Home of the Four Trans

My younger sister’s reaction to my explanation as to why Justin has copious specks of gold throughout his head of otherwise jet-black head of hair.

I had brought this hair color issue to Justin’s pediatrician’s attention this past Friday. Although I was glad that it was “only” stress and not something else, I couldn’t help but be reminded of how Justin will never fully escape the psychological trauma of his open heart surgeries and hospital stays.

To relieve us of our worry and apprehension as we saw our child laying helpless, frozen, and bruised in the warmer, nurses would tell us that “he will not remember.” But, in that very moment, my child was experiencing physical changes to is body. And, though the feelings of pain, fear, sadness, and anxiety may not be remembered in his conscious or even his sub-conscious once we leave the hospital and resume our “normal” way of life, the events that have triggered those feelings will always be present and ingrained in his brain.

So, back to the doctor’s office. I responded to the doctor very much the same way my sister did when he gave me his explanation as to why Justin had those gold specks of hair.

“Stressed out? What do you have to be stressed out about, Justin?”

Only my response was not due to the this incredible idea that a child, let alone a baby could get stressed out. (I mean, all they have to do is eat, poop, and sleep, right? )

We’ve been home for only a month and those nights and gruesome sights that we experienced at the hospital seemed years ago. We really have settled into this sort of normal life…well, normal for us, anyway. I’d lie if I said that we’re so normal that I find myself “forgetting” Justin has congenital heart defects.

Sure, I still lay next to him to make sure he’s breathing evenly. I check his cheeks, eyes, fingers and legs to see if he’s looked more swollen at one point in the day than another (is it fluid retention from congestive heart failure or is he actually gaining some meat on his bones? How can I tell? Should I call the doctor? Are the medications working?) I obsess over how much he drinks and eats (everything is measured…how much does he have left in the bottle–5cc’s…10?) And, of course, the cardiology appointments that we’ve been having every 2 weeks also remind me.

But, Justin is such a happy baby. He’s all smiles all the time. And, for this past month since we’ve been home from the hospital, he’s been growing physically and cognitively; “thriving” is the word, I think. I’ve been singing to him, playing with him, doing stretches with him, dancing with him, talking to him, allowing Nathan to play with him, taking him for walks, and taking him out to see the world (i.e.; parks, Irvine Spectrum, model homes, restaurants,The Market Place). I’ve been filling his life with perspectives beyond me, hospitals and our bedroom window. And, how his eyes have opened in great awe to all the simple but wonderful things around us.

I have forgotten the “hospital Justin,” the post-operative bruised up Justin, the sad, anxiety-filled Justin.

The heart catheterization and Glenn procedure seem to be of a distant past, memories of which I never wish to conjure up if I could help it. I had made myself forget of that painful time for myself and for my Justin that I did not come to think that the open heart surgery had in fact caused him such tremendous stress that his hair would show proof.

But, his body and mind will not let him forget. Though my child will not “remember” of the tremendous physical manipulations done to his little being, his body and mind will remind him; they will tell him of what a warrior he was and is.

This entry was posted on Monday, March 17th, 2008 at 1:04 am and is filed under Heart Disease, Justin. You can follow any responses to this entry through the RSS 2.0 feed. You can leave a response, or trackback from your own site.