Matters of the Heart
Yesterday was a long day that consisted of a lot of what the fucks. Tldr: everyone is home and fine, but we don’t really have answers.
I woke up well before dawn with the beginning of a migraine. I took a gazillion ibuprofen to try stop it before it really started, but then, as always, Ruth woke up ready for the day. I couldn’t see straight, much less make a pancake so I asked Roger to take her down while I go lay with Wes.
I gazed at his sweet face, ran my fingers through his beautiful hair, listened to his breathing… Which was louder and more rapid than it should’ve been. I let it go because my migraine was starting to rage and maybe I was just overly sensitive to these sounds, the way I am with light.
A very fast fifteen minutes later he woke up and requested Cheerios in bed- very common for him as one of his chemos can cause hypoglycemia issues.
He inhaled those Cheerios so fast and I hoped maybe he’d go back to sleep so I could try get rid of my growing beast.
Nope. We went downstairs and I mentioned to Roger that he was breathing weird. Roger noticed it too, so I grabbed the pulse/ox. Oxygen 100%, pulse 154. No sweat, no other symptoms, but he was very winded after taking one lap around the dining room table so he plopped down on the sofa. I checked again: pulse 152.
We got his morning meds done and he ate some “untoasted toast” (which he will not call bread because it is sliced and have you ever argued with a 4yo?)
I checked again: 162.
We called oncology. They were concerned but didn’t know what was up and wanted him checked out ASAP so we went to our local pediatrician.
Her pulse/ox didn’t even want to count his heart rate it was so fast. She did a very good job of staying calm, but the high alert was apparent. She did a manual count and he was about 170. I thought she was going to call an ambulance right then and all those familiar feelings of dread and fear and unknowns came rushing back. A friend was across the hall with her child and she kept me the exact right amount of distracted and level-headed while all of this was going on. Wesley was playing on my phone this entire time and was calm and so incredibly not bothered by any of it. The Pediatrician called Wes’ oncologist and after a quick chat they referred us to CHOP cardiology for an EKG, stat.
Roger was driving us and Ruth was sleeping so we dropped them off at home and went to get this EKG. We were welcomed right in, and had him all hooked up within minutes. Wes even helped put his stickers on! A tech working fast like lightning had the bundle of nodes all sorted and hooked up in a snap, and the machine spit out its reading. Normal. Heart rate 103. Results sent to cardiologist. Have a nice day. Wes took his stickers off, we put his shirt back on, and just walked out the front door. In and out in ten minutes.
What?! If felt so wrong to just leave when something was so clearly causing Wes’ heart to work so hard. I sat in the car for a few minutes after calling Roger just hoping they’d call back before I left. Wes finally made me go home so we could make lunch: spaghetti, of course.
When we got home Wes had fallen asleep so I laid him on the sofa and went to the porch to meet with an investigator regarding a horrific accident we witnessed the day we moved to New Hope.
I had to recall in detail things I wish I could forget and it brought up a lot of emotions and reignited the imprinted reel that plays over and over of witnessing the life go out of a person you’re trying to save.
We spoke with the investigator for quite a long time, pausing to tend to Ruth who insisted she join us in 40° weather with no shoes or jacket, or pausing to appreciate the nostalgia of the steam train rolling through our picturesque river town. Ok, but back to the crash – was the dump truck on top of the car? Could you hear their screams? Are you sure they were alive?
When he left I made spaghetti for the kids and pondered whiskey for lunch.
We’re still waiting to hear from cardiology what we already know the EKG will tell them. He’s fine. We think. But if it happens again call us.
And then Ben came back on to tell Tayshia he loved her and I almost threw my hard cider across the room. I miss Ivan. I’m happy for her and Zack, but I’m not convinced. Goodnight. 
