Twins on versed = Hilarious!

A week ago, tomorrow, the twins had double tonsillectomies. They've done most everything together since conception, why not surgery, too? They're healing well and have been able to manage the pain. It's still hard to swallow and they talk funny, but they might just head back to school sometime this week. We'll see.

Brenden Pre-Op

"Look at my cool booties!"

"Be sure to tie a double knot!"

Brenden went into surgery first, so he was the first to come out of the drugs. They gave both boys versed and ended up having to give Brenden Narcan, after they put him under, to reverse the sedation. He was having difficulty breathing and keeping his heart rate up with so much sedation. The nurse called him a "light weight". They ended up giving Braden a smaller dose of versed due to Brenden's reaction.

After surgery...still loopy.

Braden was so nervous I didn't get any before photos of him. He has a pretty severe case of needlephobia and after they took Brenden away, we spent a long time trying to explain everything. He ended up getting the IV before going in to surgery and was very proud of himself that he did everything, "Just like Brenden." I was proud of him, too.

After surgery, they wheeled Braden into the recovery area where Brenden already was and placed their beds side by side. Braden woke up enough to tap Brenden and said, "Brenden, I need to tell you something. I need to tell you something. Brenden....I love you." He reached his hand through the side bars and they held hands. Awww. Brenden, coming out of it, held his hand and didn't complain. I can only imagine how connected these two are. I'll have to remember this moment the next time they are trying to kill each other.

Brenden had us cracking up in pre-op. I was laughing so hard I actually pee'd my pants. A teeny-tiny bit. Having five children doesn't help ones bladder control and deep gut laughing doesn't help either. Seriously, I was rolling. Both Rob and I were. The nurses were even laughing (a little), but I guess they see people like this all the time. We, luckily, haven't witnessed our teenage boys "high" and I hope we never do. The doctors came in and told us we were having too much fun. Hehehe. I wish I would have recorded everything that day. It would have made great YouTube fodder. Don't take my word on it though, you decide.

I don't like to disappoint my readers, and in keeping with my amazing ability to embarass my children, I present to you.....

Brenden (after surgery) still recovering from versed.

The Story of Our Heart Baby

Braden (L) & Brenden (R)

Brenden Ashton was born on November 24, 1993 at 12:10 AM weighing in at 5 lbs and 17" long. His identical twin brother, Braden Aloysius, was born at 12:11 AM and weighed in at 4 lbs 11 oz and 18" long. Both of these amazing, and feisty, miracles gestated skin to skin as Monoamniotic/Monochorionic, or MOMO, twins.

For 35 weeks they created intriquite knots in each others umbilical cords (I'll find the photo and post it one day), had amazing wrestling matches, sucked on each others hands (and feet!) and gave each other black eyes as they fought for wiggle room.

Brenden loved to kick Braden up into my ribs and, wouldn't you know it, just as Brenden tired of playing trampoline on my bladder, Braden would issue a swift knee to the chin and the wrestling match would start once again.

Little did we know that they weren't exactly "identical". Brenden was hiding a little secret that threatened his life. In these photo's you would never know that he was sick and we didn't know how sick he really was.

After eleven and a half years of not knowing what was wrong with our son, wondering if it was actually me (his mom) who was sick, second guessing my instincts and being told "He has asthma" over and over again, our son was diagnosed with a rare congenital heart defect known as a Double Aortic Arch or Vascular Ring.

Brenden, our oldest son (by one minute), seemed to have every test, illness, medication and diagnosis known. He received two sweat tests because the pediatrician was sure he had Cystic Fibrosis. From just a few weeks on, our little guy would wheeze, choke on food, throw up, cough and have stridor. Nothing helped him. Without going into too much detail, thus making this blog way too long, here is a list of things we were told from birth to diagnosis:

We were told Brenden had/Brenden was given:

*Milk Allergy (infancy) and was put on Soy formula and then Nutrimagen.

*Given a scope and told he had a narrow esophogus and he would grow out of it by 1 year.

*Pre-diagnosed with Asthma, but told he was too young to really give a diagnosis.

*Given gobs of medications for asthma.

*Allergy testing

*Hospitialized with pneumonia at age 2.

*ER and InstaCare visits for steroids and nebulizer treatments.

*Two sweat tests to rule out Cystic Fibrosis.

*Enough x-rays to light up California and even one where his twin brother helped out.

*A distraught mother who knew something was wrong, but nobody listened to her.

*Coughing fits that would last hours and usually ended in vomiting.

*Choking on small pieces of food, but we thought he wasn't chewing properly. After repeating this meal after meal we were upset and would get upset with Brenden for not chewing his food. I still feel horrible for being angry/scared/frustrated with him at the dinner table. Poor guy!

*Adnoidectomy

*ENT visits

*Strangers who thought he was "really sick and should be at home!" Uh, thanks.

*Teachers who called numerous times a year in regards to Brenden's coughing fits.

*Many missed weeks of school.

*Had this virus and that virus.

*Bronchitis

*Chronic Bronchitis

*Sinusitis

*Chronic Sinusitis

*Asthma

*Seasonal Asthma

*Lung sensitivity to cold air

*"He probably makes too much mucous." -PCMC ER Dr. when asked "If you can't find anything wrong with him, then why has he sounded this way since birth?".

That last one (in bold) was actually my final straw. From age 8-11, I had resigned myself to the fact that Brenden suffered from asthma, even though I really didn't feel right about it. Nobody listened to me and everyone shrugged off his symptoms. I figured I was the crazy one. Around 11 years of age, Brenden began suffering from unexplained migraines and I rushed him to the children's hospital to be seen. They made him put a mask on because he sounded so sick. After a CT scan of his sinuses and an x-ray of his lungs, we were told nothing was wrong. I then went home, bypassed our now ex-pediatrician and called what I thought was the PCMC neurology department and scheduled an appointment. Of course it was three months out, but I was determined to find some answers.

A couple months later I received a packet in the mail from PCMC with papers to fill out for his upcoming appointment. I was a bit dissapointed when the paperwork was for the Pulmonology department, but figured it was better to be seen by someone now than to cancel and have to wait more.

On July 27, 2005 Brenden and I went up to the hospital for his appointment. I spoke with the nurse about his history, answered tons of questions, told her I just wanted some answers. Brenden was given PFT testing and a few other things. When we finally met Dr. U we answered his questions and I told him about Brenden. He told me that Brenden had "Seasonal Asthma" and tears began to flow down my cheeks as I struggled not to sob at his feet. Dr. U asked me what he could do to make me feel better about this appointment. I looked at him and pleaded with him to just "Start over. Do all the tests that you would do if Brenden had never seen anyone about the symptoms I described."

You see, on July 27, Brenden was not suffering from a cold and he was not sick (amazingly!) that day. The stridor was not heard and he was not wheezing. A great day for him to be stuck in the hospital, eh? The only test that puzzled Dr. U was the Pulmonary Function Testing (PFT). Brenden had pretty low levels to begin with, but when given puffs of Albuterol (the drug he had been on since he was a toddler) his levels would become worse. Dr. U said that's unusual as Albuterol opens up the airways, but on Brenden it was closing them and making it worse.

Dr. U wrote Brenden three prescriptions. One was for blood work, one for a CT scan of his lungs and one for a sleep study. The sleep study would need to be scheduled for a later date, but the other two were to be done immediately. I was shocked, to say the least. I was told to bring Brenden back in the fall (when he got his first cold). We said goodbye and I thanked him for the tests and went on our way. Looking at those two prescriptions I remember asking myself, "Which one should we do first?"

We found our way to radiology, signed in and waited. Brenden and I were taken to a large room and ushered past a small control room towards the big CT machine. I sat in a chair against the wall and was draped with a heavy vest. Brenden was such a trooper and hopped up on the table. They explained some things to us, administered the contrast into his veins and then we hear this loud whirring sound. My eyes are fixed on my son and this thing engulfing his tiny body and whirling around his body. I wanted them to find something and kept repeating softly, "Please find something. Please find something."

Photos taken during his first post-op visit.

I had to get a photo of the machine that was not blind to a mother's plea.

Just three minutes later the whirring slowed down and stopped. I was puzzled because it was so short. I looked at my son trying so hard to stay still even though the contrast was coarsing through his body and he felt like he was burning, then I glanced into the control room to witness a bunch of people in white coats huddled over a monitor and Dr. U was right there with them. My first thought was, "Why is Dr. U there? We said goodbye.". I looked at Brenden, then the nurse and suddenly (in my peripheral vision) I saw Dr. U walking towards me. I remained seated, too numb to move or speak at what was being said. My mind was racing, trying to remember where the aorta was from and as Dr. U went on, I felt like I was having an out of body experience. I was hearing what he was saying and I could see him, but my mind was still on the aorta. Within seconds I remembered it was the heart. The heart? What? We're not here for his heart. There must be some mistake. They were viewing his lungs, not his heart. These are the things that went through my mind. At some point, my mind and body were once again in sync and I was asking questions instead of nodding my head.

On August 22, 2005, our oldest son, Brenden, was admitted to Primary Children's Medical Center for an operation that would save his life. The surgeon Dr. K, said that when he made the cut to release the esophogus and trachea, they popped out like a tightly wound spring. They were finally free. He also noted that Brenden didn't have a dominate side where one would be larger than the other. Brenden had two narrow sides, which made his case a bit more complicated. He had tracheomalacia (as well as other issues) and they were not sure if he would get better after 11.5 years of constriction. *Edited to add* Brenden also has a PFO that they did not feel comfortable fixing at the same time they operated on the DAA. He still has a noticeable heart murmur as well. A neurologist at PCMC told us last year that PFO's do not cause migraines, though everything I get my hands on says the opposite. We aren't sure what the next step will be as far as the PFO goes.

Brenden was in the PICU for a little over 24 hours until he was moved to the cardiac floor. He and I stayed there for 5 days.

He rested....

And he played....

But, mostly, he rested.

When Brenden was discharged, we set up a temporary bedroom for him right in our living room. He stayed there for a couple weeks. After the first week it was hard keeping him down. He grew stronger each day and went back to playing ice hockey after October 28th.

Despite the fact that he still has tracheomalacia, coughing fits when he's sick or running around, susceptible to getting colds/flu, incision site pain and occasionally has trouble swallowing, he says it's no where near as bad as how he felt before.

Thank You Jesus for sending us to Dr. U. Thank You for everyone who prayed for our son, for those who helped us in every way possible. You know who you are...Thank You!

And a special note to Brenden......

Brenden,

Happy 4 years post-surgery!!! I want you to know that I worried about you from day one. I knew something was wrong and it made mommy so angry when people didn't believe me. I felt like a failure not being able to help you when you were struggling to breathe and to eat. You were so brave and coped with the illnesses, coughing and breathing well . Your strength and courage helped mom, dad, gamma and everyone who loves you get through that time. You amaze me and I just wanted you to know how proud I am of you. You have become such an amazing young man and I pray that you'll continue to deepen your relationship with Christ and develop God-centered friendships as you traverse these next few years. I hope you know how much you (and all your siblings) mean to your dad and I. We are not perfect parents and even though we allow our frustrations and anger to get the best of us, nag you to clean your room (bathrooms, kitchen, mow the lawn, etc., etc.,) I hope you know that we LOVE you so very much.

All my love,

Mom

trying times

First let me say that I haven't forgotten about the Mama Pad Give-Away.  I've just been inundated with so many things I can't keep them straight.  I will post the winner on Friday morning, so get your entries in before then.  

We are going through a bit of a storm, which is why I have not posted in a week.  Has it been longer?  It's always one thing after the other and lately, the things aren't so little.  I'll post more in detail when I have some time. Maybe tomorrow.  Maybe next week.  I really can't say.

I will ask that you pray for my oldest son, Brenden (15).  He was assaulted at school on Monday and is suffering from tracheal edema, acute laryngitis and T4-T10 Costal Contusions from being severely choked, punched and kneed in the ribs.  He might have been knocked out momentarily, too.  He is on mega doses of steroids and cortisone to reduce inflammation.  He already has tracheomalacia and this is just making it worse.  The swelling is also bringing back headaches/migraines and he's having coughing fits because of the swelling to his trachea.  

This child can make me so angry.  He's alot like me and we clash.  I love him to bits though and it breaks my heart to see him in pain.  I can't imagine the humiliation he felt on Monday afternoon and now that his adrenaline is gone, he's feeling a whole lot more than humiliation. His youth Pastor called him today and is taking him out to lunch on Thursday.  Brenden seemed really upbeat when he got off the phone with him this afternoon.  

I'm exhausted and ready to call it a night.  It's been a hard day for us all.  

Boy's Day

What does a mother do when it's finally sunny outside and she really feels guilty that her children did not get school photographs this year?  

She tortures them by making them pose and squint into the sun.   Actually, they were quite cooperative. It was a good memory (for me).  We laughed and had fun taking pictures, so I'm sure I didn't scar them for life.  At least on this issue.  

Chloe was hanging out with Gamma, so I stole an opportunity to capture my four boys with my sub-par camera.  It doesn't have the range of distance/aperature/ISO, etc that I need want.  I really shouldn't have taken that digital camera class.  It's made me desire a good DSLR like you wouldn't believe.  

One of these days I will purchase a good camera and I promise I won't just stuff it in the closet.  I pinky swear. I might even bug my photographer friends to take me out for a typical 'you-can't-just-talk-to-Lorri-you-have-to show-her' lesson. 

I don't have any Photoshop software (my trial ran out), not that I'd know how to use it anyway, but these are the real deal.  If anyone has any idea what I could have done to improve these I would appreciate hearing feedback... (besides composition...that's something that I know I need to work on. I tend to center all my subjects.  Bad photographer! Bad!!)

My Four Sons!!

Casey will be 13 in a little over a month.  He wants a leopard gecko for his birthday.  Oy!  I'm not sure I'm ready for liberated crickets chirping as they cricket-hop their way around my house to freedom.  I guess it could be a good homeschool project.  What is the survival rate for gecko's?  I wonder if Lilo, our cat,  would enjoy playing with it?

Caleb is 7 and is in the 1st grade.  He loves school and is extremely smart!  He's a great reader, excels at spelling and math and has the biggest imagination ever.  He loves LEGO's and remembers every detail about anything and everything.  You have to watch what you say around this big guy. 

 

Caleb recently lost his 2nd top tooth.  After he lost the first one, I told him that since he was my last one to lose their two top teeth he had better get the other one out.  I just couldn't be happy if I didn't get to have a 1st grader with TWO missing teeth at the same time.  Seems most of my kids have lost one, the other one grew in half way and then the second one fell out.  This little boy, wanting to make his (joking!!) mommy happy, wiggled and wiggled it until it fell out.  PRECIOUS!!!

Here he is...Braden..the x-ray baby.  He's not so much a baby anymore.  At 15, Braden is doing very well in Kung Fu.  He works hard at school, but struggles with finding a balance between school and fun.  I think all teenagers go through that.  We set limits and stick to it...so we aren't the most liked parents on the face of the earth at the moment.  That's okay...we're not trying to be their friends.  We are raising men.  

This 15 year old boy is, Brenden.  He is my first born (by only a minute. Braden will not let you forget that!) He has struggled with his health for many years and we finally found a diagnosis when he was 11.5 years old.  Double Aortic Arch.  He had surgery on August 22, 2005 to correct this congenital birth defect and is doing very well.  He still seems to have a mild form of tracheomalacia, but has never had to have anything done about it.  Hopefully it will continue to get stronger and he'll suffer no adverse effects from the severely delayed diagnosis.  He also stuggles with finding a balance between education and social life. Again...God willing.... We are raising men, not friends.

These are my guys!  I love them so very much. 

Oops! For Renee....

**Edited 1/23/09 @ 10:44 AM to add photographs**

I'm a compassionate person.  I want other people to know they are not alone.  I want them to know that we all make mistakes and so I tend to spill my horrific stories just to make them feel better.  Don't you think that's extremely compassionate?   So.... when reading some of my favorite blogs today, I couldn't help but let Renee know that I've done the same thing.  Err...but on a very different level!!!  

It's an "Oops!" day.  In honor of Renee...  (giggle)

My first two beautiful babies came in one package.  I suffered through 8 months of pregnancy with them, and I mean suffered.  From 5 weeks on I was puking at the sight of food.  We found out I was having twins when I was 6 weeks along (and ohhhh so sick!!).  It was at my first ER visit where they found I was carrying monoamniotic-monochorionic twins.  A week later,  I had to have a home health nurse take care of me because I couldn't keep anything down.  The only good moments, for my then 18 year old body, was between the 3rd and 4th month when I felt pretty good and could feel them rolling and softly kicking. 

Around my fourth month of pregnancy, I started contracting heavily and was given the vile Trebutaline and ordered to do  Tokos monitoring from home.  I contracted daily and was constantly told to go into the hospital for shots of morphine and trebutaline.  Not fun!

At thirty-five weeks, they arrived via c-section weighing in at 5 lbs & 14 lbs 11 oz.  Identical boys with identical 2.5 week NICU stays.  

Moving on to about 7 months old.....

Brenden was a sick little boy.  Constantly having breathing issues, coughing, heavy mucous and seemed to catch every horrible cold/pneumonia/bronchitis there was.  We spent a lot of time at the doctor's offices trying to find out what was wrong with the poor little guy.  Despite his constant coughing, retraction and stridor, he was a very happy baby.  

On a certain trip to Sunrise Hospital in Las Vegas (we lived there at the time), Brenden was having a chest x-ray ordered by his pediatrician.  Rob and I were in the waiting area watching Brenden & Braden crawl on the floor and wrestle with each other.  You could hear Brenden breathing with all the gunk in his chest, so telling my very identical boys apart wasn't difficult.  

The radiologist comes out and calls for Brenden.  I pick him up and follow her into the x-ray room.  She proceeds to strap my baby into this archaic device:

 This is not my baby.  

My son is not having any of this.  He screams that blood curdling scream where everyone comes running and I couldn't do anything about it.  This wasn't the usual response and it wasn't the first time he had been in one of these devices.  I had to just stand there and watch and try very hard to comfort him with my voice.  He shot me glares mid-scream and my own feelings of claustrophobia were starting to make me have an anxiety attack.  The tech lady quickly takes an x-ray then moves the tube into a different position and takes another x-ray.  I think she even took one more.  While he waited (screaming!!) in this contraption, I hear a knock on the door.  I look at the tech and then hear another knock and my husbands voice calling, "Lorri?"  I was agitated because my baby was screaming and sort of yelled spoke firmly at him through the door, "What? He's not finished!"  The tech was walking to the door just as I hear him say, "Um...honey....you have the wrong baby."  We both stop dead and look at each other. I look over at Braden who is now hoarse and sobbing and said, "Oh my god!  That's not Brenden!"  The poor tech was in shock and so I opened the door to see my husband standing there with Brenden who is happily kicking his feet and has this huge smile on his face...along with the raspy breathing you can hear a mile away.  The tech goes over and removes Braden who will not even look at me, but holds his hands out and cries "da da da da da"  (can you blame him?).  We switch babies and  proceed with the original plan.  

Brenden was placed in the contraption and smiled.  He didn't mind his hands being stuck above his head and even laughed. He was too busy moving his eyes from side to side, checking everything out, to care about being immobilized.   To him, this was normal stuff.  The tech went about her job as I stood there wondering what kind of mother does that?  Not one bit of complaint came from Brenden.  Not one!  It was as if Braden was trying to tell me, "I'm not Brenden! I'm not him! This sucks! My mommy is a ninny!"

Braden has suffered no lasting effects from the trauma he experienced that day.  However, at 15 years old...I'm wondering if he hasn't been trying to pay me back for say, the past 3 years.