A Thank You
My mom told me several days ago that the man who realized something wasn't quite right with me when I was a baby had passed away. His name was Dr. Gillick. While I of course don't know him at all, or wouldn't even recognize him, I thank God that our paths crossed those many years ago. If it were not for him, my condition may not have been discovered until quite some time later, and who knows what that would have led to.
I guess when my mom took me to my first set of shots when I was baby, at a free clinic, Dr. Gillick heard something off with my heart. So my mom took me to my regular pediatrician at the time, and he said there was nothing wrong. At my second set of shots, at the same free clinic, Dr. Gillick once again said there is definitely something wrong. So my mom took me to a different pediatrician, who immediately told my parents to take me up to Children's Hospital in Buffalo to see a cardiologist there.
My parents arrived in the busy waiting room full of people for my appointment. It was only moments later after they signed in that a group of doctors all came rushing out to see what was wrong with me, leaving a room full of bewildered parents and patients wondering why I was going before them. They said I was a "blue baby," my lips and fingertips and the tips of my toes were purplish in color, and they knew it had to do with my heart. Several tests later in the next couple months showed that I had atrioventricular canal (AV canal = 2 holes in my heart), and pulmonary hypertension (PH = a rare lung condition). They told my parents there wasn't anything they could do, and they weren't even sure how long I'd live. Maybe a year? Maybe 50? They even told them to consider having another baby soon, that's how unsure they were about my condition.
Thirty-one years later, I am still alive and kicking. Well, mostly kicking. I still have my days when I feel really bad or extremely tired. But for the most part, I've been doing much better since being on treatment. So I thank the Good Lord that Dr. Gillick was in the right place at the right time. May he know how much I truly appreciate him in discovering something wrong with me, and may he rest in peace.
I guess when my mom took me to my first set of shots when I was baby, at a free clinic, Dr. Gillick heard something off with my heart. So my mom took me to my regular pediatrician at the time, and he said there was nothing wrong. At my second set of shots, at the same free clinic, Dr. Gillick once again said there is definitely something wrong. So my mom took me to a different pediatrician, who immediately told my parents to take me up to Children's Hospital in Buffalo to see a cardiologist there.
My parents arrived in the busy waiting room full of people for my appointment. It was only moments later after they signed in that a group of doctors all came rushing out to see what was wrong with me, leaving a room full of bewildered parents and patients wondering why I was going before them. They said I was a "blue baby," my lips and fingertips and the tips of my toes were purplish in color, and they knew it had to do with my heart. Several tests later in the next couple months showed that I had atrioventricular canal (AV canal = 2 holes in my heart), and pulmonary hypertension (PH = a rare lung condition). They told my parents there wasn't anything they could do, and they weren't even sure how long I'd live. Maybe a year? Maybe 50? They even told them to consider having another baby soon, that's how unsure they were about my condition.
Thirty-one years later, I am still alive and kicking. Well, mostly kicking. I still have my days when I feel really bad or extremely tired. But for the most part, I've been doing much better since being on treatment. So I thank the Good Lord that Dr. Gillick was in the right place at the right time. May he know how much I truly appreciate him in discovering something wrong with me, and may he rest in peace.
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