Elijah's SVT and Asthma Diagnosis
If you had told me that our goofy little boy, who was blowing up a balloon and watching it launch across the room, would have a cardiac episode just a few hours later, I wouldn't have believed you. In fact, I would have just told you that was impossible and would never happen. At least it could never happen to us. And then it did.
On Sunday morning Elijah woke up with a little bit of a cough but was otherwise acting totally silly and normal. His breathing seemed a little labored but it was nothing too concerning. I was vigilant and a little concerned but decided to just keep a close eye on him. I gave him Claritin for his allergies and some cough medicine for his cough. He said he was feeling really hot and wanted to take off his shirt and asked me to rub his back. He started to doze off a bit and seemed only slightly uncomfortable.
That was when I noticed some pretty severe retraction in his belly, chest and the base of his throat. He was really struggling to breathe. What I thought was a little bit of trouble breathing turned out to be the very beginnings of an asthma attack, I just had no idea that's what I was seeing. I took some videos of what his body was doing and reached out to a fellow mom with a child with asthma. I woke him up and asked him to turn over so I could get a better view of what his body was doing. While asleep he seemed to be really struggling but while awake he seemed totally fine.
I woke him up and asked him to show me how deeply he can breathe. I wanted to hear his breathing and lungs closely, but he couldn't quite grasp what I was trying to ask him to do. I decided to grab a balloon to try and trick him into exactly what I needed to hear. I thought I heard a little something, but it wasn't out of the ordinary for him to get a bit wheezy with coughs and colds. He had also just visited Grandma and her two cats the day before, so I figured it was just a combo of our suspected cat allergies plus his cough and thought nothing more of it.
I could hear some wheezing as he inhaled, but he was acting so normal except for the breathing and slight exhaustion. I just wrote it off as it being his cough that was bothering him. I checked him for a fever but he was just fine. He was up and moving around as normal. Soon after he started acting a little shaky and slightly off. He went to the bathroom, sat up at the table, and ate some lunch.
As soon as he was done with lunch he snuggled up on the couch again to take a nap. The whole time I had been texting and calling Thomas to keep him updated. I felt like a crazy helicopter mom and felt bad bothering him, but I needed someone to reassure me.
The fellow asthma mom called me very concerned. She told me I needed to take him in. I listened closely to her instructions, but my anxiety was overwhelming. I called Thomas to help me decide on what to do but told him it felt like I was being overly anxious and it was probably nothing. Thomas was on his way home very soon and it was comforting to know I'd get a second opinion.
I watched Elijah very closely, took umpteen videos of him (so many that I was really annoying him and he asked me to stop), and waited for Dad to get home. I was really spooked when he fell into a deeper sleep and his body started twitching and starting to spasm a bit.
My alertness and anxiousness was at an all time high.
(I promise there's a point to this side quest and major tangent story I'm about to tell. Bear with me, but you may also skip ahead. I will not be offended.)
Suddenly there was a loud knocking on my door. A man was standing there pacing a bit. Then he rang the doorbell and I got overwhelmed. I was a mom home alone with her very sick child, an infant, and a 2 year old. I felt very vulnerable. There was no way on Earth I was going to open the door.
Then I saw him walk through our yard and around the house. I got angry and ran to the other side of the house to see if he was making sure nobody was home before he decided to enter. Suddenly there was a huge *BOOM!* outside.
All of this happened within 30 seconds. Me thinking I'm getting robbed or in danger, a man suspiciously walking my property, and a crashing sound that I thought was someone trying to break in.
I ripped open our bedroom blinds to look out and saw that our neighbors were getting their trees trimmed and cut down. The foreman had decided to tell me they were doing all of this landscaping just a few seconds before they decided to cut down a huge tree and let it fall into my yard just a few feet from our roof. I was immediately relieved but still on alert. They definitely had a legitimate reason to be in our yard, I just wished it had been relayed to me before it happened so suddenly.
Soon after, the man rang the doorbell again. Thomas was just a few minutes away at that point so I answered the door.
We have had two very large and very dead trees in our yard for a long time. I called the city to ask about city ordinances and property requirements multiple times but I never heard back. We have guys in trucks with landscaping trailers stopping by the house and knocking on the door and leaving cards and asking to cut them down for us almost daily. We'd been given various quotes and had decided to do it all on our own after hearing the outrageous quotes.
The tree guy's sales tactics worked really well because he offered us a quote for both trees for less than what we'd pay for the dumpster to haul everything away, so we went for it. The men were in our yard when we *spoiler alert* left fot the ER soon after.
My point to that story is that I was severely distracted with all of the tree cutting drama that it took away from my steady vigilance when it came to our sweet, struggling 5 year old baby boy.
During that time, Elijah had become quite pale, somewhat lethargic, but was otherwise communicating to us and making jokes and talking. His throat just sounded a little dry. We checked on his chest with our stethoscope and heard his lungs struggling. His heart rate seemed a little fast but we made a mental note of it and focused on his lungs again.
We called the nurse line and explained the situation. Thomas told her everything and then I talked to her and filled in the gaps of his behavior and what we had done throughout the day. It still didn't seem too concerning, but they told us to go to a local hospital that has a hybrid triage in the ER; emergent and non emergent. Having yet another ER bill was a little stressful in that moment, but I wish I hadn't even thought about it.
I sat at home with the other kids so Thomas could take Elijah into the ER about half a hour away. The nurse told me they would likely be giving him a breathing treatment and an assessment. I think she was wise in not letting on that we were in the danger zone. She just gently urged us to get there ASAP.
I got Elijah dressed and tried to prepare him for doctors to check his heart and lungs and throat. He told me about going to the dentist recently and how they put water and a little sucker machine in his mouth. Other than seemingly exhausted, he was acting mostly like himself. A little tired but sweet and talkative.
I was blissfully unaware and kept and eye on the tree guys, continued getting ready for our dinner plans that night, took care of the kids, and waited for the call to say the breathing treatment worked and they'd be on their way back home soon.
The information I received in that phone call was very different than I was expecting.
The call from Thomas was quite scary. He told me Elijah was fine now, but that I needed to get to the new hospital as soon as possible. He was being transferred via helicopter or ambulance to another local Children's hospital that was more qualified with children's cardiac and pulmonology. Grandpa was on his way to watch all of the other children.
I was in total shock. I said "What?!" multiple times and still couldn't process. Suddenly I was spinning circles and had no idea where to start. I started grabbing bags and diapers and wipes and frozen milk and bottles and jammies and contacts and glasses and snacks and getting all sorts of overwhelmed.
Grandpa arrived and asked where the bottles and milk and where everything was stored. Having to leave the baby was still up in the air. The thought of leaving the baby home with grandpa was a stress I could not handle in the moment. Thomas called back and told me someone at the hospital told him that my baby "could not take a bottle and was strictly breastfed and that I would have to keep him with me". Wink wink. I appreciate that nurse so much.
That was a huge relief. Leaving poor Grandpa with all the children and an infant would have added even more stress to the situation. I was so grateful I was able to keep the baby with me.
Thomas started the call with me with a normal voice but ended up breaking down a bit. He had just witnessed them doing a lot of scary maneuvers with Elijah to get his heart back on track and his breathing issues under control. It was all a little scary and overwhelming to try and explain, so he ended up putting the doctor on the phone so she could explain to me very quickly what the plan was going forward. It's really hard to process everything they're telling you in the moment. And they're always speaking quickly, so you're still trying to understand the first 5 things they told you while trying to listen to the next 5 things they're currently saying.
Basically what happened was:
Thomas and Elijah arrived at the ER, stood in line, sat in a chair, and then got called back. They checked his vitals and were confused about what they were seeing. His heart rate was around 260, he was very pale, had trouble breathing but was otherwise communicating. They started the IV, performed some crazy maneuvers to reset his heart with no luck. This included ice on his forehead, breathing into a tube really hard, flipping his legs over his head, etc. When nothing was working that's when they ultimately decided they needed to give him a heart medication to stop his heart briefly to correct the arrhythmia. His heart had probably been in total distress for a few hours that this point. Kids are very good at acting like nothing is wrong, just slightly inconvenienced.
I am so unbelievably grateful I couldn't be present for all of these life saving measures, as sad as I was to only learn of all of those things after the fact. Thomas is very logical and really good at observing and thinking clearly and asking all the right questions. I am an extremely emotional person and I don't do so well in high stress situations. If I am personally dealing with someone's cut or injury or emergency, I am cool, calm, and collected. If I am just sitting and watching and feeling helpless, I tend to panic. And from what I can imagine, I would have definitely been on the anxious and panicked side. Thomas said he'd never been so scared in his life.
The cold and cough, his exposure to cats in various places, and probably some seasonal allergies from our recent warm weather is what most likely started this whole crazy series of events. We know it had to happen this way, as unfortunate as it may seem.
The doctors are pretty convinced that the adrenaline from the asthma attack is what triggered the heart event. The term for the cardiac event is SVT.
SVT or "supraventricular tachycardia," is a condition where your heart suddenly beats very fast due to an abnormal electrical signal in the upper chambers of the heart, causing a rapid heartbeat that can feel like palpitations or pounding in your chest;
Certain maneuvers, medications, an electrical shock to the heart (cardioversion), and catheter-based procedures (ablation) can help slow the heart.
Elijah seemed to be out of the woods once they got him stable and ready for transport, but the unknown was terrifying. Once you've had a cardiac event, the chances of it happening again are much higher. Add in the Asthma and labored breathing on top of that and you've got yourself one sick little boy.
I came in to see Elijah with a smile on my face and full of jokes when I met Thomas and Elijah at the second ER. I knew Thomas was very alarmed, but I didn't want Elijah to catch onto my state of mind. I told him he looked like an octopus with all his cords coming off of him. And that his oxygen in his nose made him look like Dr. Eggman from Sonic 3. We had just watched the movie for the first time a few days prior, so it was perfect. I even created a side by side comparison to show him how much it looked like he had a crazy mustache! I took pictures so he could see himself and so we could journal this experience. It was hard in the moment, but I wanted to look back and remember this. I made a mental note of all of our little victories, but sometimes the pictures help when the memories become a total blur.
We spent a long time in the second ER at Children's. They told us there would be a hospital room and bed for us shortly, but they kept emphasizing "hospital time". We were originally told it would only be about 2 hours. We spent more than 7 hours in that room.
As we sat there and waited, we witnessed so many traumas passing by. Babies with broken legs and head traumas, screaming children down the hall, and even the sight of security chasing down someone yelling some foul language. We eventually closed our curtains and the nurses closed our doors when something was happening outside of our room.
I would have happily spent the entire day and night and another day in that brightly lit, uncomfortable room in those awful chairs if it meant our boy would be fine. Watching all those other children in very difficult situations was very humbling. Even though our experience was quite upsetting, our little bub wasn't banged up and bruised like some of the traumas we witnessed in that ER that day.
As we waited, Elijah spent time coloring, eating some spaghetti and meatballs, and just hanging out with us. It was a little strange to see him shift around with AED pads on his chest and back. I knew they were only there just in case they needed to quickly shock his heart, but it was still very bizarre. It was also really odd to see all the leads and pads and wires and oxygen and monitors all over his body. There was somewhat of an overlap between each hospital and the different methods they were using to keep him closely monitored.
He eventually got a little tired, so he took a nap. As he slept, though, his oxygen levels and heart rate were dipping into concerning levels. His breathing was still pretty wheezy and labored, which revved up his heart rate, which exhausted him further. They decided to put a high pressure oxygen mask on him to help his O2 levels rise.
Thomas had left to go get us something to eat, so I was there with the nurse helping her get Elijah set up on the full face CPAP machine. Elijah was asleep and therefore pretty combative when it came to us covering his entire face with a mask with warmed oxygen being shoved into his airways. He seemed to be sweaty and overheating, but it was just the moisture from the oxygen. He had been complaining about being hot all day (probably a side effect of his body overworking and trying to breathe properly), so we didn't want to make it worse with the full face mask.
At one point Thomas jumped out of the room because Elijah was pulling the mask off. The nurse told us to just pin his arms down because he had to have it on. We tried to gently explain to him that this mask was necessary and that we couldn't take it off. We didn't fully understand what was going on, but having to tell your child that the "torture" he had to endure wasn't an option was very difficult.
After it was clear that we weren't getting a room at the hospital, they decided to transfer us to the CICU (Cardiac ICU). They made it very clear that he wasn't a cardiac patient, but because he had the SVT, technically he qualified. They were working really hard to get us into a room, but the other traumas had to jump to the front of the line. But that was totally okay with me. We didn't need those beds and rooms nearly as much as the others.
We finally reached the room around midnight and met a whole slew of new nurses and doctors and specialists. Everyone introduced themselves, but having a new wave of people and names and a sea of masked faces was overwhelming.
They worked on setting him up in his new room, performing another ECG to get an update on his condition, taking off his AED and just some of the (now) unnecessary sticky tag heart leads he had all over him. Our night nurse was amazing. The way the rooms are set up is very interesting. You have your own room, but a small section of that room is two windows with a desk. Nurse Nick watched Elijah's monitors all night long. Whenever the alarms would go off he would reassure us that they weren't correct and it was nothing to worry about.
Nick came in around 3 am and pointed out that there was still a slight arrhythmia. He explained that it could be a fluke in the monitor or it could mean Elijah's heart had been doing it all along and we just never knew it. It was a very long night and we didn't get much sleep at all. Thankfully, they had given me a crib for Charlie to sleep in. He had been with us the entire time. There were a lot of comments about siblings under 18 not being allowed to stay with us, but as a nursing child, there was no question in our minds. They told us they would "make an exception" for us, but you can't tell me I can't stay in the hospital with my 5 year old that is having heart problems. And you sure as heck can't tell me I have to find somewhere for my nursing baby to go. I was ready to fight. I know it's "policy" or whatever, but when they acted like they were doing me a favor by letting my 3 month old breastfed stay with me, I had to roll my eyes a bit.
The next morning Elijah had an ultrasound of his heart. Everything ended up looking great with no defects or abnormalities as far as they could tell. But an ultrasound can only tell you so much.
The medical team invited us to stand in the hallway with them while they did their morning rounds. It was so overwhelming to hear them speak alien (medical) talk around us. I could only pick up on the really obvious things like card (cardiology) and other random things I can't even recall. I'm honestly not sure why they invited us because it just confused me even further!
The pulmonologists visited us and explained that they were certain he had asthma. We had always suspected, but hearing it confirmed was honestly a huge relief. They gathered a quick health history from me of his experiences and various reactions, but based on all of his symptoms it was pretty obvious that it was asthma. The next plan of action was setting us up with a couple different inhalers, but we had to be very careful with that plan.
The problem with Albuterol is that it is great for asthma, but it's not so great for hearts. It relaxes the muscles in his airways, but a side effect is the higher heart rate. Thankfully they gave us the option of a different version of Albuterol that wouldn't affect his heart. We were very grateful.
We then met with the cardiologist. There was something about him that I really loved immediately. He was so calm and understanding and gentle and just all around a really nice guy. He explained to us the different options:
1. Watch and wait for it to possibly happen again (this was a big fat HECK NO from me)
2. Heart meds (also a no because of the side effects and the fact we aren't even sure if this is just a one time thing or permanent)
3. Heart surgery
The thought of my child undergoing heart surgery is terrifying. Emotionally numbing. There's no way this is our reality. I couldn't even wrap my brain around it. But when we were presented with all of the options, this was the only answer. The cardiologist was very careful in explaining each option very thoroughly. He said he would personally go with options 1 or 3. Choice #2 was always an option but not one he would recommend within our circumstances.
I started to get emotional as he was explaining everything. I tried to blink away my tears but it was useless. He even had a few tears of his own as we were talking. He just kept telling us how sorry he was that we were there. He was so sincere and careful with how he handled educating us.
Dr. Nash explained that the heart ablation would be a fairly low key procedure. Outpatient surgery, general anesthesia, and a simple recovery. Obviously there are still some risks involved, but he definitely put me at ease as he was explaining this seemingly routine surgery.
I jokingly asked if we could wheel Elijah back there right now and do the surgery ASAP. Obviously I was kidding (mostly) but he told us to give it a few days for the dust to settle and to give us a chance to breathe and talk it over. But that decision still hasn't changed. We are currently opting for the ablation and doing it as soon as possible.
He asked us about family history when it comes to hearts. We have some family that has also had heart surgery (more intense than our ablation). We mentioned they lived in Idaho and that we'd visited Rexberg and BYU Idaho but attended BYU in Provo. The cardiologist mentioned he was from Idaho. It was pretty clear that he was also a member of our church. It made me like him even more! We talked with him casually for a few more minutes. It really did feel like talking to a friend.
After everything was reviewed and Elijah was continuing to recover nicely, we were moved to another room that was a "step down" as far as monitoring goes. It was nice to be downgraded from the ICU to the regular wing of the hospital.
The running joke Thomas and I had the entire time we were at the hospital was our luck with eating. It was only when we finally had a chance to grab a meal that day that they would transfer us to another hospital room. We had to scarf down food and pack up a room all at the same time. Half a sandwich in one room and the other half of it in the new room. Obviously it was just a silly thing and nothing upsetting at all, but it felt like that same pretend rule in the universe that your food only comes out to you at a restaurant as soon as you leave to go to the bathroom.
The final hospital room was just a waiting game. They had to slowly wean Elijah off of oxygen, wean off the asthma meds via his nose cannula, train us on his new inhalers, etc. Everything we needed to do in preparing us for going home with our new diagnosis with an asthmatic child while considering his new heart situation. I don't consider this a heart condition because it was explained to us that it was likely just an outcome of a series of unfortunate events.
Elijah spent those first two solid days basically sleeping. His tiny body and little lungs had been working so hard just to operate normally, therefore he just needed to sleep most of that off. They offered us Tylenol and anything else we thought he may need to make him more comfortable, but he never really complained. Our little guy took everything so well. He let them check his chest and heart and lungs constantly, squeeze cold jelly on his chest for ultrasounds, rub alcohol pads to get the dozens of EKG leads off of him, etc. Even when things were hurting with his IV site on his right arm, he took it in stride. It was so cute to watch him eat his Mac and cheese and ice cream left handed. He did as much as he could and went along with everything going on like it was no big deal.
It was really a huge blessing that he was mostly unaware of everything that was happening. We did our best to prepare him for whatever was coming. Thankfully he's a pretty easy-going kid. We saw so many nurses and doctors and specialists and quite a few of them mentioned how brave he was. Our little dude made a very difficult few days much simpler by simply rolling with the punches and being okay with everything being crappy for awhile.
It was amazing to see our little Elijah finally feeling closer to 100% again. He never lost his fun little silliness, but it was very comforting when the super goofy dude emerged. He also got extremely comfortable ordering us around a bit. Having his dominant arm mostly unavailable with his IV meant he needed more help than usual sometimes. He still held onto that cute independence of wanting to try to do it himself though.
He was given endless apple juice, Capri suns, ice cream, etc. We created games out of the tissue boxes and fidget toys. We watched half a dozen movies and so much TV. They even gave him his own iPad to borrow. He was living the dream because being at home is very different experience.
He got a little bit too comfortable telling us what he wanted. We were so used to just giving him whatever he needed to keep him comfortable, but we made sure he still remembered how to say please and thank you. Somehow he had forgotten how to use those words for a day or so!
Grandma came to visit us on the last day. She came with lots of toys and goodies and slime. Originally I told him he couldn't have the slime because...sLimE, but I eventually relented. He thought it was the best thing ever. Having something other than an empty tissue box to play with was also really nice!
We finally met with the attending pediatrician that would clear Elijah for discharge. We were getting very excited at the thought of leaving soon. We knew it was still 50/50 at this point, but he had slowly weaned off of the oxygen and onto "room air". His oxygen levels had dipped a little bit the previous right, so it was comforting that he had stabilized by daytime.
The pediatrician, Dr. B, that would discharge us, came into the room very casually. A little too casual for my liking. He came in "hot" as the nurse would later describe it. Essentially, we were told the entire time that we would have to treat the asthma in a special way to avoid any more heart events. The pulmonologists and nurses and all the doctors emphasized this multiple times and made sure we understood. Dr. B waved his hand and told us there's no real scientific evidence that we actually needed to use the alternative, Xopenex. He said it was a very small study and it was basically unnecessary and a way more expensive route. When we questioned his opinion going against everything we had been told, he said it was an "inside baseball game and nothing we needed to worry about."
I am positive he could feel my distrust and I'm very sure my face said it all. It seemed like he was directly contradicting what all the professionals and specialists and everyone else had told us about our unique situation when it came to asthma and SVT. I turned away and refused to even look at him. I was no longer going to acknowledge his rude behavior. He was discounting what the other doctors had so carefully explained to us. In my mind, he was no longer our attending pediatrician. Every single experience I had with the dozens of nurses and doctors had been so amazing, so this left a really bad taste in my mouth.
Dramatically, I thought to myself "How dare you? How can you come in like a know-it-all like that?" and tell two highly anxious parents that everything they've been told was not nearly as serious as it was made out to be. For us the cost wasn't an issue or even on our minds in the slightest. We would pay whatever it takes to make sure our child can breathe properly and avoid another SVT. Even if it was the more expensive alternative. Even if there was only the tiniest chance it would prevent another cardiac episode.
Dr. B took a listen to Elijah and noted he was still a bit wheezy, but nothing to be concerned about. He also bent over and so kindly showed that he desperately needed a new belt and some tighter pants. As much as I didn't want to see this man's crack in my face, it lightened the mood a bit and just made me feel a bit justified in my opinion of him. I actually had to turn away and look at Thomas with wide eyes and stifle my laughing because the other view was too much for me. He was quite literally cracking me up!
When Dr. B walked away I pulled a Ross Geller and bumped my fists together. In my mind that was the last time we would talk to that doofus. I was ready to ask for another ped, but unfortunately they were short staffed and he was the only option. He was the only thing standing in our way from being able to be discharged.
Thomas and I both agreed his opinion was not one we would consider. We had listened so carefully to all instructions and this was the first moment of *NOPE* I had while being in the hospital. Bye, Dr B!
My biggest concern for going home was sleeping. When everything first went down, Elijah would act totally normal while awake, but would steadily decline as soon as he fell asleep. And he had been falling asleep very suddenly and in a really alarming way the first morning he started having real symptoms.
The nurse explained that some pediatricians want to see their oxygen levels while they nap and some will sign you off without a sleep trial. Personally, I required the sleep trial. Dr. B didn't seem to require it. And that also really bothered me. He was too flippant and unconcerned for my liking.
Our nurse came back to check on us and I filled her in just a little bit about our experience with Sir Cracks-a-lot. She agreed that he was inappropriate in how he handled the situation. She asked me if I wanted to keep him out of the room and I told her no. It was fine. She asked if I wanted her to talk to him about his behavior, but I didn't want him to know my opinion of him until we were long gone.
I told her about my anxiousness surrounding oxygen levels while sleeping and that I really didn't want to leave before a sleep trial. I told her I would encourage a nap and she supported my decision and left. Nurse Maria was the coolest.
She came back later on and told her she caught him at the door trying to discharge us but relayed my sleep study plan for Elijah before we would be discharged. I thanked her for being my liaison. I'm not sure having another run-in with Dr. B and disagreeing with him would have gone well.
The nurse handed me a patient advocate card and essentially told me I had to call the number and tell them about my experience with Dr. B. I was surprised but she explained that she understood I was very busy but that it was important to share his inappropriate interactions with us. She had no tolerance for his shenanigans and I loved that so much.
The sleep study went really well! Elijah slept for about 2 hours and his levels were more than perfect. The meds had finally kicked in well enough to go home. We had received the inhalers and spacers and all the training and information about treating the asthma.
Dr. B came back in later to tell us everything looked great and we were free to go. He was very professional and kind and it was a great experience. Later, I asked Nurse Maria if she let him in on my feelings about him but she reassured me that she hadn't said anything to him. In my delusion I was hoping he picked up on my reaction to his d-baggery, but I won't hold onto that hope. I just know we won't ever have him on our medical team ever again!
We were finally home free! Everything lined up perfectly to leave right before shift change. I felt guilty that I extended our stay another few hours for my own comfort and anxiety, but I feel it was more than worth it. I needed to see my baby sleeping normally and have that encouragement that he would be just fine.
Elijah was literally jumping all over the hospital room. He was racing back and forth from the door to the window. He hadn't left his bed in over 3 days at that point. He was seeing out the window for the first time and looking outside with awe at how high up we were on the 9th floor. I cried with relief.
I still have umpteen more stories and little tidbits I didn't even get to mention, as unbelievable as that may seem! I'm also still scouring through all of the digital medical records they've given to us. The charting is so carefully detailed. I have picked up on a lot of medical jargon and abbreviations and learned a lot! I may have also obsessed over every EKG and lab result, but we don't necessarily need to talk about that!
All in all we are so grateful for all of the miracles we experienced and the wonderful care we received. We are so blessed to have parental intuition, on call nurses, emergency teams, ambulances, ER nurses, sweet pulmonologists, allergists, gentle cardiologists, and the amazing medical teams behind the scenes reviewing every ultrasound and test and EKG and labs. Our outcome could have looked very different, but we felt every prayer, every thought, and every temple name submission. We appreciate all of the texts and calls and messages and offers of support with kids and rides and meals and everything in between.
Elijah is home and healthy and acting like nothing ever happened. He is so tough. And then we're over here still trying to recover from everything! He's the best little dude and we love him so much.
We still have a long road ahead of us with dozens of appointments, new specialists, 3 hour panels, and then the heart ablation very soon. There are many long drives and visits ahead of us, but having our boy running around like a regular 5 year old boy is a miracle. We are so fortunate to have this outcome. We know we had angels looking over us and the power from the love of our Heavenly Father and Jesus Christ.
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