needed to be strong for mommy and
I would be waiting for him. I wish I could describe exactly how I felt when the surgeon’s nurses
came and took my son from me and I stood there in the hallway watching them walk away with
him. My heart shattered into a thousand pieces. I was in actually pain from being so heartbroken.
I didn’t know if that was the last time I would see my son alive.
My mom and brother were waiting for me in the surgery waiting room. They had told us
the entire surgery would take about 6 hours and they would send a nurse out every hour to keep
us updated with the progress. I sat in that chair the entire time waiting for that nurse. I didn’t
even leave to go to the bathroom or get something to eat or drink. I was too afraid. They had the
giant fish tank that had those fish in it from the Finding Nemo movie. I watched them swim and
watch the bubbles go to the top of the tank and pop. They sent out a nurse every hour as
promised and every time they came back with good news. They would tell me what they had
fixed already and how great he was doing. Every time I felt a huge ball of stress lift off my
shoulders. My brother and mom sat by my side the entire time except to go to the bathroom or
walk around the waiting room. We didn’t say much to each other the entire 6 hours but I couldn’t
have made it through that without them. It had been about 6 ½ hours when the nurse came back
in and said they were done and he was in recovery and waiting to see me. I was unbelievably
happy and overwhelmed. I remember feeling hot tears running down my face as I walked into
recovery and seeing my son lying in the tiny hospital bed. My heart sank. He still had blood and
iodine all over his chest and his mouth from where the intubated him. He had these tubes coming
out of his chest that was filling up with blood as I stood there. They had to tie down his arms so
he wouldn’t rip any of the tubes out. They had his incision covered up and I’m so glad because I
would have lost it at that point. He was still well sedated and would be for the next couple of
days. All I wanted was to see his big blue eyes looking back at me and I couldn’t. He was only
allowed one visitor at a time so I kissed him on his forehead and told him how happy I was to see
him and I loved him very much. For the next hour my brother and mom took turns going in and
talking with him. I wanted them to spend as much time with him as possible because they had to
leave that day and go back home. After they were done visiting, we let my son get some well
deserved rest and finally went to the café to get some food. I wasn’t hungry at all but forced
myself to eat because I knew I would need the strength. My mom and brother left that evening. It
was just me and my son. Within a few days they took out the breathing tube to see if he would
breathe on his own and he did. The next day they took him off his pacemaker to see if his heart
would be on his own and it did. The nurses and doctors were always telling me how great he was
doing and at this rate he would have a speedy recovery. On the 10th, my mom, dad, and younger
sister drove all the way up to see us. I couldn’t have been happier. It was tough being there alone
and not having any one you could really talk to. They spent all day with us, taking turns holding
Brayden and playing with him. By then he was awake and fully alert. They still had him on
Ativan, which is basically a tranquilizer to keep him as calm as possible. For hours we just sat in
his room talking and laughing and all felt right with the world again. They left that evening
because my dad had to be at work the next morning. We ended up staying a total of 15 days in
St. Louis. They were 15 of the longest, horrific, and sadist days of my life. My mom drove up to
take us home. It took a couple of hours to get discharged but they went by very quick. All I
wanted to do was to get home and be with my family and take a descent shower, and eat some
homemade food.
Seeing a child through surgery is a really tough thing to do. Not knowing if your child
will make it or not knowing if he is in good hands with the surgical team. Before having my son
I thought I had been there and done it all, but I was wrong. I know God would never put more on
my plate than he knows I could handle. This was truly a life lesson in so many aspects. I
appreciate the little things in life now. I don’t take my life for granted because those who do are
the ones who are missing out. I am a stronger person because of this experience and that has led
me to being a better person as well. My son, only 3 months old, showed me life is worth fighting
for.