Just a Staple

The appointment with Kiernan's cardiologist on Thursday went very well. His EKG was normal, his oxygen saturation was a good high number, and the doctor was very pleased with all that he heard in listening to Kiernan's heart and lungs. He was also happy with how active the little guy is, as Kiernan was standing up on the examination table when the doctor came in the room, flapping his arms and dancing in his inimitable way (Kiernan...not the doctor).

We really lucked out with this doctor, Kiernan's pediatric cardiologist, who, for the sake of brevity, I'll just refer to as "Dr. Ferry" as I proceed. He really is one of the best doctors I've ever been around. He is smart and confident without ever seeming condescending, giving us as parents due attention while making a point of establishing a rapport with our son (something our actual pediatrician doesn't seem able, or willing, to do). He never gives us the feeling that we are wasting his time, no matter how many questions we ask (regardless of how inane they are). And the best thing is that Kiernan really likes the guy. This is important because Dr. Ferry will be a part of his life for many years to come; even though his heart is repaired, Kiernan will still need regular checkups to determine that all remains well.

After each examination, Dr. Ferry asks us to meet with him in his office to discuss Kiernan's condition. This time he said how great Kiernan looked then threw the x-rays up on a little lightboard behind his desk. He pointed out Kiernan's heart, saying that it looked good, and that his lungs looked clear. When I asked about the weird random image in the side view x-ray, he put that x-ray up there immediatly and allayed my fears (it was a staple that was probably used to clamp off a bleeder, which is normal).

Another cool thing that happened was that the doctor told us we could stop the medications we've been giving Kiernan twice a day. Kiernan has generally been excellent about taking meds. He really is quite remarkable about it, opening his mouth when we have to give him a dropper of his daily vitamin, or Tylenol, or whatever. When the nurse who was prepping him for his surgery--before he was taken away from us--gave him an anti-anxiety medication he opened right up for it as polite as could be. "I wish my whole day would go like this," she said, delighted.

After the surgery, though, we were having to do it so much that he understandably started to balk. He was taking two meds each morning--one to make his heart stronger called Digoxyn, and a powerful diuretic called Lasix to ensure that no fluid was collecting in his lungs--as well as his daily multivitamin and whatever Tylenol he might need to get through the day and night. Poor guy was just sick of having to deal with it. So it's great that the doctor had us cut both out because he's looking so good. At first Dr. Ferry just told us to cut the heart medicine, but by the end of the appointment he just decided to cut the Lasix too. "I don't want him on these strong medications any longer than he has to be." Even though we were relieved, cutting out both medications like that did make Kiernan's mom and me a little nervous. We asked what we should be on the lookout for, warning-sign wise. Dr. Ferry rattled off a list of symptoms that would be of concern, capping off the list by saying, in his almost nonchalant way, "But none of that will happen. He's fine." He says stuff like that in such a way that it immediately puts us at ease. If I ever have another kid I'm considering naming him--or her--Dr. Ferry.

Not that we're considering having another kid, though. Gammy. Nana. I'm looking at you. Step off of the chair and sit back down, both of you. Seriously. Sheesh.

Anyway, we'll be seeing Dr. Ferry in another month or so, but just to be safe he's having us call him in two weeks to let him know how Kiernan is doing. As I write this on Saturday he is doing very well, though, and as a bonus from cutting out the meds his appetite seems to be returning. Which is great to see.

Too bad there's no medication to keep him from wanting to learn to walk for another few weeks.