I have a few “fears”…. I guess we all do. Or we’re lying
about it. I remember being a kid and being afraid of walking to my bed when the
light was off. I couldn’t reach the
light switch from my bed and I didn’t like sleeping with the light on. My fix
to that situation was to leap like an Olympian from the doorway to my bed. I
was quite good at it. What exactly is fear?
The online dictionary I use frequently says, “ Fear, noun, (1) a distressing emotion aroused by impending danger, evil, pain, etc., whether the threat is real or imagined;” It’s important to note that the definition
painfully points out “real or imagined.”
Fear. I also have an unnatural
fear of flying insects that look angry and have the capability to sting me since
being stung multiple times by really ticked off wasps as a youngster (my
sister’s fault).
Fear. My battle with heart disease began when I was
in labor with my first child and continued to deteriorate over time and with my
second pregnancy. For almost 9 years, I
have silently feared that somehow I passed along a mutant gene that would cause
my child(ren) to inherit various shapes and forms of heart disease since then. Over the
years, I’ve often been asked if I passed my disease along to my children or if
I inherited my ‘heart issues’ from my parents.
As I spoke the words, “No…. my heart conditions are not considered
hereditary,” I often wondered in the back of my head if that was really true.
Fear. Last Friday night, after finally settling the kids into bed,
my oldest son…. Very handsome, intense, funny, dramatic, athletic, 8 year old
(almost 9) boy says, “Mommy, come feel my chest.” I immediately became sick to my stomach. Somehow, I intuitively knew what that meant. Each
step toward the bed where he was laying felt like I had on cement shoes (which
isn’t out of the realm of possibility since I am Italian). I sat on the edge of the bed. His small hand
reached for mine and placed it ever so gently on his chest. I closed my eyes and drew in and held a long
breath. It felt as if my head would
implode as I felt to all too familiar hard and irregular heartbeats in his
chest. I wanted to scoop him up, squeeze
him tightly and collapse in a fit of fear and rage. I was so relieved that the room was dark to
prevent him seeing the blood drain from my body. I choked back the tears and suggested that
he just relax and take a few deep breaths.
I tried to reassure him that what he was experiencing was quite normal
for many people, including kids. Which is true… doctors have told me that for
years… I’ve regurgitated that when asked to speak for groups or at meetings…. Or when I’ve been asked in one-on-one conversations. After several minutes, his heartbeat seemed to
return to normal. I was leaving the room
as he was drifting off to sleep I remembered I was holding my breath. As I closed
the door behind me, I gasped for a breath and was quickly reduced to a heap on
the living room floor. I could hear me
talking to out loud, reassuring myself that this was quite normal, and to be
safe I would call the doctor to schedule a physical and a heart evaluation (to
include a blood pressure evaluation, 12-lead EKG (electrocardiogram) and an
echocardiogram, AKA echo). All of that
would certainly quell my fear. Right?
My husband suggested that he take the boy to the pediatrician
and when we arrived at the cardiologist stage…. THEN I would attend. Only after
I gave him several minutes of both verbal and written instruction, I
conceded. The appointment was scheduled
for Wednesday. As I suspected, the
pediatrician did not hear anything abnormal when listening to my son’s heart
through a stethoscope. Ain’t that always
the way?? This is when my hubby was
informed that the pediatrician cannot order an echo. The only way to have an
echo is to jump through several hoops that would make any circus clown
cringe. After a quick consult with my
husband over the phone, I asked him to jump through those hoops. So off they went. Hoop #1: blood work. Completely expected yet despised by the
kid. Somehow, when a needle is produced
within a 10-foot radius, the kid develops super human strength that would rival
that of a comic book hero. Hoop #2:
leave the hospital building where the pediatrician’s office is and transport
the now ‘jabbed’ and VERY suspicious kid to a different local hospital to be
seen by a technician to conduct the 12-lead EKG.
EKG’s are relatively painless with the exception of the removal of
the hairs on your arms, legs and chest where the sticky pieces for the
electrodes go and are often removed abruptly by the tech – it’s all good. Hoop #3: WAIT. Ugh!
Apparently, the process is to have the EKG done…. Then wait for someone,
a Cardiologist hopefully, to read the report, then hopefully said Cardiologist
with call the pediatrician and discuss the results. Most people I know…. Don’t do well with the
wait… but that’s where we are. Allegedly, if the EKG is “normal”, which I
completely expect it to be…. We do not qualify for an echocardiogram regardless
of our willingness to pay for it out of our own pocket. Of course, I got hot and bothered over that
information. After my husband talked me
down from that ledge, I agreed to wait for the results of the EKG and THEN ask/tell
the pediatrician we want to have the boy evaluated by a cardiologist… if THAT
is what is necessary to get this kid an echo, that I willing to pay out of
pocket for.
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I don’t understand. An
estimated 20 young, active kids die EVERY day in the U.S. from sudden cardiac
death for various reasons. Cardiologists know that you cannot detect a
structural defect by listening to the heart or seeing how it behaves in an EKG.
Some conditions may be detected that way, but not all. We also know that electrical issues in the
heart that cause irregular heart beat (aka arrhythmias) are incredibly
difficult to diagnose. I get the fact that we are tied to the medical insurance
rules and regulations. But I’ve already
told you that I will pay for the echocardiogram out of my own purse… So tell me
again, WHAT ARE WE WAITING FOR?? Listen, I am all about playing by the rules.
The rules are there for a reason.
Respect the rules! Where I get
sideways is when the rules DON’T MAKE SENSE.
There is a FAMILY HISTORY (risk factor) of heart disease. The kid had an
“event” (risk factor). I’m willing to bear the costs associated with getting
him tested (obstacle)! Let’s do this!
I’m not any different from many of you, my stupendous
readers! I’m a pseudo-normal, funny, passionate, understanding parent until….. you mess with my kids. Then I become, a finger pointing, voice-raising,
head shaking, “Oh no you didn’t”, kinda mom that tends to become terse and very
outspoken. I’ll own that. Don’t. Mess.
With. My. Kids. So… in the meantime, I
will do my best to continue jumping through the hoops in order to ensure my kid
is ok. I will not rest until I do. My advice
to you? Do NOT take no for an answer.
Think about it this way… NEVER put yourself in a position to say, “I
should have___________ but now it’s too late!”
I love ya peeps!! Peace. Out.
Ok - enough of that. Somehow, I was convinced that the kids should come with me to the DMV. That didn't bother me as much as the apprehension I was feeling about which location to go to. At one point last year, ALL DMV offices were CLOSED except the downtown location for Jefferson County. That's about 900,000 people! Pandemonium at the DMV! People standing in lines for 4 - 6 hours at a shot. But earlier this year, the county reopened a few of their offices. My strategy initially was to go to a large center in the northwest corner of the county. My concerned hubby poo-pooed that idea since it was in a not-so-nice area of town. I conceded. I selected the downtown location. It was close by and the thought was that the general population won't contend with the downtown its traffic and terrible metered parking. 
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