Sat check

After examining, reexamining, thinking, over-thinking and fretting the last two weeks about Luke's coloring in his hands and feet, I finally took him in to our cardiologist's today for a sat check. Two weeks ago, Luke got a summer cold, so I chalked up his purple-ness to that. But his nose has been clear for a few days and I still felt like his color was off.

His sats were from 81-84 at the office today, staying mostly at 83%. This is about the same as when we were in for his big appointment in May. He was congested back in May as well, so I didn't think too much about it, but now I'm wondering if this is his new normal. Since his Glenn four years ago, Luke has always satted 85-87%, so I am not loving the lower 80's. I asked Dr. S. today if in the next couple months they don't bounce back up a bit if we would start talking about the Fontan. His response was that he doesn't really want to talk about the Fontan unless or until Luke is satting in the 70's. He reminded me today that Luke is still strong, sats of low 80's are acceptable, and this next surgery will not be an emergent one. All good things to remember, but I have a hard time seeing any kind of change in Luke.

I know the Fontan will happen eventually. I also know that it can benefit Luke, but there is much of me that wants to believe he'll never need it. Luke has two cards stacked against him going into the Fontan, which cause our cardiologist to hold off as long as possible. One is Luke's history with pleural effusions. The second is his plicated diaphragm. Neither help a body adjust to a Fontan circulation. That doesn't mean that Luke won't tolerate it, it doesn't even mean that he won't sail through the surgery, it just means he has a higher chance of a tough recovery.

After today, and reflecting on how much of my thoughts have been taken up by Luke's health the past two weeks, I realized again how closely worry correlates with the time I spend — or don't — with God. Worry is such a thief; stealing joy and peace right and left. Experiencing peace and joy doesn't mean I don't think about Luke's heart, or advocate for him, or take him to the doctor when I'm concerned. Experiencing peace and joy means that I live with the assurance that God is bigger than a heart defect; that His plan for Luke's life is perfect as is His love for our family.

Today I return to this truth: "You will keep in perfect peace those whose minds are steadfast, because they trust in you. Trust in the LORD forever, for the LORD, the LORD himself, is the Rock eternal." —Isaiah 26:3-4