Percutaneous Trans-Hepatic Choliangiogram, Anyone?

Maya’s liver enzymes have been elevated for months. We’ve had numerous ultrasounds and lab draws, but the doctors don’t really know what the issue is or if there is really an issue at all. They are concerned that her bile ducts might have some type of blockage. So now the next step is something called a percutaneous trans-hepatic choliangiogram. Say that five times fast, I dare you. If it sounds scary, that’s because it is. At least it is to me. This is yet another procedure that Maya must endure, and it’s scheduled for next week. The procedure is basically an invasive x-ray that requires general anesthesia. They will shoot dye through a needle that they place in her liver and bile ducts to see if there are any blockages. If there’s a problem, they’ll insert a stent. We might be in the hospital for one night, or maybe up to a week. In comparison to the months that we lived there during 2008-2009, this will hopefully be a short stay.

Am I allowed to turn into Stresserella now? Too late, I already have.

She’s actually had this done before, back in 2009. She toddled around for months with bile drainage bag that had to be drained at least once a day. (That was a fun task. Really.)  However, she was only three years old and stayed home with me all the time. Now she’s an active and goofy six year old who goes to school. The fact that she might miss a week of school is seriously going to bum her out. But this is life after a liver transplant. There have been bumps in the road, more surgeries, and weird health scares that have probably given me numerous gray hairs (not that I see them, as I get re-blonded every six weeks). And yet, she is one of the happiest children I have ever seen.

I know, in the larger scheme of things, that we are lucky. I hope this is only going to be a minor blip on the radar screen. To Maya, things like surgery, labs, and ultrasounds are a normal part of life. She’s never known anything different. But that doesn’t make the fear I feel now or the terror I’ll feel as I pace back and forth in the surgery waiting area any easier to deal with. I’m going to try to keep from turning into a blubbering mess of tears and snot as we deal with this hurdle. Maya is a strong little trooper who handles life with a smile on her face (unless you take away her Barbies, then all hell breaks loose), and I’m sure that she’ll bounce back from this as quickly as she usually does. At the very least, I am going to look forward to plenty of cuddle time with her as she recovers, as the day or two after surgery is the only time the child actually stays still for any length of time….