Bean’s doctor called me last Friday to let me know the results, and they were a mixed bag. On the positive side, there were no arrhythmia’s of any kind. But the bad news is, the evidence of an accessory pathway did show up intermittently. In other words, she does still have WPW, although the intermittent nature of its appearance on the monitor means that the accessory pathway is most likely weakening. It might still go away on its own, someday.

Needless to say, at first I was pretty bummed. However, the doctor was optimistic. First, since she stopped taking heart medication three years ago, Veronica has never had any episodes of SVT or other arrhythmia. Second, as mentioned, the intermittent nature of the evidence of the pathway means that it’s probably weakening. He felt that all we needed to do was continue as before, and have her come back again to be checked out next summer. Further, he didn’t think that surgery was necessarily indicated next summer, even if the WPW is still present. He actually said that if the condition is still present when she’s a teenager, at that time we might consider the ablation that we had previously discussed with other doctors in the practice.

So overall, the prognosis is good. While I was a bit depressed and let down at first, on further reflection I’m actually feeling pretty positive about this. Honestly, every day that Veronica is alive is really a gift. I know that sounds ridiculously melodramatic, but let me just tell you…after you’ve stood in an emergency room hallway, watching eight people surround your three-week-old baby on a giant bed, trying desperately to find a vein where they can insert an IV to give her medication to slow down her heart, beating a wild 300 or so beats a minute; after you’ve watched in horror and disbelief as paddles are applied and her little body jerks wildly as they try to re-start her heart, which they finally slowed so much it stopped; after you’ve seen your baby strapped to a cart and attached to many machines rolled down the hall away from you to a waiting helicopter that you can’t ride in, to go to the regional children’s medical center; well… After all of those things and more, when you see that same little girl at four years old, happy and healthy and funny and creative, it really does seem like every day with her is a blessing.

Therefore, if we need to take Veronica to the cardiologist once a year until she’s 18, or have a Holter monitor every year, or even give her medication again at some point, I’m not going to complain. I’m just glad she’s healthy, and that at least she doesn’t remember any of those horrible things that I’ll always remember.

I was pretty happy when the doctor looked at her EKG and told us that he sees no evidence of WPW anymore. He mentioned a slight heart murmur, which is apparently normal for her age and nothing to be concerned about. He listened to her heart via stethoscope for a long time, then they ran an electrocardiogram, just to be sure. Everything looked good. My baby is cured!!

They still want her to endure a Holter monitor, just for thoroughness. I suppose I shouldn’t fault them for that, but try explaining to an active four-year-old why she has to wear all those stickers and some device for 24 hours (along with pulling off the very sticky leads later). Not fun. So we go back in a week and a half to get that. Then we just have to follow up every two years or so.

And THAT news is good for MY heart.

It freaks me out how fast she’s growing up. But just tonight, when we were eating dinner, she stopped me in mid-sentence (I don’t even remember what I was talking about) and asked, “But Mommy…I’m still your baby, right?”

Aww.

The Bean had a birthday. Oh, Bean. I love you, but you frustrate me SO MUCH. Our Bean was kind of cranky and naughty on the day itself, and her party almost ended up canceled. But things worked out in the end:

With her favorite cousin and her Barbie cake.

She’s so into girly stuff right now. She definitely had a little bit of a tomboy phase but now it’s all pink, all the time. She loves dressing up, Barbies, ballerinas, fairies, and princesses. I remain neutral on all of these issues. For example, I had Barbies when I was little, and honestly loved them. I loved dressing them in all kinds of outfits and acting out all kinds of little soap operas with them. But that was several decades ago, and I willingly admit that my interest in Barbie has waned. I haven’t gone out of my way to encourage Bean’s interest in Barbie, but since she has clearly shown that she has it, I haven’t discouraged it either.

So I bought her the Barbie cake that she specifically told me she wanted, every time we passed the bakery department at Target. I bought her a new Barbie doll (which she loved) and her father bought Barbie balloons and decorations for her party. As a feminist, I have some problems with Barbie now, but you have to admit she’s 100 times less offensive then those hideous Bratz dolls (thank God those things got discontinued).

I guess I could refuse to indulge her taste for Barbie, or for Hello Kitty or Disney princesses for that matter, but what would that get me? An unhappy kid? No, thanks. So she likes girly stuff, so what? She also loves to draw and paint, kick the ball around, ride her bike (and her new scooter), sing and dance, and tell secrets to her teddy bear. I think she is becoming a well-rounded, well-adjusted person, and I love her just the way she is.

On her new scooter...

]]> http://www.groovymarlin.com/blog/archives/872/feed 0 http://www.groovymarlin.com/blog/archives/809 http://www.groovymarlin.com/blog/archives/809#comments Tue, 02 Mar 2010 15:04:47 +0000 groovymarlin http://www.groovymarlin.com/blog/?p=809 This morning while I was making myself up in the bathroom, my daughter burst in.

“Mommy! Know what happened to my shoe?”

“No honey, what happened?”

“Um, um, um, um, um, um, uhhh….I don’t know…”

We have similar conversations often; every parent of a toddler or pre-schooler does. The important thing to remember here is this: don’t laugh until after she leaves the room. Yes, of course I want to be a supportive and nurturing parent at all times, but come on…that stuff is hilarious! You can almost see her brain speeding up and going faster than her mouth, eventually leaving her behind all together. So cute!

Eventually her father and I helped her remember what happened to the shoe, by the way: it had a thread hanging off it.

The other day, Bean started telling me knock-knock jokes. A leap forward in her humorous abilities! Sort of.

Bean: Knock knock!
Me: Who’s there?
Bean: Veronica!
Me: Veronica who?
Bean:….it’s me!!

Bean: Knock knock!
Me: Who’s there?
Bean: (giggling) Veronica butt!
Me: Veronica butt who?
Bean: (laughing) I said butt!!

Me: Knock knock.
Bean: Who’s there?
Me: Mommy
Bean: OK Mommy, you can come in.

Me: (trying again) Knock knock!
Bean: We’re not home!

(Image adapted from here.)

I’m so excited I might pee my pants. Being able to bend/straighten my arm will make everything so much easier. I’m a little worried about how my arm is going to look. I can tell the skin is really dry because I’m itchy a lot more, and the skin on my exposed fingers is so dry, it’s constantly flaking off – and I can put lotion there! I know the outer layer of my skin is just exfoliating itself but it’s so gross to contemplate on a large scale (like an entire arm). Ew!

Finally got the DVD with copyright release of the costumed photos that got taken of Veronica back in January. This was a complete surprise! I walked in to pick her up from daycare and this dude says “Would you like to look at the proofs and see what you like?” I didn’t even know they were going to take pictures and was stunned that they had actually dressed all the kids in costumes and photographed them on a set. The pictures were mind-numbingly adorable, and I paid a ridiculous sum to get a package, but how could I not?

My wrist is screaming now that I’ve typed all this, so I’m off to take more drugs. But here are a few of the photos (full set here).

Sunday afternoon, I went and got my nails done and then hit the gym. When I got home, Bean wanted me to paint her toenails, so we headed up to my room to take care of that. While she was picking out the right shade of pink polish, I decided to change my t-shirt, because I was kind of a stinky mess. So I took it off, threw it in the hamper, and started looking for a clean one.

Bean looked at me and said, “Oh, Mommy. Are you gonna get all nakey?”

The way she said it, in a Very Serious Tone, just cracked me up. Laughing, I told her I was just putting on a clean one, then did so and painted her toenails.

I kind of wish I could ask her some follow-up questions, now that I’ve had time to think about it. Like, “What if I was getting nakey? Would that bother you? Did you want to get nakey too? Shouldn’t we all just get nakey?” LOL. Unfortunately, I’m sure she doesn’t even remember it now, her little three-year-old brain is too full of Disney princesses and race cars and chocolate chip cookies and other important matters.

Kids. They’re strange.