…or that time the Cardiologist ruined our day
What a day we had yesterday! The time had come around for your cardiology follow-up appointment in Leeds. I can’t believe it has been three months already since the last one! At that appointment, your doctor told us that they want to perform an angiogram to get a closer look at your heart to understand what is causing the rapid remodelling of your coronary arteries. I bought us three months’ breathing space little Peanut, but it just flew so quick, and here we are again.
Your appointment wasn’t until 15:40pm. I figured we could sit around at home all day agonising about the impending appointment, or we could make a day of it. So Daddy dropped us off near the train station, and we hopped on a train to Leeds at around 10am, not before sharing a cinnamon swirl from the coffee shop on the platform. You were such a good girl on the train. We managed to get a seat with space for the pram (very unusual! We usually have to resort to standing room only, even if we manage to get into the wheelchair carriage because often ignorant, able bodied people sit in those seats). It isn’t a long journey to Leeds, so it felt like we were there in no time. Luckily a nice gentleman helped me to get the pram off the train, and we were on our way!
I thought we would have a little ‘mooch’ around the shops for a bit, then grab some lunch before your appointment. I had arranged to meet with a friend – a fellow Kawamum – and her little boy. You remember Tom – we meet for playdates sometimes. Well he had an appointment at the hospital just after yours, so we thought it would be nice to catch up. We went directly to the Trinity Centre – there is a ladies shop there called Mango that I like very much (despite being told by a young girl on holiday once that she found it a “bit mumsy” – ouch!!). As we were heading towards the lifts, a woman with a clipboard and a gentleman with a video camera approached us. The lady said that they were filming a TV commercial (I think for the Trinity Centre), that they were looking for certain types of people, and I was exactly what they were looking for. She asked if I would be interested in leaving my details, and I said “Go on then!” So she wrote my name, my age and my number on a card and I had to hold it for the cameraman whilst he recorded and took some stills. The shoot is on the 13th September – I said I would have you with me, and they were happy for you to come too. So we just wait now, and see. I really don’t mind which way it goes – it was nice to be stopped and asked, and it was fun saying yes.
We wandered along to Mango where I had a browse through the clothes – you moaned as soon as you saw what kind of shop it was, so I bribed you with a biscuit. You were great while I tried on a few things, and I walked out with a bit of a dent in the bank balance (oops! Those savings are not going to last me much longer on this career break!) From there we headed down to Harvey Nicholls (don’t judge me! It was only because I know they have a MAC counter and I wanted to buy a specific lipstick). I picked up a few things, and joined the Harvey Nicholls Rewards club – don’t think I’ll be earning many points in there, haha! All the while, you were chattering away in your pram, shouting “Hiya!” at everyone who passed by (we need to have a word about stranger danger soon). Outside the sun was shining – that was a turn up for the books, as the forecast had suggested rain all day.
From the shops, we took a walk down to the bar where your cousin works. She’s just graduated from University this year, and is now out in the big wide world. She was pleased to see you – it was very quiet in the bar. We ordered some lunch, and your cousin joined us while we ate.
Shortly after that I got a call from my friend, the Kawamum; she had arrived, so we walked to Millennium Square to meet her. You and Tom had a lovely time watching the waterfall and running around the square chasing the pigeons. I chatted to his mum about the latest with you two, and before I knew it your Daddy was on the phone – he had arrived at the hospital, it was time to go.
When we arrived at the hospital, we were immediately sent for an ECG – that’s normal, don’t worry! We always get that out of the way first. Problem is you hadn’t had a sleep earlier in the day because you refuse to sleep anywhere but in your cot, so you were a bit grouchy by the time we went in. The lady tried to put the stickers on you, but you weren’t having any of it. You were crying, and screaming, and pulling the stickers off. Another lady came into the room who was really surprised by your reaction, as she has done lots of your ECG’s in the past and you have always been such a good girl. We managed to calm you down in my arms, and the lady attached the wires to the stickers (not technical terms, I know!), but no sooner had we tried to lay you down again were you crying and screaming and ripping the wires off. They decided that you were too distraught now to continue; they didn’t want to put you off for life, but also the reading from your heart would not have ben a normal one with you so worked up. I was worried about us missing something, but they reassured me that the echocardiogram would show up anything we needed to see. I hoped you would be more settled for that.
We went back to the waiting room and you were called in to be weighed and measured. As soon as you walked into the room you started crying and screaming again. You have been weighed in there so many times in your little life – it’s just a room with a table, a changing mat and some weighing scales. But for some reason, yesterday it seemed much more sinister to you, and you were just too tired to take it. We did managed to get you weighed and measured though, as you were able to stand up on the big girl scales instead of having to lie down on the table. We went back out to the waiting room where we were told that the cardiologist was running a bit late, so you played for a while until we were called. A baby was crying in the corner, and you looked ever so concerned and kept saying “Ahhh”. And in the next breath you were pulling the steering wheel off the push along car and driving it into the wall. You are a monkey!
Your doctor finally called us in, and we went into her room. We updated her with your current aspirin dosage and told her that you have been displaying some unusual behaviour. Specifically, you have started randomly lying down on the floor after some activity and just staying there staring for a while before we give you a nudge and you get up. That might not sound particularly alarming, but the cardiologist had told us to look out for signs of angina, and when we asked her what they would be, this was the only symptom she could describe for a child as young as you who is not able to verbalise any pain they might be feeling. We then went on to do the echo. Because of your reaction to the ECG I had sent Daddy down to the shop to get something that might bribe you to lie still and let the consultant do her work. He returned with chocolate buttons, which we slipped into your mouth one by one until she was finished! You need to know that your brother and sister didn’t get chocolate until they were at least 5 years old, so I apologise in advance for any resentment that might build up over the coming years!
The Cardiologist seemed pretty pleased with what she could see on the echo. I noticed that the smallest measurement of your coronary arteries was now 1.8mm. The doctor said that it was about the same as last time. I think they have actually shrunk a little further than before, but we are talking in fractions of mm so I guess it’s neither here nor there. Once she had finished, there was a pause. And then she looked at me and said “I want to do the angiogram.” Just like that. I don’t know what I was expecting really – she had made her point clear at the last appointment, so why did I expect it to change? Hope, I guess. I told her that I have recently met with a world leading KD specialist from the US and attended a KD Symposium in London with esteemed professionals from the Kawasaki world. I mentioned that a number of professionals had advised me that a cardiac catheter angiogram was not the most suitable procedure as it is invasive, and that there are other procedures that would be more appropriate for Freya, namely a CT angiogram. Our doctor disagrees. She feels that the resolution from a CT angiogram is not sufficient to show us what she is looking for – evidence of thrombus (layering of clotted blood inside the arteries) or stenosis (build up of scar tissue). She dismissed some of the advice I have been given by the KD specialists because “they are not Cardiologists”, which is fair enough if not a little short-sighted.
After a few questions, I asked “Do we have a choice?” And her reply came as a shock. She said that her advice is to perform a cardiac catheter angiogram, that it is the standard protocol for the hospital in relation to the aftercare of KD children, and that if I do not trust her advice then she would have real difficulty in continuing to be responsible for Freya’s care, giving her no option but to refer us to another hospital. Wow! My way or the highway! And that’s where we are today – sent away with a decision to make. And it feels like Hobson’s Choice. Either we go ahead with the advice we have been given, against the advice of professionals who have seen more cases of this disease than our doctor will ever see, or start all over again with an unknown quantity – better the devil you know? Or is the grass greener? I have no idea what we should do. All I know is that I have seen this in my nightmares. I have watched you go to sleep, left you in the hands of a surgeon, and waited. And I have heard the words, “We are very sorry Mrs McBride, but the catheter caused a spasm in the coronary arteries, triggering a heart attack, and we sadly lost your daughter.”
I know in the scheme of things, this procedure is pretty insignificant to a cardiac unit. The little babies in the waiting room with that telltale scar down the centre of their chests is enough to give you some perspective over that. But you are my baby, and I am scared. Depending on how the procedure goes, you will be under general anaesthesia for at least an hour. They will insert a thin tube (catheter) into your groin (most likely entry point, although this can differ) and feed it up into your heart to release contrast dye which will help them to see the insides of your coronary arteries. That’s a pretty big deal for me and it doesn’t come without risks.
As I write this, I feel sick in my stomach, and my eyes are pooling with tears. I cannot believe that we are going to have to hand you over to a surgeon again, watch you go to sleep again, and put our trust in strangers to get this right again. Your last experience was deemed as necessary without alternative (you had a bone marrow aspiration to test your cells for Leukaemia before your diagnosis with Kawasaki Disease). Although it was traumatic for us, we felt confident that it was necessary. I don’t know why, but I just can’t seem to shake this gut feeling that this procedure is wrong. Maybe I am just scared. Who wouldn’t be.
All I can hope is that you are reading this, and laughing at how silly I was to be so worried. “Jeez,mum! I’ve had twenty of these things now! I can’t believe you were so stressed that first time around!”
We need to get a closer look to see what’s going on in there sweetpea. I just wish there was another way.
You can also follow Freya’s Story on Facebook and Twitter:
http://www.facebook.com/freyasstory and @freya_story