Not Just Another Sunday.... Part 2

Casey called the ambulance, left a message for the doctor and called my sister, who was already on her way over. Before long, our house was a fury of activity. Kelsi was trying to pack us a bag but was also terrified and sobbing. The camp founder's wife had slipped in and was by my side praying quietly and peacefully over me. Our camp director, who is EMT trained, had come in to check on my vitals and just be there until we were on the ambulance. Others were trying to make sure they were with my other kids and keeping them in an area of Camp where they wouldn't see the ambulance when it came in. Friends were on the porch praying and looking stunned.

Casey was fanning me over and over while a couple people kept rotating out cool wash clothes for my forehead. All my strength had left and what little I had was spent on staying concious. I was praying, reciting scripture in my head, focusing on objects, memories,.... basically anything I could do to keep controlled, relaxed and "alert". I knew that if I lost it, it would only be worse for me.

I was also ocassionally pleading with Casey, whether in a few words or in look, for him not to let me slip out of it again. I truly felt that I wouldn't come back. Now, let me just say with certainty that I'm not afraid to die. I am so thankful that my heart and life belongs to the Lord and that I have eternal salvation through Jesus Christ. I can't wait to get to heaven, now or in 50 years! (Of course, I feel that my work here isn't done as long as I have 7 children to raise but even that's not for me to say.) My life is in the Lord's hands for however long I'm here. I just hope that when my time comes, as it will for everyone on this temporary earth, that it will be peaceful. What I experienced last Sunday was anything but peaceful. It was horrific!

I was also pleading for that ambulance to come. We knew we could have made it to the hospital faster than the ambulance could get here but I couldn't get to the car or ride in the car. I also knew that being taken right into the ER from the ambulance would be smoother. So I focused on seeing the ambulance pull up. Two people here at Camp went to the camp entrances to guide the drivers to our house and to also have them turn sirens off so that my children wouldn't be made aware of what was going on. 

It took 35 minutes for the ambulance to arrive! Apparently they have 2 vehicles and one was already on a call close to us and the other had to come from Macon, which is where we were heading.  The 3 paramedics on the ambulance were very kind, compassionate and caring, which is very important to me. But unfortunately, when it came to the technical part of their job, well... that's another story.

First of all, there is a widely used and taught assessment for this condition that emergency responders should be aware of. I had all of the markers they should have been looking for. "The overall mortality risk depends on the speed of diagnosis, the treatment provided, and the underlying cause of the tamponade (mine was recent heart surgery). Untreated, the condition is rapidly and universally fatal." And so, as our responders became aware of the state of my vital signs, all of which unarguably pointed towards this condition, they remained clueless and chose to drive 40 miles to the hospital with no lights or sirens and at regular speed, stopping at every stop sign and light. One of the men told me reassuringly that they chose to drive at that speed so that they wouldn't make me concerned or anxious. I mentioned that they were thoughtful, right??? I was actually thinking the entire ride that I will feel so much better when my care was out of their hands and in the care of the hospital staff. They also stopped before pulling into the hospital because they remembered that they hadn't called in yet to let the ER staff know that they were bringing me in (please refer to bold print above). They didn't want to get in trouble, so they backed up and called in before they would become visible to the folks in the ER. Between that and some of the questions they asked ( "Do you have a history of chest pain?" - Uh, I have 35 staples in a 6-7 inch incision down the center of my chest.... YES! I have chest pain!!), I felt very much like we were in an episode of green acres.

Unfortunately, when we were brought in to the critical care unit of the ER, my care was very much the same. No one was rushing or had any sense of urgency about them at all. There were several times that Casey and I were the only ones left in the room. My eyes would plead for him to do something to help me and to speed things up but I also didn't want him to leave my side because he was fanning me and that was the only comfort I had from head to toe. 

One of the big hold ups in the ER (as it was in the ambulance) was that no one could get my pulse ox. Instead of realizing that my heart was failing and my pressures were to weak to detect, they spent all sorts of time trying different equipment, cords and even getting oximeters from the pediatric area. No one seemed to realize that my heart was failing and I was quickly dying. Even the MD on call came in, introduced himself and told me they would do a few tests through out the day to see if I was having gall bladder or other similar problems because of my stomach pains. It was as if the fact that I had just had heart surgery was irrelevant to him.  I reminded him that it wasn't "stomach" pain per say but that I was feeling a sensation of fullness and pain in my upper abdomen and that I was nauseated but that I needed something quickly and couldn't hold on much longer. 

FYI- That light blue area is where the fluid was collecting. Over the course of the next couple of days, I had over 1,000 ccs of fluid drained from that area. Can you, with or without medical training, guess why my upper abdomen felt "full" and was sore to the touch??? 

I know, like us, you're at least in SMH mode about the medical staffs' lack of urgency and knowledge but here's where and why none of that matters: The Lord numbers my days and He's in control. Some may trust in horses (medical staff), some may trust in chariots (ambulances?) but we trust in the name of our God. My help comes from the Lord, and ultimately, He put the things in place for my life to be spared and here I am to write about it and to give Him the glory. Even when the surgeon was at my bedside after the initial surgery 2 weeks ago and I thanked him for what he did for me, he humbly responded with a heavenward gesture and said, "Don't thank me, thank Him."

Finally, the MD did an echo on my heart per phone instructions from my heart surgeon, who was on his way. After literally 2 seconds of viewing my heart, he ran to call the surgeon and tell him that there was a lot of fluid around my heart. It didn't look good but at least we were finally getting somewhere.

In the mean time, my hands had turned dark purple. My feet, which I couldn't see, were numb, tingling and ICE cold. And before long, I felt a very cold sensation taking over. My heart was shutting down and was ceasing to deliver blood to my extremities. I was weakly telling these things to Casey as he tirelessly fanned me in an effort to keep me concious. I did lose conciousness again, not sure how many times, one or two maybe, and woke up convulsing and vomiting. Not fun:(

When the heart surgeon arrived, he began to put a fire under everyone. He quickly brought in an ultrasound tech and I remember him commenting out loud to her that there was more fluid than there was heart and that the entire right side of my heart was compressed from the fluid. At some point he leaned in to me, asked me to open my eyes and look at him while he let me know that he would be taking me back into surgery to reopen part of my incision and create a window into the sac around the heart so he could drain the fluid. 

He quickly began to get things in place for surgery and then returned to my side to monitor my blood pressure. The last time Casey remembers seeing my blood pressure reading, it was 60/30 and with that, our very competent surgeon rolled my bed himself towards the operating room.

I guess there will have to be a part 3 to this because that's enough for me today:)

Not Just Another Sunday

I was doing great in my open heart recovery. Great, I tell you. I was actually surprised with how smoothly everything was going. I was taking it easy and mixing short periods of light activity followed by rest, just like the doctor ordered. My range of motion was increasing and my pain level was decreasing. Each day, I felt stronger than the day before.

Then Saturday, 12 days after my surgery, I woke up from my nap feeling like my upper abdomen was a little tight. I thought that maybe I had sunk too far down in the recliner and that my abdominal area had been a bit bent while I slept. I walked a little that afternoon, sat outside while I watched my sister play with the kids on the playground and then had dinner at the cafe here at Camp. After dinner, my stomach still didn't feel quite right but it wasn't alarming. I just felt so full even though I hadn't eaten very much for dinner.

At bed time, I was still feeling a bit sick but it seemed to be my stomach, not my heart. By 11:00 PM, I called to Casey in the bedroom to bring me a pot. I was not feeling well at all but could only say that my upper stomach felt full and that I was nauseated. I attributed the full feeling to indigestion.

When I woke up Sunday morning, the house seemed empty. The family was at the Camp cafe for breakfast. I went to the bathroom but could barely make it back to the couch without passing out. My upper abdomen was painful, uncomfortable and I thought I was going to throw up any moment. I lay on the couch wondering what was wrong when my oldest child came into the room. I was so happy that I was not alone.

She saw that I wasn't feeling well and was so sweet to ask what she could do to help me. I wasn't even sure. I felt that I needed my pain medication but didn't want to take it on an empty stomach. I couldn't eat, however, because my stomach was so upset. I decided I needed to get up and walk to see if I could get the full feeling gone, which I was sure was gas (Hey, I'd had a lot of medications running through my system!). She helped me stand up but I was back on the couch in no time because I was so faint.

We decided to call Casey but thankfully he came in right then. We just didn't know what to do or what was wrong. He wanted to call the doctor but I didn't want to bother him on a Sunday. We finally agreed to call our sweet friend Dottie who was a cardiac nurse. After hearing my symptoms, she advised me to call the doctor right away or to go straight to the ER or even call an ambulance. I told her there was no way I was going to call an ambulance but that I would put a call into the doctor. Dottie told me that she thought my issue had something to do with too much fluid so I called for a scale before calling the doctor. I had been weighing myself at the same time everyday per discharge orders to watch for extra fluid retention.

It took all the strength I had to walk a few steps to the scale and get back to the couch. I had gained 5 pounds in 24 hours- not good. After that, things spiraled out of control and went down hill very quickly. I went from thinking I had indigestion to feeling like I was hanging between life and death in just a matter of minutes. After being on the couch for a few minutes, I lost conciousness in a very painful and scary way. Casey says when I came to, I was convulsing and vomiting. I was ready to go to the hospital and was even ready to call an ambulance- a huge deal for me....

I will finish this post tomorrow. I'm ready to call it a day:)

Crowd Support

One of the huge draws to running the Boston marathon is the intense crowd support. Basically the whole city of Boston comes out to stand along the 26 mile race course. It seems to me that their only goal is to make each runner feel like they're the only one they came to see and that they're in first place. Somehow, in the sea of faces and the thousands of runners, the crowd actually accomplishes just that. And it's that motivation and transfer of energy that keeps the runners going.

I didn't get to run Boston this year because I was newly recovering from open heart surgery. I missed the race expo and all of the city-wide, pre-race hype. I didn't get to be there for the remembrance that would take place in honor of last years' tragedy. I didn't get to ride the bus to the athletes village and sit in the fields at the village talking pacing with other runners. I missed the starting corrals and the starting line. And of course, for the second year in a row, I didn't cross that famous finish line. But...

... I didn't miss out on the crowd support.

I have been running a race of a different kind. Each step has taken great strength and determination. That strength has come from the Lord and through the many loved ones who have been, and are still, cheering me on. I feel as though every step of the way, the course has been lined on both sides with crowd support. 

Just like in Boston, I have been cheered for and cheered up. I have received prayer, encouragement, cards, monetary help, meals, texts, visits, childcare, phone calls and so much more. 

It's just like running the marathon but with out the fanny pack!

Thank you! We couldn't be running this race without you!

Not. So. Mundane.

Wow. I can't believe my last blog post (which was forever ago) was entitled "Mundane." How ironic that things are anything but mundane around here now! Here I sit, in my 30's, a mother of seven, an accomplished runner, healthy eater, seat-belt wearer, tooth flosser, caffeine shunner, alcohol avoider , sunscreen enthusiast, non-smoker.... you get the point... and I'm having open heart surgery in just a few days. The first thing my surgeon said when he entered the exam room last week was, "Well, you're not my typical bypass candidate."  It is definitely strange to sit in the waiting rooms at the specialists' offices with all of the elderly , sickly and those patients with a lifetime of neglected health. I'm even pretty sure that I was voted "Least Likely to Ever need Heart Surgery" in high school. Or something like that. Anyway... because so many have asked, here's the story- in a nut shell- of how I got from there to here...

I have been an avid runner since I was in middle school. I competed in track and cross country all four years of high school and after graduation won the Collegiate National Cross Country Championships. No wait, that last part was someone else. All I did was make like Forest Gump and kept on running. I ran through all 7 of my pregnancies and even went into labor with baby #3 while on a run. I have competed in countless road races and 3 years ago pushed myself to the limit in training to qualify for the Boston Marathon. I did that- twice. I have run 7 marathons in all and at the beginning of this year, had started training for a return trip to Boston later this month.

I started having  heart palpitations when I was pregnant with my 5th child . My doctor had me do a holter (event) monitor test for 24 hours which came back normal. Seven months after having the baby (who is 9 now), I underwent brain surgery to fix a rare congenital brain malformation that showed up around that same time. Over the next few years, as I experienced more concerning heart symptoms, I chalked them up to the brain issue because the brain defect involved the portion of my noggin that controls the heart.

Eventually, I had more heart tests done but never could come up with an explanation for the symptoms. Two years ago, I was back at the cardiologists looking for answers. I went home without any and continued to push through the pain, reminding myself that the doctors can't find anything wrong and this must be my "normal". I threw myself into training and was logging 40-60 mile weeks.

By last October, faced with the reality that my symptoms were getting worse, I returned to the cardiologists for another echo. I curbed the training while I waited for the results and when they told me, yet again, that everything was fine, I was back in the gym and on the treadmill, training harder than ever.

Finally in January, with symptoms interrupting my daily life and regularly feeling like my heart was going to stop on me, I set my mind on getting an explanation, once and for all. I began to reason that perhaps it was related to my brain issue and that I just needed to see a doctor who would listen to me and help me piece things together. (*Insert much trouble with getting in to see a specialists and even more trouble with insurance here.)

After reviewing three past echocardiograms with a new cardiologist, it was looking like we had an answer but it was the worst possible answer I could think of: a terminal heart condition with no cure. The only way to know for sure was to do a heart cath. Thankfully, the heart cath came back negative for the terminal condition but did show something else. We followed up with a CT scan the next week which FINALLY diagnosed my condition, one that matches the symptoms I've been having for nine years. I was born with a rare but critical heart defect called "Anomalous Origin of the Right Coronary Artery with an Interarterial Course". This defect is one of the leading causes of Sudden Death.

(Hmmm... another rare congenital defect of a major organ. Isn't one of those per lifetime enough? I guess I got the short stick in the family gene pool. Fortunately I'm running out of major organs to have surgery on so I should be good to go after this one!)

I have to say that if you're going to be told that you have to have open heart surgery, the news comes much easier if it comes after thinking that you may have a terminal heart condition. They're like "You need surgery." And I'm all like, "Oh, is that all? At least it's not terminal!" 

Well, that's how I got to the not-so-mundane that I'm living in today. Now that I'm here, I have to choose what I'm going  to do with it. With confidence, I tell you that with the Lord's help, I'm going to be strong and courageous (Joshua 1:9) and that I am covered with the peace that passes all understanding (Phil 4:7). I will continue to trust that the Lord is my keeper (Psalm 121) and that I'm an Overcomer (Mandisa 2013 - ha ha!).

Disclaimer: I may cry on April 21st, one week after my surgery, but only because the Boston marathon will be going on without me:( 

 

The Mundane

Laundry. Dishes. School work. 
Today it's all mundane.
My Man calls to check in on us. I have nothing to report... "Just the usual."
He calls again a little later. He's at the hospital with a man whose daughter's young life hangs by a thread. 
Please pray, he begs. 
In the middle of the mundane, the children and I stop and pray. 
The mundane rolls on as the day presses. Lunch. Clean up. Stories. Naps. Just like all the other days.
He calls again, this time his voice hallow and with dread he tells me that a dear friend's father was killed in a tragic car crash. I sit because I can not stand through that news. 
Please pray, he insists for the second time today. 
I try to recover enough to get dinner into mouths. The mundane returns. Dinner. Dishes.... more of the same.
I walk out onto the porch, past the horses and marvel at the remarkable sunset in action. The same sky that is floating over our mundane is also hanging above dear ones who are in pain. I find it hard to comprehend how both can exist so closely. 
My heart tosses it all around and then sends thanks to the Father for the mundane for the mundane is truly a gift.

Pizza Night

What do you do when you find out at 3:30 in the afternoon that you're going to have 6 extra children for the evening, bringing the child count total to to 13?? You have a Pizza Night Fiasco Extragavanza!!

First you make a bunch of whole wheat pizza dough...

and split it up until you have enough for everyone.

Next is toppings!

The rest is just pure fun.

Grand Granola

This recipe is for my friends Jess and Sandy, who asked for it. It makes a lot, but since they each have five children, I don't think they will mind:)

First, you need a VERY big bowl. Perhaps your washing machine might be big enough because you have to put 8 cups of whole oat goodness in there. That's a lot of oats. Did I mention you need a big bowl?

Next put in 1 cup olive oil, 1 cup honey and 3 tablespoons of brown sugar. Then toss in 1 tsp. salt, 1 tsp. of vanilla and 1 tsp. of cinnamon. You can stop right there, mix it up and cook it at 350 until just before you burn it (if you wait any longer, it will be burned).

Or...

You can make the fancy kind.



For the fancy kind, you can add in a half cup of sunflower seeds or a half cup of chopped almonds or a half cup of walnuts or even pecans. Or you can do a half cup of each!

However, you do it, just know that you can bake it or you can keep it raw by putting it in your dehydrator for a very long time (like 12-14 hours??). If you put it in your dehydrator, it may all disappear before you can get it put away. The little fingers in my house like to snatch it up quickly.

Once it has cooled, you can mix raisins or dried cranberries in it. And, if you're blogging late at night and you want something sweet but still good for you, you can put some chocolate chips in it and then stick it in the microwave for about 20-25 seconds. Then you can mix it up and eat some yummy chocolate/granola goodness without anyone asking you for some because it's really late and you're the only one crazy enough to still be up. Not that I've done this, of course. And not that I'm doing it right now. I'm just saying "if". (And if you do, be sure to rinse out your bowl so no one will find it in the morning!)

Now, when you're not being an up-all-night troll, you can serve this to your children and/or hubby instead of boxed cereal for breakfast. Just add some almond milk (or cow's milk, if you drink that) and maybe even cut up some bananas into it- but only if you're banana-obsessed like I am. You can also mix it into some yogurt or use it in a trail mix. Or you can put it waaaaaaaaay on the back of the pantry shelf where none of your troll offspring can find it and it will be saved it for your healthy-eating self.
Anyway you dish it, you will be in granola heaven and your body will be, too:)