My Husband Is Having A Catherization

Well, here we are.. About a year after the Mitral clips. (Backstory) Brian has been getting steadily worse. He says he feels like he is slowly dying.

Brian is exhausted. just exhausted. The other night when I was so graciously giving him the opportunity to scratch my back, he started but then put his hand on my shoulder to take a break. That was just another slap in my face (or maybe scratch in my back) reminder that it’s bad, really bad.

It’s hard. It’s hard for Brian. It’s hard for the kids. And it’s hard for me. As the mom and wife, I want to help him but I can’t. Not really. I mean, I can try to support the family on my crappy teacher salary. I can communicate with all of the doctors. I can listen. But what can I really do? Even though, I tell him that it will be fine and other crazy things like that, I feel like I am watching him slowly die too.

I miss my husband. How do you miss someone who is still here? You can. He tries so hard to still do the things but it’s so hard for him. I watch him take multiple breaks when climbing the 13 stairs to our bedroom. I watch him struggle to walk when the blood rushes to his legs when he stands up.

Where is the man who used to marvel at how slow I walk? I even miss his vague annoyance when he had to slow down. haha

Mayo Clinic

But the good news is that after our last visit to his physician assistant at Baptist, we were referred to the Mayo Clinic. Honestly, we should have been there all along. They are, after all, the best of the best.

Our first visit felt productive. They ran lots of tests, explained lots of stuff and assured us that they were going to be aggressive. They were not in the “wait and see” camp. Yay! This was music to our ears.

They ordered a catherization so they could check on exactly what his heart is doing or not doing. If the levels are above a certain amount, then they might be able to make some progress with med changes, etc. But If it’s below a certain amount, then they have to go internal. We know what it will be. After 3 stents, mitroclips, an defiblerator/pacemaker, endless meds. fluid restrictions, what else could possibly be done from the outside? And yes, I recognize that some of those things were internal, but you get my point.

We had to wait about 2 months for an opening but today is that day.

The Waiting Room

I’m sitting here in the waiting room as Brian gets ready to have his catherization. I’m bummed that I couldn’t sit back there with him until it was go-time (he’s been in pre-op for over an hour) but on the up-side, I didn’t have to wait too long for my cinnamon roll!

Everytime that something is done, we are given the impression that now things will be better, But it never is. So as I sit here, for me, the fear is that this is another waste of time. What if they say that we should give the medication a little more time? Or let’s continue with the fluid restrictions a little longer?

Sure, no problem. I enjoy watching my husband slowly fade away. Let’s do that. Dr. Ruiz said that they would be aggressive; that they wouldn’t just wait and see. Hopefully, he was speaking the truth. But what if the numbers and levels that they find don’t support that? What if?

What’s Next?

The only two next logical invasive interventions that we are aware of are the Lvad pump and a transplant. Both are scary. But, Brian is up for anything that makes him feel human again. And so am I.

But for now, all I can do is sit, wait and feel powerless. But I’m kind of used to that by now. The last year and a half has been an endless fight with only minor victories.

But I might take a little break from the self-pity and go get another cinnamon roll cause Mayo is also the best of the best in the cinnamon roll making department.