Annual Euphoria

For the last week, I have been feeling more and more anxious daily. 

I thought I might feel better after we saw the eye doctor who said that it seems the patching is working and his vision is improving. I was so happy that he could read the 20/200 line with his weak eye, last time he couldn't read anything on the chart with that eye. I wasn't even daunted by the fact that now we had to leave the patch on for 6 hours a day instead of 4. It's working. It's worth it.

But July is when we go for Max's annual cardiology check up. And as the appointment gets closer, I become less able to counter the thought that there is a chance we will be told something horrible. Trying to recapture the euphoria I felt when I left the appointment the year before was futile. All I have been able to do is watch him like a hawk, looking for some subtle clue that could help me anticipate what the ultrasound will show this year. We had been told last time that there was a chance the tissue under his pulmonary valve would grow back and if it started to, he may need another open heart surgery at some point. Also, there was this issue of whether he had Tetralogy of Fallot as it seemed to say in the last cardiology note.

We go to Moosehead Lake every year for the fourth of July. While we were there this year, Max and the girls started a new game where they chase each other around.  This game involves a ton of happy screeching and I think someone is a dragon. The kind of thing I usually try to tune out. But one evening, as I was making dinner, something caught my attention.

"I need a break," I heard a little voice say. The words came from Max's mouth. I looked up and he was sitting down. Is this exercise intolerance?

So I became peripherally aware of every chasing game and tried to determine whether Max was requesting these "breaks" on a regular basis. It seemed that he was. But so were the girls, so maybe it was just normal play. 

Then we came home and had a week of unseasonable hot weather for Maine. Of course the kids continued to play the same chasing game. Now Max was asking for breaks AND sweating all the time. Sweating is a sign of heart failure.

So I started watching for all the other signs of heart failure I could possibly think of. His appetite seemed down. He was mostly drinking milk. But it was 95 degrees outside after all. Maybe this is just a coincidence. Stop looking for things. After Monday's appointment, you will know for sure. Guessing right now is only giving you an ulcer. 

So this morning we went to cardiology. I was so nervous, I realized when we got to the appointment happily that Max was wearing shoes. I remembered mentioning them but couldn't remember actually putting them on him. Their office had moved which was kind of wonderful. The old office was right across from Maine Medical Center where he had his open heart surgery and the flood of memories always doubled my heart rate and instigated a migraine. The new office was nowhere near the old one. I didn't even have to see the hospital. We were driving to a new place with no memories. It was wonderful.

Our cheerful Irish cardiologist did the same thing he did in the old office. I didn't even mind when he asked us to give him a moment to finish some calculations because I had to pee. By the time I got back to the exam room, he was smiling and making jokes and he pronounced: "Everything look great." Explaining there was no reason to think he would need an additional surgery any time soon. The next thing we were to prepare for was a heart tracing for 24 hours when he was about five. 

Just to make sure, I mentioned the "I need a break," the sweating and the issue of whether my son actually might have a worse heart lesion and he was just trying to break it to me in stages. 

"Yes, it has been hot. And I think that is a good strategy. I use it sometimes!" he replied cheerfully with a relaxed smile. And he agreed that no, he did not classify Max as having Tetralogy. 

Maybe "I need a break" was just a natural consequence of being a little brother. It certainly was more polite than yelling: "Leave me alone!"

We came home and I rolled up the rugs and started potty training. 

Max is fine. I need to get him ready for school!