Did you just say esophagogastroduodenoscopy?

If my toddler read this entry she would probably ask if I learned it watching “Sid the Science Kid.” Unfortunately, when it comes to medicine I learn from experience.

The twice-daily lovenox shots I shied away from almost 8 months ago are now as painless as brushing your teeth. Designers of the insulin just need to sharpen the needles to get through thickening scar tissue. And so it goes with lab work, tests, and now minor outpatient surgery.

Cardiologists Melanie Everitt and Angela Yetman have been concerned about possible esophageal varices, which are extremely dilated sub-mucosal veins in my lower esophagus. They are most often a consequence of portal hypertension, commonly due to cirrhosis; patients with esophageal varices have a strong tendency to develop bleeding. It would make an already difficult transplant recovery much more challenging.

And so this past Monday I underwent a minor outpatient procedure referred to as an upper gastrointestinal test or esophagogastroduodenoscopy. Can you believe that word? You would think Mary Poppins had made it up.

Nonetheless, Dr. Dan Jackson at Primary Children’s Medical Center in Salt Lake City, Utah performs these all of the time and pronounces the word perfectly.

I walked into the operating room, laid flat on the narrow table a top what I call a patient's Tempur-Pedic mattress. I enjoyed some brief conversation with a few of the surgical nurses while a gifted anesthesiologist put me to sleep. I probably didn't get to finish what I was saying. Nonetheless, it was not very important.

While subdued, Dr. Jackson inserted a tube down my throat into my stomach. He pushed a minature camera in a pill form through me. Fortunately, he found no major concerns. There are a few varices in the lower third of my esophagus but nothing that needed banding.

While subdued Dr. Everitt was kind enough to arrange the removal of my existing picc line and reinsert in the same vein a double lumen picc so I can begin receiving nutritional formulas containing salts, glucose, amino acids, lipids and added vitamins this coming week. It is called total parenteral nutrition (TPN) and will help my body stay tuned up for major surgery.

Earlier that day my father Duane and wife Lynnette volunteered to keep me company. We’ve been through this before and so they came equipped with laptops and books to keep them busy.

I often feel sorry for the many parents who’ve come for the first time with nothing to do but pace the floor and watch Hanna Montana on the children’s hospital network television. Of course, I’m not sure what’s worse? Having surgery, or watching Zac & Cody on Disney channel and learning how suite their life is?

As of today, my sore throat is gone. But, at some point, I bit my lip and developed a few canker sores. No matter, I'm very pleased with the results and the procedure was practically painless.

What pulls me through?

(I've begun more iron infusions through my picc line which should give me boost.)

It's been a tough week. My body is tired. And I'll admit that I've been depressed at times and full of anxiety. And yet, at moments how can I feel empty? I have every reason to live and love.

What pulls me through?

Others. Family. Friends. All of you. My wife is beautiful in every way. Eden is adorable.

My former Bishop, who I served with as his executive secretary in our Church of volunteers, had his hip replaced. His recovery has been quick because he's a remarkable human being. He walked almost a mile to visit me using two forearm crutches. He's a man I admire and hope to one day be like.

Also, our neighbor who has cancer spread throughout her body, dropped off several dark red garden geraniums to add to the beauty of our yard which was spring cleaned by neighbors. They have green houses and spend time growing all kinds of vegetation. They also have a son whose had a heart transplant. She is a remarkable woman, who despite her illness, sits near us in church each week to thank God for what we have and hope for.

Another neighbor, a good man, father and husband, who has needed a liver transplant, who almost died a month ago, got a call for a liver. The surgery was a success and he is on the mend. It's a miracle. And we thank God.

When I am discouraged a tool that lifts me is music. With it's varying emotions and influence particular music pulls me through. What would the world be like without it? Pretty depressing. This past week I've been absorbing the lyrics and song from popular Christian artists MercyMe called I would die for you. The tune is on my playlist and is truly inspiring. It's as though they are singing my thoughts.

Finally, I had a great time watching the American Idol finale. I'll admit it. From a professional standpoint you can't go wrong with young newly discovered talent performing with icons Lionel Richie, KISS, Queen, Cindy Lauper, and others. The song Permanent former idol winner David Cook performed for his brother who died with a tumor was inspiring.

PICC Lines | Pick your PICC Lines.

This was a week of picc lines. (Incidentally, I should be grateful. Having a picc line with a good source of milrinone does make me feel better. So, being connected to a tube full time is not that bad.) I went in to the hospital on Monday because the area where my original picc in my right arm that I received 6 weeks ago was becoming irritated and red. We don’t want an infection so we decided to pull the picc and put a new one in my left arm. Only this time, I was not sedated like last time so I do remember the experience. Most adults aren’t sedated. But, I’m sort of a baby when it comes to needles and wires being thread through my veins so I usually beg for it. But, I manned up and went for it without sedation. We did the procedure in the cath lab. Needless, to say they gave me several shots that numb the skin before inserting the wiring and eventual picc. Like at the dentist when he numbs your gums before he drills. It wasn’t that bad. I went home 30 minutes later. Of course, my wife heard me say the whole ride home, “That wasn’t fun.” Oh well, I was happy to be home. After a few hours we noticed the leaking, slow leaking watery substance coming from where the picc was inserted. My wife, who is my home-health care nurse (lucky me), ended up changing the dressing over the next few days 6 times because of the leaking until yesterday I went in and had that picc removed and a new one placed in my right arm above my elbow where the original one was. Needless to say, the big needle wasn’t that bad and I made it home to watch the University of Utah destroy Alabama in a much-deserved BCS bowl. Let’s just hope this new picc doesn’t leak either. It’s only been a little more than 12 hours.

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A PICC is a long, thin, flexible tube known as a catheter. It is inserted into one of the large veins of the arm near the bend of the elbow. It is then slid into the vein until the tip sits in a large vein just above the heart.

The space in the middle of the tube is called the lumen. Sometimes the tube has two or three lumens (known as double or triple lumen). This allows different treatments to be given at the same time. At the end of the tube outside the body, each lumen has a special cap, to which a drip line or syringe can be attached. Sometimes there is a clamp to keep the tube closed when it is not in use.

Getting Out!

I was finally able to get out and do something other than travel to a hospital which felt really good. I went and voted early and then hit the drive through of "Crown Burger" with a friend. In addition, I went with my wife and daughter to my sister's home so Eden could trick or treat with her cousins. For a little girl who is always wearing princess dress ups she wanted to go as a spider. It was cute.

I saw my cardiologist Angela Yetman today and things looked stable. I'm giving myself lovanox shots twice a day to help me absorb protein.

I'm wearing oxygen 24/7 at 3 liters and I carry around the milrinone medication pumping into my arm through my picc line (there are 2 pictures to the right of the picc).

It is difficult to shower. But, I am grateful that these things are giving me more time while we wait for my heart.

Incidentally, I was moved up on the list to a status 1B. What does that mean? You're either a status 7, status 2, status 1B, or status 1A (I guess because they can't count from 1 to 4). To my understanding, and I might be wrong, a 7 is a person who has a hard time qualifying for a heart because of other disease, infection, weight, and more. A 2 is a person who needs a heart but they're at home and able to go to work or they are somewhat stable at home. A 1-B is in and out of the hospital, receiving medication through a picc full time, and other difficult issues. The 1-A's are in the hospital and don't have vey long. So, it certainly is an unusual situation because there are plenty of people who need a transplant of some kind. There is a great web-site with data about the list and those waiting or donating. CLICK HERE