Tuesday 12 June 2012

Hello again, Southampton

We knew we'd have to come back to Southampton General again, ever since Stanley's check-up back in December revealed that he still had a PDA (patent ductus arteriosus), which was not likely to close by itself. 

To put it simply, a PDA is an open duct in the heart, which causes blood to take a different path than what would be ideal. Before birth, all babies have this open duct -which is okay, because they're not breathing yet. Once they're born, it's supposed to close naturally; but in many premature babies, this doesn't happen. Willow, of course, had a procedure to close her PDA when she was about six weeks old and two pounds in weight. That was the most horrific half an hour of our lives. On the consent form which we had to sign, one of the main risks was, quite simply, death. If anything went wrong, it was an all or nothing scenario - there is not enough blood in a 2lb baby to lose any at all. Anyway - it went pretty well, as it turns out, due to the amazing skill of the surgeon. I get stressed in my job as a business analyst (whatever that is - it's more interesting than it sounds, believe me). How these people manage to hold it together to perform tasks like that, I'll never know. However they do it, there must be many cups of tea involved, and a substantial quantity of biscuits. 

For Stanley, the risks weren't anywhere near as great. Rather than cutting into his back and collapsing a lung to get to the right place, he was going to have a catheter in his main artery instead. It's a much safer, more straightforward procedure; however, that really doesn't make it any easier for the parents. The consent form was much nicer - not even a mention of the word 'death' on it - but to see your child being put to sleep and whisked off somewhere for a couple of hours is never a good thing. 

It was a very long two and a half hours. A trip to Costa for our customary hospital coffee helped us on our way; although since we invested in a proper espresso coffee machine at home, nothing can beat the 'Leela-Special-Americano-or-is-it-a-Flat-White' which has got us through the last few months.

The first 90 minutes were spent worrying about the procedure itself, and the next 60 minutes worrying about Stanley waking up. The consultant came to see us after the procedure was done, to tell us it went very well and was pretty standard. But he then mentioned that Stanley's oxygen saturation wasn't too good when they were trying to wake him up, so it would be a while longer before we could see him. 

Eventually, we were taken down to the 'Cath Lab' to see our son in recovery. And there he was, grinning at a couple of young nurses, as he does so well. It was such a relief - we were both thinking the worst, and that we'd have to see him on a ventilator again, and he'd be taken down to PICU. That didn't happen, and it made us so grateful for him to be okay. Every little thing like this still makes us appreciate everything we've got. There are many sick children on that cardiac ward - we are the lucky ones, who only had to go through a relatively standard procedure. 

Stanley was back to his hungry self in no time, and he's staying the night in Southampton with Mummy while I came back home to look after Willow. 

There's been a lot more happening recently in the lives of Willow and Stanley, including another visit to Brainwave. It's too late now though, but I must try and write something about that before the next six weeks disappears.