Jason, one of Albie’s godparents, sat vigil with Albie through the night. We are about to head up there now.
I have no real words to explain anything and I am not sure where to start. Albie is safe and stable. Dr Artrip, his surgeon, has warned us that kids like Albie, who are doing well, and then have these types of cardiac crisis are hard to treat. Its something that is impossible to predict and they dont know what caused it to happen. This happens here at Starship only 2 or 3 times a year and they do bypass operations every day, so its definitely out of the box. His heart has been beating, not strongly enough, but its there. The function of it otherwise appears good, so that is great. No blood goes through it though for the next few days to rest it as much as possible. They hope that after this rest it will be okay again. He hasn’t minced words with us and has warned that it may not be.
His brain. His beautiful, beautiful mind. This is where my tears start. He has about four screens around his head, and a gazillion probes measuring his brain activity. There will be no photos now. His chest is open and there are over 28 cords on his gorgeous hair alone. This morning they will do a muscle reactivity test and a brain waves test to assess the amount, if any, of brain injury from what happened yesterday.
We already feel thankful for so much. Yesterday, when Albie’s heartrate skyrocketed, plummeted and then ultimately stopped, his ICU pod became a flurry of activity – first as a resus bay, then as an impromptu theatre site. They got in there so, so quickly and for that we are crazy lucky. You see, the best surgeons that they needed to do that, were the ones that operated on Albie the day before. And by chance, they were all kitted up, with their surgical team, in the theatre next door. Not operating on another heart baby as had been planned but waiting as there had been a delay. The kind of delay that had been making us crazy a few days ago, kind of worked in our favour yesterday. If they hadn’t been there in the wings, things would be much more dire now than they are.
So, in the face of all of this we are hopeful. Albie’s whole body is hypothermic at the moment, and paralysed with a cacophony of drugs and through all of that he squeezed my hand last night. And incredibly he even opened his eyes when a probe got taken off his forehead. He’s there for sure – I just hope and hurt and pray that it is the Albie we knew and love so, so, so much.
Thanks for all your messages, we read everyone of them together through tears. Your support is getting us through.