Congestive Heart Failure

I am beginning to figure out that many of the terms used in the medical field are less scary than they sound. And that's a good thing, because when the doctors say "congestive heart failure" in reference to my son, my stomach tightens and my own heart skips a beat.

A week after Jack's heart cath, he was again breathing fast, and was very agitated. Having seen this before, I figured that his lasix were under-dosed. The dose hadn't been increased since they were initially prescribed, and since then, he'd gained about 5 pounds. He also now had two paths for blood from the heart to the lungs: the B-T shunt, inserted during the open heart surgery, and the newly opened pulmonary valve. This was essentially "flooding" the lungs with blood. On a positive note, it could be said that his heart was working too well. So I called the cardiac call line and described his symptoms, and requested a clinic visit that day, which I received.

Unfortunately, Jack's regular cardiologist wasn't in that day, so I had to go over his history with a new physician, but that ended up being a good thing. She was very impressed with my thoroughness and was persuaded that my diagnosis was correct. I love these little pats on the back. It makes me feel that my Type-A management of Jack's condition and care are appropriate. In the end, the doctor increased Jack's lasix dose by 60% (!) and since then, his breathing has been slow and steady! She also did an echo, which showed that Jack was in distress, but not yet in congestive heart failure.

A week later, we followed up with Jack's regular cardiologist who gave him a good report. The new lasix dose was working, and Jack's heart was continuing to relax, and operate under lower pressures. I also, finally, worked up the nerve to ask the question that had been lurking in my mind, and my heart, since the first "bright spot" showed up at the 20-week ultrasound. I hemmed and hawed, and finally, tearfully asked the doctor if Jack was going to live. Her own eyes welled up a bit, and she said that he was strong, and while she couldn't make any guarantees, that I should begin planning for potty training, and the first day of kindergarten, and teaching him how to drive, and taking him to his first semester of college. I was so relieved, and while I know there are no guarantees in life, Lord, how I now know this, I feel so much better that she confirmed my beliefs that Jack is on the road to health.

So, as I have come to expect, Jack will have lots of improvements and setbacks on this long and winding road to health. But so far, the steps forward have been great, and have far out numbered the steps back. And that has been an answer to many, many prayers.

Four Generations: Jack, Me, Jack's Grandaddy Fred (John, Jack was named after him) and Great Grandmother (Maudie, Maiden name Martin, Jack's middle name)