The Giggles Of Friendship

For the past few years, we've noticed that Andi doesn't have playdates like most kids.  Part of that is/was due to her busy therapy schedule, but where were the invitations?  Andi hasn't had one friend that's called her, invited her to do something, or just hang out.  We wanted to get her into Girl Scouts or Brownies, thinking that would be a great way to foster friendships, but there wasn't a chapter at her school.  Her teachers report that everyone likes Andi at the entire school.  They all know who she is and most of them look out for her.  So, her Dad and I have been smelling our own arm pits wondering, 'is it us? do we stink!?' And then we scratch our heads and wonder why she isn't experiencing this childhood rite of passage, friendship.  Moving into this house, like I've written before, one of our many motivations for getting a house with a pool, was to encourage social get-togethers, not just for us - but for Andi too.  I know when I was a kid, we'd always hang out at the kid's house with a pool when the club was closed. This is what we hoped for with Andi.  She had her first friend over to swim a few weeks ago, and next thing I know, Andi tells me on the way home from After-School Care that she invited her over for a sleepover and she said yes! 

All week, Andi was counting down the days until her friend came over for a sleepover.  She'd constantly ask me, 'what are we going to do?' and not only repeat the questions rolling around through her mind, but she was seriously mapping it out in her head.  The morning that her friend was to come over, she awoke giddy.  She was in such a good mood, so excited.  She was literally floating around the house with excitement.  It was pretty dang cute.

She was so excited, I'm actually surprised she didn't give herself a belly ache!  We worked on setting up her room, bringing her old twin mattress and putting it on the floor next to her bed.  She helped me make up her friends bed.  She just buzzed around the house with this wonderful energy.

Her friend arrived and we 'shot-the-sh*t' with her parents, who are pretty dang cool.  When they left, I ordered a pizza via Uber-Eats, and they went downstairs to enjoy a movie on the big TV while we awaited the pizza. We never did get to see The Greatest Showman for the 43rd time, but whatever.  After pizza, we played Sleepover MadLibs, ate some homemade ice cream, played Kids On Stage (Charades), and then had a dance party.  By this time, it was 10:00 and the girls were hyper, but exhausted. They got ready for bed and once I got Andi to "be a big girl" and leave the lights off for the night, just having a night-light on -- I closed the door and that was the last I heard from them.  They were out.  By 6 a.m., they stirred.  By 6:30, her friend kept whispering Andi questions, 'are you awake?', 'do you want to go wake up your parents?' I don't even remember what else I heard, because I was saying in my own head, 'oh honey, she can't hear you without her hearing aid on...' and that just made me sad for Andi. It made me realize that we probably need to start keeping her hearing aid in her room.  I've noticed that when I wake her in the mornings, and put on her hearing aid and music, she wakes much better and faster than without.  It's hard to imagine how scary that must be for her not to be able to hear, how frustrating at times, how exhausting.  But then I think, wow - how peaceful it must be at times too. I want to say she doesn't know any different, but she does, because she experiences it all day when her hearing aid is on. But I know, Andi will do what she does... she'll adapt, divide and conquer.  

So, we're up at 6:30 a.m. and by 6:35, I'm getting demands for the chocolate chip pancakes I mentioned the night before.  I was able to detour the short-order cook role for a cup of coffee, but once that was gone, they were on me again.... 'when we going to eat pancakes?'  The pancakes were a big hit, and that turned into playing.  They played with play dough, coloring, then they played 'school' and took turns being the teacher.  They played so well together, it was so much fun to watch.  Hearts flew out of my dewy eyes, as she finally had a typical kid experience that we've been waiting for what seems like forever to occur.  Her parents brought donuts, and we sat around chatting while the kids played some more.  Neither of them wanted to stop, but when they left, we marked two more occasions on our calendars for our next get togethers. I know Andi will be a good friend to anyone and everyone she deems worthy.  I am just absolutely thrilled that she's finally got someone who wants to hang out and play.  Most of my childhood memories revolve around the many people from the neighborhood I hung with nearly every day.  All my best memories include these people.  So, I'm hopeful that Andi will have such memories of her own that she can start creating. In the meantime, the sound of little girls giggling are still echoing this evening.  The start of a glorious new chapter.

Chatter Box Bean

Every night I put Andi to bed, we have this routine of making sure everything is in its place, give a dozen 'a hug & a kiss' - a few I love you ASL signs and good night's.  Once I exit the room and shut the door, she starts talking.  And I mean, TALKING.  "Hi! How are you? How was your day?"  She rattles one side of a conversation that lasts a good 1/2 hour. She runs through her whole day. Conversations she's had.  Gives instructions to her audience, like she has heard throughout the day.  I think it's her way of processing, categorizing her day - and one way she can remember so much more than most.  However, a part of me wonders if she's chatting up a storm with our ancestors, ala the movie Heart and Souls (staring Robert Downey Jr.)  She is just talking and talking, and this happens every single night.  
* Product of an only child? 
* Product of a spiritual nature? 
* Crazy ass kid processing her day?  
Whatever the reason, I love hearing her chatter her thoughts. It's insightful to what she doesn't offer during the evening hours.  Right now she's insistent about "not taking off our shoes" - something I had to tell her in the store earlier today.  Now she's talking about Kelly.  I'm guessing it's my friend, but it could be Kelly Clarkson from the Voice.  I can't tell.  It's comical, adorable and I savor these instances where I can slow down and just listen. My baby girl isn't always going to talk to me... so, right now, I just need to enjoy the chatter box Bean.

Mantra / Vision

I've said this a time or ten, but, these past 8 years I've repeatedly heard, "I don't know how you do it,  you're so strong!"  And I usually blush and say something like 'I'm no stronger than anyone else!  You do what you have to do."  But if you really want to see me fall apart, tell me there is something more to follow on my kid.  Tell me there's something else wrong.  After 8 years of being followed, tell me that you've discovered something new.  Yeah, then let's talk about how strong I am.  I'm no different than any one of you.  I might hide it better.  I may be sarcastic, even make jokes about other things, but it's all a distraction from what's eating me. At one point, I had someone assess me and they said in addition to all my glory that perhaps a part of me seemed a bit sad.  I didn't disclose anything about anything and I found this to be intriguing as I've always been the life of the party, or close to it.  

Again, want to watch me shrivel and doubt... tell me we need to be seen by a specialist more frequently to capture data.

Today, Andi, at 8 years of age, was diagnosed as having a coloboma.  What's a coloboma?  Want your head to spin (no offense to the Dr's studying this shit, but seriously... plain English - is it REALLY that difficult?!)  

https://www.chargesyndrome.org/factsheet-about-coloboma-of-the-eye/

I'd offer up other links, but I find myself getting rather irritated with the internet, and even vodka is not helping that.

Visit the CHARGE Syndrome Foundation page - I'm sure there's a ton of info. there that even to this day (no offense) I haven't studied.  Flashback:  when Andi was clinically diagnosed at 4 or 5 days old in the NICU, before being transferred to OHSU, Cory went home and spent about 8 hours reading everything he could about CHARGE Syndrome.  He came back to the hospital nearly hyperventilating to tell me whatever I do, don't read about it on the internet.  I think he actually forbade me to get online to do any sort of reading because he knew it'd freak me the f- out.  Which honestly, it would've as I was a shell of a human being on pain med's for a c-section, and just shell shocked from the surprise of all of Andi's woe's... especially when I was at the Dr's office so regularly.  Shell shocked... that's a great description.

Getting back to today... why didn't they see this prior to today?  First of all, when she was in the NICU looking for coloboma's - they wouldn't have had such a large vision of the areas around the eye, just a fraction.  Why didn't we see this when she was dilated a year or so ago?  Because we didn't utilize the Optos machine which can take deeper, better images behind the eye.  So, last week, we did her yearly exam.  Her eyesight deteriorated a slight .25% but improved in certain regard.  In that appointment, I agreed to pay extra for the Optos machine, which isn't covered by insurance (f-u insurance companies, times infinity - because if this could've been found earlier...and I didn't feel I had the funds to support the extra cost...  f-u.  You worthless co........ uhm, never mind.)   Anyhow, here are some pictures from today's appointment.  

First, grumplestilskin that didn't want to get her eye's dilated. Secondly, my big pupiled girl with her 'eye-dr shades' on...  She is unchanged.  It's Mom that needs to find her strength, resolve and sorry Dad, "balls o' steel!"  Tomorrow morning's kickboxing workout will probably be epic.  Enter therapy of a different kind.  'Maybe a little sad' is not something I identify with.  Like I've taught Andi to chant, our mantra is "I'm strong, I'm brave, and no one is going to push me around!" 

Surgery #10 (from August 2018)

*Accidently posted this on my other blog.*

Today, I scheduled Andi's surgery #10... a bilateral bone conduction anchor surgery.  Just after Thanksgiving, Andi will be going under for an anchor (a big screw) being placed behind both ears, feeding sound directly into the bone and thus, the nerve. It will take six months healing to allow the bone to surround the new hardware.

Surgery #10.

We haven't done any sort of "procedure" since January 2015, when we put a set of "T-tubes" in her ears.  A long-enduring set of ear tubes to help her ears properly drain.  One of those t-tubes is still in place today, in her "good" ear - if you will.  Prior to this t-tube surgery, we haven't had a "real surgery" since surgery #6 I believe.  i think 7, 8, an 9 are ear tube placements.  But still, a surgery is a surgery, and when it comes to a kid with CHARGE Syndrome, nothing is guaranteed.  When it comes to another anesthesia, intubation, intrusion... nothing brings back "medically fragile" parenting PTSD than the simplest words used in a hospital.  Words like,  'it depends', 'deductible', 'just in case', and my personal favorite -- the eau du hospital hand sanitizer scent.  That is what really sends my stomach into Cirque du Soleiel stomach flips and feeds the anxiety.

But to answer the "why!"  Why put her through this surgery.  First of all, we're doing bilateral.  Andi only has a functional auditory nerve on one side... but, technology has advanced to the point where they can implant both sides with "an anchor"  (a fancy screw in her skull), and then program the hearing devices to feed into the left ear, so that she'll be sent auditory sounds from both ears, but to the one ear that can process sound.  It isn't guaranteed that she'll be able to determine what side she's hearing from, but it will likely alleviate a majority of the "what?" from the right side.   Our ENT described it as such - she'll get 80% hearing from her left ear, and the other 20% will be sent to her left ear.  It's going to improve her hearing.  And transitioning from the soft band (the headband she's been wearing these past few months) to the anchor, will improve her sound quality, her hearing - as it will be a more direct line through the bone.  

Our objective is what every parent wants, the best quality and quantity of life that we can provide.  For Andi, one of the most sociable, musical and extremely engaging children I've ever met - improving her hearing will only strengthen her ability to become the Dr. she has been programmed (insert Mom's dreamy sigh here) to be.  This kid with her personality, her incredible memory, her command of knowledge, her ability to empathize, and her own set of experiences... who else would you envision taking care of your grandchildren or grandchildren's grandchildren?  I think our lil' Andi Bean will be the perfect stewart of all things medical, and write a path unlike anyone else.

Risks.  One risk is infection.  We have a plan in place and our ENT swears we will do everything in our power to minimalize our risk, which she swears is small.  Another risk is slippage or dislodging the device.  While it's healing for six months, the base post will be under the skin - held in place by stitches to keep it under the surface while the bone grows around it.  There will be no need to cut her hair, or shave a section of her hair off.  She also plans to put a secondary hole next to where the main post will go, in case we run into any sort of issues, such as dislodging the initial post.  None are expected, but it's a precaution they take while in there to aid in speeding up the healing time should the secondary hole be needed.

Surgery #10.
We are giddy at the opportunity for technology to advance our baby girl's hearing.  We are nauseous at the idea of another procedure, another surgery, another recovery, more pain management, more downtime.  We dread the idea of infection, the idea of one wrong move in something such as gymnastics class knocking a well-intact post out of place.  But, generally, any sort of surgery produces a whole stream of anxiety that most people don't understand unless they've lived it.  Sadly, tonight - I'm far too tired to explain it any better.

Lastly, need I remind you that this is all in attempt to allow Andi to utilize the lately technology enabling her to hear as well as she will at this juncture... (until technology advances even further.)  Our surgery is slotted for after Thanksgiving.  So, please... start laying out your good juju for our Andi Bean.  And start stocking Mommy's Vodka cabinet...she's going to need it.  *kidding on the vodka, Dad!*  :)  

Does It Smell In Here, Or Is It Just Me!?!

Tonight, on my way home from work, I stopped by my neighborhood grocery store.  Actually, it's not really anywhere near my new neighborhood, but I can't stand trying to get in / out of the two stores closer to my house.  Plus, I seem to spend about $30. more each visit at the neighborhood stores because they're grossly overpriced.  So, tonight, I picked up some of my favorite flowers to just add a little something extra to our new home.  The lady that lived here before us had a really old dog, and the front of the house seems to smell like an old, wet dog -- says the bionic nose.  I intend on getting the air ducts cleaned, but cleaning the floors myself have not taken that scent away.  EWH.

Enter the subject... sense of smell.

I have a very heightened sense of smell.  Today, a lady in my office wore a perfume that one of my bestie's used to wear and I was honestly gagging (no offense to my friend.)  It was strong, pungent, and I'll spare you my monolog about people's overindulgence of perfume/cologne.  Now, enter the pungent lily, my favorite.  First of all, it's a natural smell - so I don't mind it at all.  Second, it's pretty. Third, I don't dare ask Andi to smell it.  

When Andi was in the NICU (Neonatal Intensive Care Unit -- for those that luckily don't speak hospital like me!) she had a plethora of tests, obviously.  She had an MRI, CAT scan, blood work, this, that and the other... and sure as shit, they determined that Andi probably would lack a sense of smell due to her bilateral choanal atresia. (Nasty surgery that clears tissue and bone to create a traditional nasal airway... imagine that.)  Yep.  Over the years, as she's grown more aware, we've been able to confirm that she can't seem to smell anything, only pretend to smell it.  Imagine that for a minute.  You can't smell bacon frying on a Saturday morning.  You can't smell the rain.  You can't smell coffee. You can't smell the most gorgeous flowers.   To me, smells trigger memories.  Smells transport me. Smells can make me gag.  Smells can make me swoon.  There are about three men's cologne's that make me giddy.  There are zero women's perfumes that delight me.  There are about five flowers that just remind me of an easier time, remind me of an uncomplicated life: Jasmine.  Lilies (mainly the China Star).  Roses.  Gardenia.  I love these scents.  Oranges, Lemon, peppermint essential oils... hello!  But Andi... she can't smell any of this.  She'll never smell pizza, butter... but the converse... she won't smell when the garbage is rotting, when her deodorant has failed, that her gym smells like a dirty belly-button.  (That was my attempt to not be foul, Dad!)  LOL!!!!  It fills me with extreme sadness that she will miss out on this incredibly important sense.  I base so much of my world on sense of smell, that, it breaks my heart that she won't have that.  

Mind you, where there are diminished senses, the others are heightened... so I find comfort that Andi will have a better sense of everything else, and then some.

But bacon... oh, for the love of the smell of bacon frying in a pan.  (Sorry my veg/vegan friends...) but bacon was one of three things that switched me back to being a full fledged carnivore.  

Andi will be fine... but I hope to adequately arm her with the tools and the words, to ward off snide comments by other kids - when she admits she can't actually smell what they're talking about.  The assholio who has her smell rotten food or expired milk while the rest of the group laugh.  I don't want that for her.  I know I can't be there every second of every day and shield her from the bullshit of life. But, I do know I can outfit her with her wit, wisdom and vocabulary to deflect and detour this undesirable reality of life.  

Most people go to the grocery store and don't have to ponder half of this shit.  Welcome to the glimpse of our reality.  And next time you "stop to smell the roses" fricken take an extra couple of minutes to really STOP, SMELL and SAVOIR that scent... something that Andi will never be able to do.  

Magical Mermaid

Recently, we bought a house.  When shopping for a house, we had one thing on our 'wish-list' for this house - and that was a pool.  In the south, it's hot much longer than between Memorial Day and Labor Day - so while the usual neighborhood pools are shutting down, we will still be able to utilize ours.  With this pool, came the 'must-do' that has been on our list for years -- teach Andi how to swim.  While she's had group lessons with an aide... which isolated her from the group, and one on one lessons at the neighborhood pool -- which often distracted her.  This time, we were insistent that she gets one on one swimming lessons in our own backyard, and we don't care what they cost.  (Actually, we do care, but... now we'd pay even more.)

Enter Gene.  Gene is an extremely special man.  He was in the Marines for 30+ years, and now teaches kids, especially special needs kids, how to swim.  It's his speciality, "to give them the magic."  He has this way of lighting up the room or backyard with his enthusiastic energy.  He captivates Andi with his stories, his encouragement, and his instruction.  This man is simply awesome, and Andi professed her love to him on the very first day.  She often does her excited clapping while listening to him speak.  She's concentrating, listening, and so excited to get going she simply can't sit still. 

The first lesson was really just an assessment.  Get to know Andi, let her get to know him, see where her skill set level is, and what her strengths and weaknesses are.  This collection of data enables  him to build her lesson plan, tailored to challenge her and turn her into a magical mermaid.

He comes 3 times a week, and that's mainly to guarantee that she will be a swimmer.  Andi really looks forward to her sessions, and they are definitely paying off.  Gene promises these lessons are going to strengthen her legs and her arms, considerably.  For a kid with low tone, and taking a break from physical therapy, gymnastics and ballet -- this is huge.  

Two weeks ago, Andi would not put her head in the water.  The only thing I've ever seen her do is blow bubbles in the water, and even that required encouragement.  During her assessment, her first "lesson" if you will, Gene had her putting her head under the water.  No joke.  I didn't put her ear plugs in though, as for that first lesson, I wanted her to really be able to hear him.  Boy, was that a mistake.  The water got trapped in her good ear, behind the ear tube keeping the ear open. She had to do wall stands (feet up on the wall, a supported handstand if you will), and shake her head to get the water to drain through the ear tube.  Apparently, she was rather uncomfortable until the water released from the ear.  I felt bad.  But now, she's wearing her ear plugs, and she's kicking butt on her lessons.  It seems she can actually hear him through the ear plugs too, which helps. I'm sure all the neighbors can hear too - but oh well.  The other day, he had her floating face-down in the pool while he counted 1-2-3-4... as she held her breathe.  It was totally amazing.  We couldn't believe it.  It makes me excited for each and every lesson so I can see what she's going to do next.  This is by far, the best money we've spent in a long, long time.  Even better than buying the house with the pool, is meeting "Gene, Gene the swimming lesson machine!"  *insert hearts of gratitude here!*

My assessment day ... first time putting my head underwater!

Practicing, by looking at the mat with all the ocean friends on it.  My favorite is the turtle.

Face down floating, looking at the mat with my turtle on the ground

We couldn't be more thrilled by the quick progress that Andi is making with her swimming lessons.  We also couldn't be more grateful to score this amazing instructor, Gene. I failed to mention that Gene also wears bilateral hearing aids and is fluent in sign language.  I mean, this guy is simply a gift. He promises, it won't be long until Andi is transformed into a magical mermaid.  The way things are going, I believe it.

The Heart Surgery Anniversary -- 8 Years

I started this blog August 10, 2010 as not just a way to inform Andi Bean's followers of the day-to-day updates when she was medically fragile, but also a way for me to process the daily grind of hospital living, specialists galore, and a life I never expected.  This is the time of the year where I truly stop and reflect on where we've been and where we are today.  It is with humbled gratitude, and honestly, heartache -- that I reflect on Andi's complex open heart surgery a mere 8 years ago (9/1/10).  Why heartache?!  My heart has broken a dozen times for friends we've recently lost, some that we have followed from the start. (Asher, Noah, Kane, Moriah... just to name a few.) It's been a hard, hard road - but it enables us to pause, reflect and appreciate all that we have survived.

At my every 2 years cardiology appointment, 2018

Looking back at the blog is honestly something I love to do.  I rarely make time to do it anymore, but when I do - I read an entry and it transports me right back to where I was, what we were experiencing and how it truly felt.  Some of my best writing was when we were confined in the hospital.  I had very little else to do. Although I was supposed to be working, people tended to leave me alone - knowing that I was facing every parents worst nightmare.  

Andi finally had her heart surgery, Complete A/V Canal,  (A Complete A/V Canal is a complex heart surgery that repaired a hole in an upper chamber, a hole in a lower chamber and made one large valve into two.) on 9/1/10, after a few weeks of reflux-induced (stomach, bladder) infections, and pneumonia.  She was such a mess in heart failure.  The diuretic Lasix (and sometimes a second, potassium-sparing  diuretic) would make her pee off excess fluid, so her heart wouldn't have to work so hard, but if she lost too much fluid, she'd dehydrate and have trouble breathing.  It was such a shit show of I don't know -- things like "we'll see," "it depends," and "Andi will let us know."  Like most medicine, it's a damn guessing game. A balancing act of chemicals.  Sad, but true.

Reading some of those early entries, makes me forget all the many things I should be doing (including getting Andi off her iPad and off to bed)... and transports me back to a time where we weren't sure we would even be together another day. 

Here are a few of my favorites:

http://amazingandi.blogspot.com/2010/08/kaiser-permanente-rent-baby-program.html

http://amazingandi.blogspot.com/2010/08/reflux-this.html

http://amazingandi.blogspot.com/2010/08/you-want-to-do-what.html

http://amazingandi.blogspot.com/2010/08/andi-story-charge-syndrome.html

http://amazingandi.blogspot.com/2010/08/heart-surgery-lesson.html

http://amazingandi.blogspot.com/2010/08/surrounded-by-family.html

http://amazingandi.blogspot.com/2010/08/bob-barker-magic-wand.html

http://amazingandi.blogspot.com/2010/08/thelma-louise-binky.html

https://amazingandi.blogspot.com/2010/09/bean-no-viagra.html

https://amazingandi.blogspot.com/2010/09/in-need-of-mulligan.html

Sadly, the photos of that time were lost.  I mean, I still have the photos, but they were deleted from some photo album account that fed this blog.  Honestly, I just haven't made time to plug those old photos into this blog.  Sort of low on the totem pole of life, ya know?  But the visual account of what her frailness looked like.  The sweats from the Lasix, the mouth goobers, the big ol' dark eyes on this lil' bitty head. 

It also doesn't surprise me to revisit the damn leaky g-tube.  I forgot that bitch (sorry, Dad... but honestly, it was a hell of a thorn all damn day long) started leaking way back then.  I think it was March of 2011 where her pediatrician had her admitted to figure out why she was dehydrating.  That, and to probably get me out of his office several times a week complaining about the leak.  When they pouched it (and they admitted it was not a great method of collecting data), but they determined she was leaking out 25-35% of each feed, sometimes up to 50%.  Uhm, yeah. The "solution" caused more problems in the end, and they had to surgically tuck her stomach lining back down the hole and close it up.  Uhm, yeah.  So, it's interesting to me to revisit these entries and transport myself back then.  I am guessing the entire medical community is thankful that they saw me then, and not who I am today.  My mouth and I probably wouldn't have allowed half of the guessing game bullshit she endured.  I found my voice as I got more entrenched in the life as a CHARGE parent.  But today's voice would be a version of an angry Madea who would probably get security called, repeatedly.  Again, it's a good thing for them.  Most of them are good people.  The g-tube surgeon though needs a rusty fork taken to his private parts.  Just sayin'.  See... I'm not as pleasing as I used to be... but then again, we survived all this shit.  We were lucky. 

Still humbled, still grateful.  I still think of Dr. Stephan Langley and his incredible team who performed our successful surgery.  I am sad that I no longer know where he is to send him a yearly heart surgery update, and I'll probably forget to put together an update card for her old cardiologist (Dr. Kelly) at OHSU, but damn, if we aren't totally grateful to all the many people who helped get her here.  (Minus of course the first (*&^$@&a$$clown) g-tube surgeon who I want to poke holes in.)  The second surgeon though, whose name honestly escapes me this minute, his work was perfection.

And furthermore, we move forward with our broken, one-mended heart, and keep our friends we've lost so close to those hearts.  None of us are guaranteed a tomorrow.  This life of ours, reminds us of that more often than yours likely does.  It is in their honor we hope to remind you, so you cherish your time by making it the best use of your time with us.  Grateful.  Humbled.  Love. 

Watching Moana while getting an echocardiogram.  I delighted the echo tech by yelling/screaming during a scary part of the movie.  She easily jumped a foot or two and then giggled when she realized what I was doing.

Flirting while getting my ECG.

Just to reiterate, the cardiology check-up showed her heart function is totally stable and better than deemed two years ago.  Her cardiologist is very happy with how she is doing.

Now, the CHARGE Syndrome Foundation has begun a new fundraising campaign. Andi's personal goal was somewhere around $8,000,000.00.  Given you apparently know Andi, have possibly read about how CHARGE Syndrome has affected her life, the good and the bad... I would ask that you consider clicking over to her fundraising page and throwing a few bucks toward "her" effort -- okay, mine.  If we raise $3k, we get a free admission to conference in Dallas next year.  Although, if we achieve that, I will likely donate it to someone that otherwise wouldn't be able to attend. 

https://www.classy.org/fundraiser/1595392


So as we celebrate our 8th heart surgery anniversary, I ask that you be mindful of your own wellness, be thankful and kind, and be extra generous by helping to kick Andi's fundraising campaign into gear.