Hearts love people... Taking a closer look at my heart

I am so blessed to have 6 little feet that run around the house like elephants every morning. Living in a tri-level house, it is so wondrous how their little feet and tiny body weight can make so much noise. But the noise comes from wonder, purpose and exploration. Those little feet in life make such loud stomps in their journey of learning about the world around them. If adults were filled with such wonder and hope of their surroundings, I couldn't imagine the volume of noise and chaos.

In mid October, I had a retinal artery branch occlusion. You can read a previous post about that story. Today is just an update.

I have been in and out of doctors' offices for the past 2 months. I found a great primary Physician that I hope will take on my children as patients. He feels like a doctor from my childhood. One that knows your name, your story, and works help you. He has referred me to surgeons, breast specialists, retina specialists, and cardiologists, etc. He has argued and questioned results that were subjective and may need further review, yet kept me safe by placing me in the hands of surgeons who will avoid unnecessary invasive procedures. I feel truly privileged and blessed to have access to a health care world I had neglected for years while keeping up with well and sick child pediatrician visits.

Thursday, I will go to Fort Sanders Regional Medical Center for a TEE. They will put me under sedation and take a closer look at my heart by placing a probe down my esophagus. Although it is almost impossible to determine what caused the painless loss of vision, this is the biggest suspect. I was born with a congenital heart defect, a bicuspid arotic valve. It is suspected to occur in 1-2% of people.  It has always been ignored by me and by others until now. My eyes glaze over when they start talking centimeters, diameters, velocity and flow of arteries and valves while my mind starts thinking of my 6 little feet who stomp around the house with purpose and wonder. Little bear says it best the last time he accompanied me the heart doctor. He points to the diagrams of hearts on the wall and tells me.."Hearts don't look like that. That is not beautiful. Hearts love people."

Today at the Ophthalmologist, who specializes in retinas, was a humbling experience. Every other patient in the room had their adult child as a companion. Those adult children could have been my parents. Their own parent patients likely cannot see very well and do not have many more years to live.  I sat there with my five year old with the hope that we could replay this scene in another 40 years when he is an adult and I am elderly. He was invited to watch the computer monitors projected images as machines scanned my eyes. Even I through my dilated pupils could see his wonder as he looked at the images on the monitor seeing something he never had imagined before. I doubt he will never look at an eye in the same way again. My Ophthalmologist once again confirmed my 20/20 vision with the huge deep hole of central vision in my right eye. It has improved with more lightening on the top half. And may improve slightly more in the next couple months, but beyond that it is what it is. He supported the scheduled TEE Thursday, as he agrees it could be calcification of the bicuspid aortic valve may that thrown an emboli. And how lucky I am that I only lost central vision in my eye as opposed to a stroke or heart attack. That could have been a very bad day. Scott had the very bad day when he lost his own mother from an embolism.

Like Little Bear stated: "Hearts love people." I am full of fear and very hopeful that my own heart sent a huge signal to me that it needs some attention and possible major surgery. That is a bunch of love right there, my Little Bear. My loving heart parents who live 1200 miles away coached me through choking down my first heart medicine while I cried my eyes out, as I didn't want to admit that I needed it. I am also hopeful that the findings look good with only the follow up appointment in 6 months. We will know more Thursday. In the meantime, stomping feet and loving hearts are my lifeline.

Life guarantee and warranty policy.

In life, there are guaranteed little victories to celebrate daily.

Today my cat cried from the cat porch in her Siamese voice to her family raking in the yard. The vet called her part Siamese the first time she met her despite her dominate tabby cat appearances. I never understood that until the first time I heard her cry. Or maybe it was the first time my husband ran outside to us wondering what could be wrong with the cat who sang with such a sadness he had not heard from a feline. This time she bellowed and hollered to me as she tiptoed down the deck steps. She had escaped directly to my captive arms, yet purred with delight that she was with us.

The past few weeks have taught me a lot about life. OHHH. yeah. There isn't any way I can describe the waiting rooms I have been sitting in for the past few weeks. The fatigue. The loneliness. The desperation. The simplicity. The complications. The history of people who have lived long lives. And ultimately, me sitting there. As a patient.

Everything has changed. Everything is so much more beautiful. I avoid negative. I hug my children more. My husband and I hug more. I don't even have time to cry or be mad. I just want to live.

There are no guarantees or warranties on life. As soon as you try to turn one in, you realize everything you have taken for granted. If you are lucky like me, you get to realize all those little things sitting in a room with other people waiting to live another day.

Sunshine in the Rain.

10 days ago, I had a retinal artery ocular occlusion. A stroke of the eye. It a painless obstruction or constriction or embolism of the retinal artery, and after many experiences of ocular migraines I thought my vision loss would come and go as it has so many times.

I have spent many hours being dilated, scanned, numbed, imaged, dyed, poked while bright lights shined in my eyes with my chin resting on cold paper covered metal. My pupil doesn't respond normally. Nobody knows how to chart it. I have begun to giggle when I see the puzzled looks on the technicians faces seeing things they only read about in text books. The only other option is to cry.  It isn't common. Visual recovery chance is low. I was told by two ophthalmologists that I would likely never regain complete vision in my right eye and there were no treatment options available for restoration. Tears fill my eyes every morning when the school bus alarm goes off, I open them, and I realize nothing has changed.

Guess what? Tonight when Scott was driving I closed my good eye. I saw headlights coming down the road. Sure. They were only like pin points compared to what one normally sees. But I could see them. I am going to beat all the odds and see faces and trees again out of my right eye.

Next week, my eye gets a break from the exams and I the rest of my body will be subject of evaluation. Retinal artery occlusion is a harbinger for other systemic diseases. Most people are almost twice my age when this occurs. Even then it is rare. There is a reason, and they will aggressively start trying to find it.  That scares me more that 100 ophthalmologists telling me that my partial loss of vision from one eye is permanent.

Scott and I need to find a new excuse to have lunch together. I have to admit, that has been a sunshine in all the rain.

Tiny Earrings.

A few months ago, "the" question was asked. After a waiting period to ensure it was something she wanted and not just because her friend did, the answer was yes.

She was a brave girl hardly flinching. She was so proud to tell everyone about her earrings. Cashiers, strangers, neighbors, swimmers, Grandma, fellow Jason's Deli customers.

After a few hours she said, "Mom, why did they put holes in my ears?"

Maybe I didn't explain it well enough. I do know now what she wishes for her Birthday.

Perspective

Sometimes to in order to put the little things in life into perspective, you need to look through old pics. SMACK! Time flies.

2013 TN Kids Fishing Day

Pics from The Cove at Concord Park Free Fishing Day 2013.

Many thanks to Knox County Parks & Recreation, 

TWRA, and the Tennessee Valley Sportsman Club a wonderful event! 

Big Boy won a rod and reel! He is hooked on fishing now.

Fishing Day Prep

It was not a surprise to me to find the fishing pole and tackle box in disarray. After moving across Northern Minnesota and then moving 1200 miles to East Tennessee in moving vans, I did not expect to find the tackle box with lures laying straight in their compartments and line untangled. I found melted bobbers, a jungle of lures and melted fish attractant in tubes resembling chap-stick tubes. I expected that.

Tonight, I am trying to make sense of the twisted lines and lures in preparation to take the kids fishing in the morning. The cat is no help. The last thing we need is a hook in the paw. She seems to understand that better than most. I hope that I keep hooks out of the kids tomorrow, too.

Summer simplicity

Through the chaos of the final months of school, I became disconnected. The wires were hot, the wheels were rolling, but in the mass amount of activity and end of school madness I felt alone and exhausted. One day in May, it was over. Summer simplicity began.

We do not have any plans with one exception: swimming lessons. Big Brother came up with list of things he would like to do. Seems somewhat manageable since we have already accomplished half.


Everyone wants to go to Minnesota, but that is the unspeakable summertime subject.  It was asked about, but he knew it just wasn't going to happen and quickly dropped the subject. Our heart is in Minnesota, but the van just won't make it. The cost of repairing the van plus the cost of a cross country trip is out of reach.  I hold my breath everyday hoping it will make it to the pool and grocery store. And when I exhale, I try to remember that the great big and little things in life are often about simplicity. Summer simplicity is a beautiful thing.