Don’t be Daunted

Don’t be daunted. I write it as a declaration, as much for myself as a recommendation for others. It’s so easy to get swallowed up in the enormity of everything going on in the world. Let alone whatever we’re experiencing closer to home in our own personal lives. A medical visit for my son helped me to take a step back and release a little of the angst swirling around me.

In early March I took my older son Francisco to his annual cardiology appointment. Multiply disabled since birth, it’s one of his yearly check-ins, but it’s the most important. Other organs play vital roles, but none as integral to the functioning of your body as the heart and brain. Francisco has had open heart surgery twice, the first time as an infant and again at almost 10 years old. He has a rare cardiomyopathy, and the trajectory is for his heart function to decrease over time. He was born in congestive heart failure because of two holes in his heart and spent most of his twenty-five years in mild heart failure.

It sounds disconcerting, right? It does, it is. But it’s something we’ve had to get accustomed to. By now, it’s old hat. We don’t borrow trouble and imagine worst case scenarios. Plus, Francisco has this amazingly wild streak of overcoming odds. So, I’ve learned to put my faith in him. It most definitely is learned behavior because I’m more innately wired to “freak the fuck out”.

Francisco takes a couple of heart medications daily and is considered medically managed without restrictions for physical activity. Our mantra going into his annual cardiology check-up is always “not worse is good”.

This visit followed the familiar routine of checking his height and weight before getting his echocardiogram and EKG. After that we go to another exam room and await the cardiologist. She makes her way in after reviewing the findings of his diagnostic exams. The cardiologist came in, greeted us, and told us her assessment.

I remember precisely how she started, “I wanted to let you know that his heart function …” There was something about her cadence, the way she was delivering her information. I hung on every word, bracing myself for what might come next. She finished her sentence, “has actually improved. His heart function is at the low end of normal.” Wait, what? What surprisingly good news. No not good news, great news!

Somewhere along the way this “not worse is good” mantra has crept into my rationale in staying safe. A byproduct of that is staying risk averse, not swinging big, and playing small.