Another day in Boston, another successful heart procedure in the books for Quinn. Right now he is a wore out little champ. The angioplasty went well. There are now two metal alloy stints holding his pulmonary arteries wide open. Bad news is that these will need to be adjusted in size as he grows bigger using the same procedure. Exactly when or how many times it will need to happen is unpredictable at this point. Including the synthetic patch, there are now three foreign objects in and around Quinn's heart... On a side note, the doctors say that Quinn can still grow and play full contact sports with no restrictions, if he so chooses. Not implying anything but no restrictions is a good thing I say.
Quinn cries with his eyes wide open these days. I took the duty of holding him down for the various blood work, IV attempts (numerous as always), and x-rays. It was all to familiar watching him while he cried and looked up at me. What can you say to him? I can downplay the drama for a while. I know they're not sawing any limbs here, but after hours of hearing the cries and seeing him battle the fatigue with all he's worth, I start to feel as if they are. There's a balance between letting the staff do what is necessary, and scooping up your kid when you know he's had enough and postponing the inevitable. But after seeing him vomit and soil himself enough, you second guess whether your doing a good enough job as a parent.
Only a week ago he developed a habit of cramming his left fist into his mouth. After the first successful IV went into his left hand, the nurses taped it up and wrapped it in a diaper to prevent it from coming loose. Quinn had a club hand throughout the day, and wound up getting a mouth full of diaper a few times.
For the angioplasty, Quinn was unconscious with a respirator tube down his airway. Steph and I signed the consent forms acknowledging all the risks, including sudden death, and off he went to get his heart worked on. The night before, we noticed Quinn's heart still beats irregularly on occasion, skipping beats. The fear was that he would go into heart block while these tubes were inflating in his arteries. Well, he maintained his vitals so well before, during, and after the procedure that he was taken off the respirator as soon as the doctors were finished. Not to say he didn't spent the next several hours feeling pretty under the weather.
Unfortunately for Quinn, following the procedure he had to undergo all the same tests he had endured the day before. Except this time, he was exhausted and fell hard asleep every break he could get. I can't quite imagine being woken up by your dad who is pinning you down on some examining table for what is yet to be another painful episode. So far he has forgiven everything and still has a smile for everyone. I'll always appreciate this hospital and it's staff, but being here always means the good times are on hold. Tomorrow, it's a few more tests in the morning, and we'll be headed home again with a happy and healthy son.