Monday, March 7, 2016

Brent's (very) full heart

Time for a Reichman family update. Wow, so much has been going on!

Let's start with Brent for this post, because some of you may have heard some things and we'd like to make sure everyone knows what's going on so no one is needlessly worrying.

About a month ago, Brent and I were watching a movie (I don't remember which, but it wasn't a high-action or suspenseful one), and we were cuddling and I could hear Brent's heartbeat. I noticed it seemed to be beating particularly fast, so I pointed it out. He commented that sometimes that just happens, that his heart will beat fast for seemingly no reason. This wasn't the first time I'd noticed these strange and random palpitations, but this conversation made Brent wonder if he should get it checked out.

He asked his dad, who is a doctor, (an ENT surgeon to be exact), if this was something he should be concerned about. My father-in-law's usual remedy for any ailment is, "Sleep on it, you'll feel better in the morning." But this time he suggested Brent should get it looked at, just in case. We called up his Uncle Howard, a well-respected neurosurgeon in the area, if he knew anyone he could recommend, and he immediately recommended Wong and Hwang (pronounced the same), as the experts in the state of Utah for irregular heart palpitations. Unfortunately, Brent couldn't see either of them until he'd had a visit with a general practitioner, who would then refer him to a specialist.

After an appointment with a general practitioner and an EKG, Brent was possibly diagnosed with a rare but treatable condition called Wolff-Parkison-White Syndrome, or WPW (more on that later). The doctor wasn't entirely sure, and he sent the EKG off to the cardiologist, telling Brent if the doctor saw anything to be concerned about, then they would schedule an appointment with the specialist. Later that day it was confirmed that he would have an appointment with the cardiologist the next Friday. That naturally had us worrying about what could be wrong. We did what research we could on our own, but without an actual confirmation of what was wrong we were mostly left with a lot of anxiety. It also didn't help that the next day I found out that a commission I had spent a lot of very stressful hours on had arrived to Alaska, only to be damaged by a mailman determined to fit the package into the mailbox by folding it into thirds. The piece, which was extremely sentimental to the client, was irreparably damaged. Add that Caleb slept terribly that weekend because he has a bunch of new teeth coming in, and it just made for a really *awesome* weekend, and I may or may not have had a bit of an angry breakdown.

On Saturday night and Sunday morning, Brent felt some pressure in his chest. Not pain, just some tightness. We thought we better play it safe, so we dropped Caleb off with a friend and headed to the urgent care. We waited 3 hours there to get another EKG done, only to be told we needed some more lab work done, but sorry it's Sunday so everything else there is closed so we need to go to the ER. We went to the ER across the street, where they took some samples, did another EKG, and we waited for almost 4 hours. The people watching was much more interesting at the ER than the Urgent Care, but at least Urgent Care had Toy Story 2 playing, which is preferable to sitting next to a poor barfing elderly patient. Still wondering what was up with the female patient who arrived with the cops in handcuffs though.

Finally we were seen by a doctor. He immediately confirmed that Brent has WPW, but was extremely matter-of-fact and optimistic about the treatment for it. He and the nurse also know the cardiologist Brent would be seeing and confirmed that he was one of the best around for this particular condition. The chest pressure remained a mystery, but seems to have been brought about by stress (probably from the recent heart diagnosis!) We left feeling so relieved and much more confident.

On Friday, Brent finally saw the actual cardiologist, who confirmed that Brent has WPW, and that a procedure called an ablation was necessary, but would totally take care of the problem. Brent needs to have an echo cardiogram done first before we can schedule the procedure (he was very careful to never use the word "surgery"), just to make sure there are no other underlying issues that could interfere with the ablation. After listening to his heart, Dr. Hwang said he was fairly positive that they wouldn't find anything new with the echo cardiogram, but it needed to be done just to be extra sure. We are still waiting to hear when the echo can be done, but once that is done the ablation will be scheduled. Our best guess is that the ablation will happen in April. Just pray it doesn't happen in May, because we got a baby due then!




So, what is Wolff-Parksinson-White?

Turns out WPW is something you are born with. This condition is when you have an extra electrical connection in your heart. Most people are born with just one, but some extra special people, like Brent, are born with two (his wonderful heart was one of the reasons I married him!). This extra connection can make your heart beat really fast sometimes. (And not just when your wife is extra good-looking.) For Brent it happens about once a month and lasts for about five minutes. About 1/20,000 people have it, and some people go their whole life without realizing they have it. So, it's rare, but not unheard of.

Now, WPW is not something to be worried about most of the time as a young person, but it can definitely be a problem in the elderly years when one's ticker starts having other issues. Because of this, the connection needs to be removed by a procedure called an ablation. In this procedure, a catheter is stuck up a vein near the groin, goes up to the heart, and the connection is burned. It lasts anywhere from 3-6 hours. Easy peasy. It's not even technically a real surgery (they don't even put you to sleep), and the success rate of this surgery is 96%, with 1% chance of complications. So the numbers are really in our favor here. As far as recovery goes, the patient stays in the hospital for a day, just to make sure there are no issues (since it's the heart they're dealing with), and then about 2-3 days of recovery at home with no heavy lifting for about a week.

So, that's what's going on with Brent's ticker. We are not worried about it at all, and feel like if Brent's going to have a heart problem, this is definitely one of the better ones to have.  I feel like we have had so many tender mercies with all of this, all of which makes me feel very reassured that Heavenly Father is watching out for us and that everything is going to be okay. For example, we are living in Provo instead of doing grad school somewhere else, and this is where one of the best cardiologists for this specific condition resides. When we went to the appointment, we found out to our frustration that our insurance wouldn't cover this doctor without a 2 week pre-authorization (even though their website stated otherwise), but when the doctor saw Brent's name, he thought he better see him, since he knew Dr. Howard Reichman. So, they saw Brent for the first visit and didn't charge us a dime, and we didn't have to wait 2 extra weeks to see the specialist. At the ER we were able to see a doctor and nurse who could actually confirm a diagnosis and answer our biggest questions and left us feeling very reassured. Caleb was an angel with the friends we left him with while we were gone for 7 long hours. So, we are feeling very good about all this. Does it stink that it's happening at all? Of course, but life is not without it's bumps.

Long story short, Brent has a heart condition, but he will have a procedure soon to get it taken care of, and everything is going to be a-okay. Special thanks to Uncle Howard and your wonderful connections, and to the Southern family for taking care of Caleb, and everyone else who has been checking up on us.

If you have any questions or concerns, please just ask us, as we don't want anyone to be worried about us. I never know how to end a blog post, so here is a comic.





Saturday, February 6, 2016

My day: a tale of the joys of nursing bra shopping

I'd like to take you on a journey with me. Now, in order for this exercise to work, you'll need to be at least a DDD cup, but preferably closer to a J. If you are smaller, have no fear. Just take two full sandbags of unequal sizes and staple one to each side of your chest. Now get a small watermelon and staple that to your belly, because--surprise!--you are also 6 months pregnant. Wait a few minutes until your back is sore. If the pain is searing, wait a couple weeks until the pain has diminished to a dull but constant ache.

 Your supplies:


If you are indeed pregnant, mentally prepare yourself to repeatedly hear, "You're how far along? You're tiny!" Big chests like to hog all the attention, so they create this crazy optical illusion like your bulging belly is in fact tiny. This is because most expecting women have bellies that protrude beyond their breasts, while you will have the opposite problem until you are around 56 weeks pregnant. If your chest could be shrunk to a normal size, you would like a normal pregnant lady, but instead you just look a little pudgy. Kinda like a cranky walrus, but not as cute.

While most mommy blogs (which are always accurate *sarcasm* and the #1 reason why American mothers are the most neurotic in the world *not sarcasm*) insist that you should wait to get a nursing bra until after your baby is born in order to buy an accurate size, you opt to not do that for the following reasons:


1) While the idea of bra shopping with an active toddler and a potentially colicky baby while functioning on high levels of postpartum hormones and little sleep sounds like a lot of fun, you have enough sense to know that employees probably won't appreciate an emotional breakdown in their store while your tot has a hay day trying on all the neat siamese hats in the store and your baby screams in its carseat. 
2) The memory of your past online nursing bra shopping experience makes you hyperventilate and you're still trying to suppress the feeling of wanting to throw your computer at the wall whenever the term "nursing bra" is mentioned at play group.
3) This ain't your first rodeo show. While yes, your chest will grow (significantly, I might add), prior experience has taught you that, no matter your size, you are going to be buying the largest sandbag holder they own. You might as well get it out of the way now while your hormonal levels are at level: caution instead of later when they are at level: tranquilizers and institutionalization needed.
4) When your milk comes in, your boobs will be so large that you'll need a wheelbarrow in order to carry them around and you won't be able to leave the house for fear that the circus might kidnap you to put in their freaky humans show. 

If my art career doesn't work out, I guess I have a fallback


Now you're ready to go! With any luck, you have at least one child, which means you'll be running lots of other errands today in a desperate attempt to squeeze all your chores into the one day Dad can stay home with them. Go drive around for an hour and a half with an incomplete address, as the closest lingerie store that *might* have something close to your size is about 45 minutes away. Once, you did try looking for a shop in your city, but it turns out that the only one listed online was put on Yelp as a prank, and when you called the number listed someone quickly became extremely cranky when you asked if they were The Love Monkey Boutique. True story. You have asked your busty relatives what they did in their child-bearing years, but instead of advice, a far-off harrowed look appeared in their suddenly darkened eyes as the memories of a horrific past and PTSD lingered near the surface of their conscience.

Back to our own shopping adventure: Arrive at your destination and enter. Walk past the cute printed bras without looking at them. Some lucky B-cup gets those, but you never will. Unless of course, you get a reduction, in which case prepare for a lot of people silently judging you when truthfully answer their question of how you magically lost all that weight and back pain. Go straight to the granny bras, which are inaccurately nicknamed, because we all know that granny saggy boobs don't need bras, they need tube socks. Speaking of which, legend has it that one of my ancestors had boobs so large, that when she became an elderly woman she would sprinkle her "girls" with baby powder (to prevent sticking) and would literally roll them up like a freaking mammary cinnamon bun and stick them into her bra. I'm not even kidding.

My future.


But I digress. 

Most shop keepers are friendly, so feel free to ask all the questions you need, but a man just sauntered into the store, so don't get too comfortable (doesn't he have a sports game he could watch or something??). Try on all the bras you think might be in your size. Don't worry, they will be easy to locate--they are the ones you used to gawk at as a kid and put on your face and pretend were sunglasses. Discover that the second largest size they have already fits snugly, even for your smaller boob. You still have 3 months before your milk will actually come in, an event that will increase your boob size by at least 2-3 cups. Doing the math, this means that the largest size they have won't actually be big enough for your needs, but since you have no other options, grab half the store's stock in that size anyway. So, 1 bra. (The loan you had to take out to afford this bra won't cover the 2nd one.)



The employee nervously tries to tell you that they really don't recommend buying nursing bras until after the baby is born. While you awkwardly try to explain your reasons without being rude, some other gray-haired customer pipes in her unsolicited opinion that she agrees, you should wait, she knows because she just had her 7th kid. Your hormonal levels, which have already been shaky, increase by 20 degrees and you want to snap, "Yeah I can tell, maybe you should stop having kids" but you refrain because 1) you are a Christian and 2) you have a creepy feeling that this elderly-looking woman might actually be you ten years in the future coming to send you a desperate warning.

Buy the bra. Try to ignore the price tag and your bulging breasts' desperate cries for help.

Now, if your experience wasn't this successful or fun, you can always order two 20-man camping tents and rig them together with bungee cords and an industrial-sized sewing machine to make your own nursing bra. In fact, all the pockets those tents come with will probably be really useful for storing the formula and bottles you'll need when your supply is low, because in a sick twist of fate big boobs don't always make very much milk for your starving and wailing bundle of joy. Heaven forbid your boobs should actually do their one job! (Okay your boobs do have another job, but we wouldn't want feminazis to think that we actually like that our husbands appreciate our curves.)

Congratulations! You have finished shopping for a nursing bra. Now go treat yourself to a kid-free Target trip and just be grateful that at least you didn't have to go maternity swimsuit shopping.

Women who just returned from bra shopping