Maren's cath is scheduled for Wednesday this week. I am a complete mess. I don't know that I have ever wanted a day to come and never come at the same time so badly. The cath will give us answers and that is the only positive thing I can think of.
The day's gonna go like this:
We'll wake up, pretty much in the middle of the night, to take Maren to the hospital. At first she'll be excited. (She loves any excuse to not sleep.) About half way there she'll make a "W" with her chubby little hand and tap it on her mouth, asking for water, but all we'll be able to offer her is her binky. Then she'll tell us she's hungry, and again, her binky will be her best offer.
Once we get there, we'll wait and then they'll come in to take her away. I'll bite my lip, holding back tears, trying not to look too concerned so as not to upset Maren any more than she already is. She'll slip out of my view and that is when I'll burst into tears.
Randy and I will sit in the waiting room and pull out the fifth season of Scrubs we just bought off of Amazon for this special occasion. Our hearts will stop every time we here "Code Blue" announced over the hospital intercom while we wait for a rush of doctors to fly by us. When they don't come, we'll go back to watching our show.
A cath lab nurse will come out every so often to give us updates on Maren, probably right as we're laughing out loud at JD or Turk's wacky antics. The nurse will give us a curious look, thinking we're weirdos for kicking back, watching our stories while our kid is unconscious and strapped down to a table in the next room, but Randy and I will brush it off. The cath nurse thinking we're freaks is a small price to pay to drown our anxiety in a ridiculous parody of hospital life.
After several episodes of Scrubs, the cath doctor will come out. One of two things will happen next: 1) we’ll be told that Maren's heart function is improved and surgery is a good option for her. That's the "good" news-- open heart surgery. 2) We'll be told that Maren is not a good candidate for surgery. That's the bad news. We take Maren home, start planning our move to Michigan, and begin to wonder what will come first-- improved heart function and surgery or heart failure and transplant.
Sigh. I realize how pathetic this sounds, but I feel better just writing it down.
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