Colonoscopies, Cell Phones, and Messages from the Great Beyond

I looked at the date of my last post, and it's been two weeks since I've written anything!  Wow!  Where does the time go?  I've just been swamped with life, and haven't had time to write.  Plus, to be perfectly honest, we've been so busy that I haven't had any noteworthy thoughts to share anyway.  A writing dry-spell, so to speak.  Well, I have a lengthy story to share today.  Go grab a drink and a snack before you start reading.

All set?  OK, here goes:

About ten days ago, I noticed a significant amount of blood during one of Andrew's bowel movements.  The whole toilet bowl was pink, and when I wiped him, quarter sized clumps of blood were on the toilet paper.  The bleeding didn't continue after he was done, and he didn't seem ill or in pain in any way.  I called my mom (my mom is a nurse and my dad is a doctor), and they said that if he seemed OK, he probably didn't need to go to the E/R, but that the doctor should be called in the morning.  He went to his ice skating lesson, had a great time, and didn't complain or seem sick in any way.  The following morning, I called his pediatrician and we went for a check up.  She didn't see any tears or visible signs of trauma, so she sent us for some blood tests and an x-ray.  After the x-ray, she called us back to her office to say that she felt that he should be seen by a pediatric GI specialist in Pittsburgh, to rule out some significant health risks.  We made the appointment for the following Tuesday, but he had another bloody episode in the mean time.  I called the on-call doctor and she said if he was acting fine, to let him go, but if he seemed to be in pain, take him to the E/R.  He was fine, so I kept him home and sent him to school the next day.  The on-call doctor told me that they would probably do a colonoscopy on him in Pittsburgh, but that it was probably just a polyp.

Now, I am not someone who freaks out about medical procedures.  In fact, I think I tend to be a little cavalier about them.  If a doctor wants an MRI, fine.  Blood tests?  Sure, here's my arm.  Needle biopsy?  OK.  I'll grit my teeth and do it.  Don't get me wrong, I don't find them pleasurable, but I'm also not ridden with anxiety about tests or about the potential results.  I'm young and healthy, so is Greg and so are our kids.  The chances of something major being wrong with any of us is slim.  Yes, it could happen, but it's not probable.  While I feel bad that the boys are scared or uncomfortable during procedures, I don't feel panicked about the situation.  I reassure them that they are fine, and when it's all over, we go for ice cream.  No biggie.  That's genuinely how I feel...most of the time.

This time, however, I felt differently.  First of all, I had a very strong gut feeling that there was nothing majorly wrong with Andrew.  Just like I don't freak out about medicine, I also don't frequently get strong gut feelings.  And when I do get gut feelings, I don't usually pay them much attention.  I try not to make decisions based on emotions, because I think that can lead to some pretty dumb choices.  This gut feeling was different as well.  It was so strong, it was pervasive.  It nagged at me all day for nearly two weeks.  I just felt like he was healthy and we (read: doctors) were over reacting.  I felt very strongly about not wanting to put him through all of those invasive tests.  The blood tests and x-rays were plenty.  They were both normal, and wouldn't you think that if he had some kind of major intestinal bleeding, the blood work would be off?  There was no evidence of a major health concern aside from the bloody stools.  His demeanor was fine, activity level was fine, appetite was perfect.  I was not looking at a sick child.  I wanted to wait and observe him for a little while before we started poking and prodding him.  I couldn't convince anyone that my opinion was right, however.  Not one person I talked to felt that it was a good idea to wait, so I relented.  I didn't want to be the cause of something irreversible being found two months from now, if it could be easily treated right now.  I felt like a terrible mother, saying that I didn't want testing to be done on my child, so we did whatever the doctors wanted.

We drove to Pittsburgh on Tuesday, and met with a pediatric GI specialist at the UPMC Children's Hospital Wexford branch.  They were concerned about some of Andrew's medical history in conjunction with the bleeding.  When he was little (1-3), he would get unexplained rashes.  They were bad enough that we had him seen by a pediatric dermatologist at Children's Hospital.  At that point, they found nothing alarming, and simply said that he had sensitive skin and was probably prone to noncontagious rashes.  They gave us a steroid cream and an excuse for day care stating that he should not be excluded from care, because he was no threat to other children.  Then, when he was about 2, he started getting fevers.  He had a fairly constant fever for about 8 months.  It would go away for a few days and then return.  Nothing we did would cure the fevers, so again, we took him to Children's.  They were afraid he possibly had some kind of autoimmune disorder, but the results of that visit were also inconclusive.  They couldn't find anything wrong with him, and eventually, the fevers mostly stopped.  He still gets fevers from time to time, with no other symptoms, but nothing like he did between November and June of 2009/2010.  On top of those two things, he was born with a rare, but benign neurological immaturity that caused half of his body to periodically turn purple.  It literally looked like someone drew a line down the center of his torso and colored the left half of him purple.  It was unnerving, but not life-threatening, and eventually he outgrew it.  He also has an insignificant heart murmur, which sent us to a lengthy visit with a pediatric cardiologist about a year ago.  All four of his heart valves are leaking, but none significantly enough that we need to worry.  He has no restrictions, and we are to follow-up in two years.   Seriously, this kid can't just get a cold!  It always has to be something bizarre, requiring specialist scrutiny, only to be deemed harmless.  It's nerve-wracking!  So, with his health history in mind, they ordered more tests - more blood work and a stool culture, a nuclear dye scan, and a colonoscopy and endoscopy.

The blood work and stool sample were not troublesome.  He didn't particularly like having blood drawn, but he recovered from it quickly.  He also didn't particularly care for pooping in a hat (and I can't say that we were thrilled about collecting and transporting the poop either), but he did it without much ado.  It was the other tests that were more troubling.  The hospital was able to do the nuclear dye scan while we were there on Tuesday, so we drove from Wexford to the city for the exam, making sure Andrew didn't eat or drink anything.  I have never had a nuclear dye test, and I guess I just wasn't thinking about how it would be.  I didn't realize that they would have to start an IV, which upset him.  He fussed, but he didn't really resist.  He pleaded with them, "but I already gave my blood!"  Then he just cried, and looked at me with the most pitiful expression I have ever seen.  Andrew is a tough kid.  He doesn't get worked up about much, and he's not afraid of much either.  I have never seen that expression on his face before.  It went right through me, grabbed my heart and twisted it.  He was so compliant, no smart alec remarks, no struggle, just sheer bewilderment.  It was all I could do not to start sobbing in front of him.  They restrained him in this giant Velcro papoose, and had him lay still for over an hour while they followed the dye through his system.  Again, they were so nice.  They explained what was going on.  They brought him movies.  They talked to him gently.  I just felt terrible putting him through that.  He was terrified, and I was the one who held him down while they started the IV.  That's a hard thing to stomach.

On the way home, I told Greg, I don't know how parents with chronically ill children handle it.  I can't imagine putting my child through treatments and tests on a routine basis.  It would kill me to look into his eyes, with that expression, over and over and over.  I have always had that opinion.  I can't imagine many parents think that it would be easy to have a chronically ill child, but after this week, I have a much deeper appreciation for how they feel.  It's so terribly sad.

Again, that nagging feeling in my gut.  I just couldn't shake it.  It was so bad that I actually considered that I was having some kind of premonition that he should not go under anesthesia.  Maybe I had some kind of 6th sense telling me that there would be some freak accident during the procedure.  (Really, I don't think that I am psychic in any form whatsoever.  This is not an option that I would routinely, or really ever, consider when making decisions).  There's also the unnerving fact that Andrew has been talking about death, specifically his own, for months now.  He asks me, almost daily, what happens when we die, who in our family will die first.  He asks if he is going to die first.  He says repeatedly that when we die, we go to heaven until God wants us to be a baby again and then we come back to Earth.  I don't know where these thoughts came from.  We don't talk about death at home.  He says none of his friends at school are talking about it.  It has crossed my mind that maybe he knows something I don't.  Kids aren't jaded, they don't block out the things that adults do.  Maybe God has spoken to him.  Maybe not.  Maybe it's just pre-school curiosity.  Still, I don't like those conversations, and the recollection of the death talk, coupled with my uncharacteristic anxiety made me more than a little on edge.  I really, really, really didn't want him to have that procedure.  I didn't want to put him through the cruelty of the prep, and I didn't want to send him to his ultimate death after having been tortured by us for a week!  I understand how irrational that reasoning is, though, so we went through with the surgery, against my gut.

On Thursday, Greg stayed home with Andrew and started the prep for the colonoscopy.  He was amazing!  He didn't complain at all.  He didn't fuss about being hungry, and I know he had to be starving.  Andrew doesn't drink soda, so he wouldn't drink the ginger ale or Sprite that we had.  He doesn't like Jell-O, so he wouldn't eat any of the numerous flavors I made.  He didn't care for the Italian Ice.  He drank all of the Gatorade with the Mirlax in it, but he didn't drink any more Gatorade after that, not surprisingly.  He basically had water and Popsicles for 36 hours with no complaints.  None.  I don't know many adults who could do the prep with such little fuss.  I was more than impressed with him.

On Friday morning, we left home around 7 a.m.  He was allowed to have apple juice and water until 8 a.m.  He cried a little about being hungry in the morning, but only a few times, and the episodes were short-lived.  He was wonderfully cooperative during the registration process.  They took him back for surgery around 12, and they let me go into the O/R with him until he was fully sedated, which was such a nice option.  When Jake had his various surgeries, I always had to part with him in the hallway.  With Andrew, I was able to walk the whole way back with him, hold him for a little while, and reassure him while they put him to sleep.  He was scared.  When we entered the O/R, I think the sight of all of those big machines was overwhelming.  He started to cry right away.  I picked him up, and hugged him while they put the oxygen monitor on his finger.  He sat on the bed, and the anesthesiologist let Andrew put scented chapstick (or something that looked like scented chapstick) inside the mask, so the gas smelled good.  He fought the mask, though, even with the bubble gum scent.  We had to lay him down, and I laid across his chest to hold him while the doctor put the mask over him.  They didn't really restrain him much, though.   He put the mask over him, let him take a breath, then when Andrew moved his head to the other side, he did the same.  Andrew didn't like it.  He was crying, but it could have been a lot worse.  It didn't take long until he was out, and I was escorted out, with a huge knot in my belly.

Obviously, he didn't die.  I don't know why I was so anxious.  Maybe it's because he's the baby.  Maybe I'm just getting softer in my old age!  Whatever it was, it was unfounded.  The results of the scope were good.  She saw some inflammation, which she biopsied, but she didn't see anything major on either end of his digestive tract.  She felt that the most likely cause of the bleed was a juvenile polyp that ruptured and detached on its own.  There's a slight possibility that it could be something else, but it's not likely.  He came out of the anesthesia well.  He slept for probably close to an hour after the surgery, and when he got up, he was fine.  No stomach upset and no emotional upset.  He asked for a slushie as soon as he was lucid enough to talk.  After we were discharged, we went to the hospital cafeteria and he ate chicken soup, crackers and 16 ounces of milk.  I was really nervous that he was going to overload his stomach and puke all over the place.  But he was starving and kept begging us for food.  They told us to keep his intake light and liquid for the day of the procedure, and not to give him anything during the car ride home.  We tried to restrict him for a little while, but eventually we just gave up.  I couldn't take the pleading.  On the ride home he had 3 packs of fruit snacks, a breakfast bar, a juice box and a 16 ounce bottle of water!  He did not get sick, thank God.  When we got home, he had a piece of pizza and a big bowl of chocolate ice cream.  Yesterday, he ate everything in sight.  I think he's finally satisfied, because today his appetite is a little more normal.

What an ordeal the last two weeks has been!  We are all glad to be returning to some normalcy, or at least as normal as we get!  I will say this:  the experience we had under Children's Hospital's care was outstanding.  Not a single person was even remotely rude.  Everyone was amazingly friendly.  There was no confusion or disorder at all.  They were efficient and kind, and we couldn't have asked for better care while we were there.  I was very impressed with the hospital, the doctors, the nurses, and everyone else we came into contact with.  Kudos go out to UPMC Children's Hospital!

I hope that this ordeal is all over now.  I still feel like we put him through all of that for nothing.  I guess I shouldn't solidify that opinion until the biopsy results come back, though.   I am grateful that everything is fine, and that we have the peace of mind that he is healthy.  I just wish that I hadn't been the one to look him in the eye while we restrained, poked and prodded him.   I hope that this experience doesn't make him afraid of doctors now.  I hope he forgets most of it, especially the parts where I ignored his pleas for help and forced him to comply.

In the midst of all of the health drama with Andrew (and a bunch of other stress that doesn't need to be mentioned in detail), my iPhone erased all of my contacts.  I tried to make a call on Wednesday, and the phone app wouldn't open.  It just kept blinking open and then flashing back to the home screen.  I shut the phone off, waited a few minutes and turned it back on.  When I opened the phone app, my contact list was blank!  Every text message that I had sent was identified only by the cell phone numbers.  I was absolutely deflated.  I didn't have time to re-enter all of those contacts, and many of them, I will never get back.  What a major bummer!  I posted on Facebook to see if anyone knew how to retrieve my information.  I got some suggestions, but still, the bulk of my contacts were gone.  I asked everyone to send me their contact information so I could put it back in my phone, and as they came through, that's exactly what I did.

Later that evening, I received a message from my aunt who lives in upstate New York.  She had gone to see a medium earlier that day and at the end of the reading, the medium told her that my grandmother was going to send me a sign by messing with my cell phone!  She told my aunt a number of other things that were spookily accurate too.  Now, you can argue that a medium is just someone who is very good at reading people, and I agree that some of them are not really mediums, but rather con-artists who play on people's emotions.  However, I also believe that people are given different gifts, and I don't rule out the possibility that communicating with the spirit world is one of those gifts.  I know that cell phones are notorious for periodically erasing contact lists, but I can't ignore the timing of this.  Betsy didn't know that my phone was messed up until well after her appointment with the medium, and I didn't even know that she was going to see a medium.  How many times have I told people, "if you are trying to reach me, use my cell phone."  I always have it with me.  I'm always on it - either talking, texting or checking my email.  If you use my cell phone, I will get the message.  Apparently, that's true of messages from the great beyond as well!  Since talking to my aunt, I have toyed with the fact that it could still just be a coincidence.  Almost everyone has a cell phone, and people have issues with cell phones every day.  But it's just a little too timely for me to believe that it was a simple coincidence.  I believe it's quite possible that my grandmother has been sending me signs all along, but that I ignored them, writing them off as flukes, or that I just plain didn't notice.  Subtlety was never my strong point.  What better way than to take the opportunity to tell my aunt, so that she could make me aware, and then to completely trash my contact list?  I got the message loud and clear this time!  It's more than happenstance, if you ask me.  My grandmother's picture is on the background of my phone.  Every time I open it, I see her, and now, every time I use it, I think of her!

The phone oddities actually started on Tuesday, during Andrew's nuclear scan.  I was feeling really bad about him at that time, and I was in the midst of texting my mother about his situation.  Every text that my mom sent me came through in symbols instead of in readable words.  Maybe my grandmother was trying to reassure me that she was watching over Andrew, that he was going to be fine.  His colonoscopy was done on her birthday, and she died from colon cancer.  I don't know.  Maybe those things are connected, maybe not.  Like I said, I'm choosing to believe that they are, that she was with me and, more importantly, that she was with Andrew during the last week, especially on Friday.  It was a comfort when I needed comforting, and that's what grandmothers do.

I'm tapped from the events of the last week, but I'm also feeling a tremendous sense of relief on many levels.  I hope that the near future is smooth sailing.  We all need a little break!  Today, the sun is shining and the temperature is perfect.  I'm going to round up the boys, head out to Roaring Spring and feed the ducks at the dam.  I think we all need to bask in the fresh air and sunshine, and just appreciate the simple things.  So, that said, I'm signing off now.  I've got some ducks to feed!