I love my trach

It has been 9 days.

9 days since we sat down in that little, bitty room by the OR's to talk about Sam's airway. 9 days since we were reminded of his very difficult airway and the fact it will always be complicated. 9 days since we were told there are not a lot of people that can work on Sam-just a few at the largest Children's hospital in our metroplex. 9 days since we decided to leave the trach in...even if only for emergencies.

I love our physician and I love our trach.

It started a normal morning. Boys up between 7-7:30 playing away. Breakfast of sausage, fruit, and waffles served around 8:30. Coffee a little late this morning and poured around 9am that corresponds to a TV show started at 9. Paul was reading through some material about the boys' school starting next week and I started work on a grocery list. Boys took their place on the couch with toys in hand.

A few days ago we had gotten down a marble maze that had been given to us (maybe last Christmas?). Anyways, all of sudden Paul jumps (maybe 9:10?) to alert me Sam has swallowed the marble. Lucky for us, LUCKY FOR US, we have a trach so we can immediately take off his cap to give him an open airway. He gasps, but seems okay. We think he has swallowed it so I grab the phone to see if we need to let is pass or go in and have it checked out. As I am waiting on the phone Paul alerts me he can barely see the marble-way past palate repair, at the top of his esophagus. That is when we start to move. We don't know whether it can do down, and would love it to come up but know we are going to need help. We arrive at Cook's around 9:30 (engaging in numerous traffic violations along the way).

He sounds clear, no labored breathing so we had remained pretty calm up to this point but as we are getting closer to Cook's I am trying to decipher in my head what to say to get this handled as quickly as possible without everyone freaking out. I know I have to say it's a complete airway obstruction, which is top of the list as far as emergencies are concerned, but I have been in that packed room, in the emergency situation, and while it may be impressive-it is no fun when it is your child. In fact, the last time we were in the room with an airway obstruction it resulted in an emergency tracheostomy. So we know the severity...and we know the reaction.

So we run in, abandon the car in the ER turn around (because they actually do have people that will take care of it-just leave your keys in the car) and have to relay the words "complete airway obstruction". That's when I start to lose it because I remember the course of events that follows. I scribble here and there-nurse confirms that blue ball in the back of the throat and off we go. What has probably now been 5 minutes maybe, we are in a room (with about 10 others), relaying history, listing meds, requesting specialities and specialists, yelling for child life because Jack is with us, and the ER physician reassures his breathing is normal, reassures to all of the other people in the room and we quickly get to a place where everyone understands the situation which immediately calms me down because I see the "freaking out" in all of their faces and it is not helping me stay calm.

So there we are, with normal breathing and this big, blue marble stuck in Sam's esophagus. We decide it's too big to be swallowed and try some very unpleasant attempts with the forceps, but as he gets more upset his muscles tighten around it. Plus, his palate repair is blocking it a little.
We talk out some options, exhaust the ones that don't require sedation and then start down that path.

We need to wait a little since his breathing is stable and he ate breakfast. We are going to try a local sedation but could very likely end up back in the OR. Time to call for back up for Jack and start the waiting. At 11:30 we can try a little sedative, a dental tool to keep the mouth open, then forceps again.















And there you have it.




WE LOVE OUR TRACH and can be thankful for it for the days to come.