CT Scan Results



Scarlett had a CT scan performed on January 5th. They did a cardiac CT scan that included a lung perfusion study to determine the bloodflow from each pulmonary artery to the lungs. She did extremely well. No vomiting, no oxygen, no adverse reaction, no emergency room visits that night. I say that because of the horrible experience we had with her MRI back in August 2010. And her last CT scan had her discharged on supplemental oxygen. But this time she was a champ. That's my girl!

She had a follow-up cardiologist appointment a week later with Beth and Dr. Pophal on January 13th, where we got the results from the CT scan. I was sitting at my desk at work that morning reading over a piece of paper I had scribbled some notes on back in August the day of her botched MRI. The paper said that the cardiologists will be checking her weight for steady (though gradual) growth, monthly echos, likely a CT scan in the next 6 months with lung perfusion study, and possible cath if no improvement.

It was kind of a coincidence that I found and read that note on that particular morning. Because when I re-read it, I realized that that team of docs really knows what they're talking about... meaning, so far everything they've told me has basically come to pass. So when we took Scarlett in for the echo and clinic appt last Thursday I was sort of expecting them to say that she needs another cardiac catheterization....  and my expectations were met.

The CT scan revealed that the bloodflow to the LPA (left pulmonary artery) was at 27%, and anything below 30% is considered problematic (concerning). So what they want to do is take her to the "cath lab" and balloon angioplasty her LPA, just like they did 8 months ago, except this time they will also insert a stent to keep that artery open.

Normally, I probably would've started crying my little eyeballs off, but since I had just read that note I jotted down in August, I was anticipating this news. So instead of getting depressed and scared, I was very stoic and asked when they had to do this? Beth and Dr. Pophal said in the next month. And I said: as long as she's not in there for her birthday, I'm fine!

So, right now I'm waiting to hear back from Juanita (the surgery scheduler) to schedule her cath. I still haven't cried yet, but it will probably hit me later and I'll probably fall to pieces just like I always do whenever we have to put Scarlett under anesthesia.

Relief

19 pounds, 7 ounces, and no foreseeable surgeries for ~maybe~ up to a year!


I took Scarlett to the cardiologist today for an echocardiogram and a clinic appointment. It was such a great visit! I feel like the weight of the world has been lifted from my shoulders. For the last 7 months, I've been stressed, tearful off-and-on and practically in a depression regarding Scarlett's leaky heart valve (that Dr. Pophal told me was regurgitating after a mere 7 months after her last major open-heart surgery).

As you all know, I was told all along that Scarlett will need multiple open heart surgeries throughout her life to replace the pulmonary artery/valve that never formed in utero. I was also told that the way that they know that its time for her next surgery is that her valve will “spring a leak”. BUT TODAY I was told differently.

But allow me to digress about the constant fear, heartache, and stress I’ve been in ever since May this year. Ever since May, I've gone to bed with tears in my eyes thinking about Scarlett's future. I freak out at the slightest signs of illness thinking to myself "is she in heart failure??". We've gone through a heart cath (June) and a botched MRI (August) and at least 8 echos/clinic appointments just to keep a mindful watch on her Left Pulmonary Artery (LPA) and the pressure on her right ventricle (RV). So basically once a month, I have to take her in for echos and doc appts.

And let me tell you…. ECHOS SUCK!! Scarlett H A T E S them.

She cries, and cries, and cries. She struggles, and whimpers and just plain hates being prodded with the ultrasound probe. Plus, some ultrasound techs are better than others. I happen to LOVE Gary, and I won’t say anything *bad* about the other u/s techs, but let’s just say I make it a point to ask specifically for Gary.

Well, guess what-- Gary wasn’t there today… or the last time. Which makes my clinic appointments that much more stressful. Luckily today “Christopher” did a good job. And Scarlett did a great job as well. She was mostly accommodating and calm throughout the 40 minute procedure (ultrasound of her heart). [thank God!] She only got upset for the last 10 minutes or so.

I of course just have to look at the ultrasound screen of her tiny beating heart, and I get tears in my eyes. I hope and pray that it hasn’t gotten worse. I look at the red and blue blotches of bloodflow on the ultrasound monitor and I swallow the huge lump in my throat and wipe away the tears streaming down my cheeks as I wish that she didn’t have to go through this every single month. I just hope and hope that the leak hasn’t gotten worse and that she has more time before they cut her open again.

Well, my prayers worked. Everyone’s positive energy and thoughtful prayers worked. Beth (Scarlett’s cardiologist/nurse practitioner) said that the leak looks the same. Meaning: status quo. WOO HOO!. Yes! Thank God! Thank you, thank you, thank you!

Beth said that the leak is still moderate or even mild at this point and that the pressure on her right ventricle is the same. No change. (yessss!) This is so nice to hear. But she also said she wants to do a CT scan/lung perfusion study next month to get a better idea about the LPA regurgitation and the RV pressure. So we’re gonna schedule that procedure soon. Then came the best news of all…. (even though it is nothing “new”… it’s just new to me).

So Beth was patiently explaining Scarlett’s anatomy to Todd and me. She was showing us on the little plastic model of the human heart that they have in all their exam rooms. She was explaining what was happening (even tho we’ve heard it all before, it’s nice to hear again when our heads are clear), and what needs to be done about her leak, and what causes her leak and her pressure on her RV. Then she said it. “people with her defect will *always* have leaks and if anyone tells you differently they’re full of it”.


Whoa…

Repeat that last part. Yes, people with TOF/PA will ~always~ have a leak… it just depends on how bad of a leak it is.

Really?

I said “Why the hell didn’t someone tell me that TWO YEARS AGO!?~!” I said 2 years ago (November 18, 2010) when Dr. Alboliras and Dr. Nigro told me about her heart defect, they said that her homograft will start to leak and that’s how we know when it’s time (or near time) for her next surgery. So for the last 24 months, that’s what I’ve understood. That’s why I’ve been so upset/depressed/stressed/anxious, etc…

When she said that “she will always have a leak”, I felt a huge sigh of RELIEF. I thought She’s gonna be okay, stop stressing. Then Todd said “So, looks like she won’t be having surgery in February?”, and Beth says “Who told you that?!”, and we both say in unison: “Dr. Pophal”.. and she says “When did he tell you that?”, and we say “in August, he said: ‘she has at least another 6 months before we consider surgery’” So it’s been burned in our brains that she will have her next surgery in the first quarter of 2011.

NOT ANYMORE!!

The angioplasty that Dr. Pophal performed in June is helping! The Digoxin is helping! The leak is still there, the pressure is still there, but it is manageable. She is not in immediate danger. Beth said that the CT scan in January will give them a better idea of what the echocardiograms can’t. She said the way she is going now, she doesn’t see surgery in Scarlett’s future for at least another year (up to a year).

Todd and I were sooooooo relieved. You should literally feel the stress lifting from our shoulders as we were finally able to relax and breathe for the first time since we heard the word “leak” in May of this year.

So, I am happy to report that Scarlett is doing fantastic.

She is gradually gaining weight, still on her growth curve of negative 3rd percentile (not quite on the growth charts yet). She’s comfortably wearing size 12 months clothes and size 5 shoe. She nibbles on everything, but isn’t a huge eater, but neither is her sister. Still in a backwards facing carseat, but she doesn't seem to mind it since she has this adorable pink doggie mirror she can look into, thanks to one of my co-workers (Thanks Roxanne!)

 She is a happy, -healthy-, toddler who is learning new words everyday. She can now say “Thank”, for “thank you”, and “shoe”, and ‘I-don’t-want-it”, but it sounds like “I-doh-wanna!!” Her new favorite word is “NO!”, and of course “MINE!” But through it all, she is still the calmest, quietest, nicest, happy little baby that there ever was. Even tho her older sister is rubbing off on her and sometimes she gets a little attitude, she is still for the most part, just happy to be alive.

Today was a good day. I am going to bed thankful and happy.

2 Years Ago Today

I was sitting at my desk at work this morning, when I glanced over at the calendar and saw the date. November 18. It doesn't matter that it is November 18, 2010, because November 18th is all that matters.  November 18th. A day that will live in infamy. A date forever scarred in my heart, mind, memory and the day that changed my life forever. November 18, I get a lump in my throat and tears in my eyes just thinking about that horrible awful day.

What happened on November 18th?

It was a chilly autumn morning in Phoenix Arizona. Those days are usually hard to come by even by November 18th. I woke up, got dressed and headed for a fetal echocardiogram appointment that unfortunately for me, did not end how I thought it would.   I was so unsuspecting. I was so oblivious. I was so vulnerable. and I was so confident that nothing was going to go wrong. So sure of myself, that I went to the appointment all alone.

I thought to myself, everything is gonna be fine, they're finally gonna tell me once and for all that I'm just a worry-wart and my baby is fine. They're gonna tell me to stop worrying and stressing that something's wrong with my baby. They're gonna put all my suspicions to rest and everything is gonna be fine.

Boy was I wrong.

I arrived at the Scott and Laura Eller Congenital Heart Center in Phoenix Arizona at about 8:00 in the morning. First appointment of the day. I was bright eyes and busy tailed not knowing what the future held. I was 6 months pregnant and I had been diagnosed with a single umbilical artery. I had been told for approximately 2 months that everything looked fine. I was having the fetal echocardiogram done just so they could "shut me up". They were willing to do the echo based solely on the Single Umbilical Artery.

I should have known something was wrong when 4 differnt techs/docs/students came to assess the monitor on the ultrasound machine. Yet, I was still convinced that everything was okay with my baby. That I just needed to get this over with.  I was told the ultrasound would take an hour and a half. So I wasn't the least bit concerned when they popped in the DVD "Pirate's of the Carribbean". I watched 3/4ths of the movie before Dr. Alboliras walked in to complete the ultrasound.

I thought it was all routine. I thought nothing of the doctor being in the room. He asked me if anyone had told me that there was something wrong with my baby, and I answered him...no. He said "then why are you here today?", and I answered, "because I want to make doubly, triply sure that my baby's heart is okay because I have a single unbilical artery". He than asked "Are you alone today?", and I thought ~why the heck is he asking that question?~... and I answered "yes". I even breifly thought "WHY?... DO YOU HAVE BAD NEWS TO GIVE ME?", but I didn't voice that concern. I just said "Yeah", when he said "so there's no one  waiting for you in the lobby?"...so knowing I was all by myself, he just said "okay, we're done here, let's go into another room to go over the results"

I wiped the ultrasound goo off my pregnant belly. I grabbed my purse and coat, and walked into a consultation room around the corner. Then began the absolute worst experience ever. and I tear up just thinking about it and reliving it in my memory.

I took a seat. Dr. Alboliras told me "It's a good thing you came in today... because your baby has a complex congenital heart defect and will probably be born blue and will require surgery to allow blood to flow from her heart to her lungs".  I just sat there dumbfounded. Complete disbelief.  Huh? What did you just say?

Then he says how far along are you? and I say 26 weeks, and he says "yes, that's a little bit to far long to consider terminating the pregnancy"... and I'm a complete trainwreck. I was bawling my eyes out. Then I asked him to explain again what was wrong. I heard "big hole in her heart"... (in between Pulmonary Atresia, Tetralogy of Fallot, unoxygenated blood, blah, blah, blah...)... and I just fixated on "hole in the heart"... so between my tears, I said "This is common, right? This happens all the time?". and that's when my world came crashing down around me.  He says "No"...  

"This is extremely rare..."


and the rest is a black cloud blur of heartache, headache, and uncontrollable sobbing. All. Day. Long.

I couldn't even talk on the phone to tell Todd that something was wrong. I couldn't even get the words out I was crying so hard. I was absolutely devastated. I didn't even know that my nightmare was just beginning, and that it actually gets worse from here. I was just absolutely blown away by the news.... and I was all alone. No husband, no sister, no mother there to hug or console me. I was crazed with greif. I was hyperventilating. I was just so taken off guard. I never expected this to happen. I was unprepared.


Yes, November 18 is not a good day for me. It is a day that I look back on with sorrow. It was the day that mourned the loss of a healthy child. It was the day that I fantasized about a little baby, a little toddler, a little girl, a little teenager lying helpless in a hospital bed connected to tubes and wires fighting for her life. Alone and scared. Without her mommy. In pain. Suffering. Praying for survival. Praying for her heart.

I don't even know how I drove home that day. I cried for hours and hours. I don't think I ever stopped crying that day. It was just a complete blubber-fest.  I remember my best friend Kristy came over that night and hugged me and tried to make me feel better. I remember showing her the pictures that Dr. Alboliras drew for me. The picture of a normal heart, then the picture of Scarlett's heart.  I still have those pictures.

November 18. The day I guess I un-officially became a heartmom. A label I never thought I would embrace 2 years later. Yes, this is a day I will never forget as long as I live. I can't even go into that echocardiogram room without getting teary eyed. That's where my world came apart at the seams. That's where a team of 4 cardiologists diagnosed my baby in utero with a severe CHD. The sickest of the sick. The "high risk" CHDs.

 I can't belive how fast the time has flown. It's been two years already. But the pain associated with THAT DAY are still fresh in my mind as if it happened last week. I'm sure all heartmoms have similar stories and they may they also know the exact day that they found out about their child's heart defect. and the feeling of complete helplessness and hopelessness they felt at that precise moment. It is awful. You never forget.  Never.

So today I'm remembering 2 years ago. and I am thankful and grateful that I found out that day. I'm glad I knew what to expect. I'm glad I knew what I was in for. I'm glad that there was a team of doctors ready to care for Scarlett the moment she was born. I am humbled that modern medicine has allowed me to have that knowledge on November 18, 2008. Even tho I still consider it the worst day of my life. I am still grateful that I knew before she was born.

"Off Road"

Todd took the girls to the zoo on Monday. Some of the paths are paved, and some aren't. When he took the stroller off the paved path, he would say "Off Road!", to which Scarlett would reply "Ahhf Roh", which sounded extremely smilar to Off Road.

Last week, I was taking her picture and I was saying "Cheese!" as I pointed the camera at her, and she said "Cheese!".  Also last week, my mom was at my house and kept telling her "say grandma, say grandma", and Scarlett said "Grah-mah...grah-mah"  She's definitely repeating words and sounding more and more like a talking little toddler everyday. She can also say please, or her version of please which sounds like "peez".

It is absolutely precious how she wants to mimic and repeat everything she hears. I had to post about it. Todd said when they were at the zoo, he was acting like a monkey and making monkey noises, and Scarlett was right there making monkey noises with him and Violet. (I was at work and didn't get to go to the zoo with them).

I swear if you didn't know better, one would never know that she has a complex congenital heart defect. She is just a happy little carefree 1 1/2 year old.  Her next cardiologist appointment is scheduled for early December, which means she gets a 6 week break from echocardiograms. She does however still have to go the pediatrician for synagist shots because RSV season starts next month and she is still vulnerable to dire consequences if she contracts this disease (because of her leaky valve and the pressure on her right ventricle), so she has to go in for monthly RSV vaccination shots starting in November.

We have started her on Digoxin too. So far she gets .4ml twice a day. I don't know how much it's helping, but I'm hoping for some good weight gain in December... maybe we'll be having that 20lb pizza party?? Here's to wishful thinking!

One Year Ago Today

Today is the one-year anniversary of Scarlett’s second surgery.


One year ago today I handed my 7-month old daughter over to the surgical team at St. Joseph’s Hospital for a grueling, complicated, risky, complex and difficult 8 hour open-heart surgery.

I can hardly believe it’s been one year already. For someone who has a complex Congenital Heart Defect, and who’s endured 2 open-heart surgeries before age 1, Scarlett is doing fantastic. She is a happy, thriving, affectionate toddler who is closer and closer to talking everyday. I think she learns new words all the time, but I don’t understand her well enough to recognize that she’s saying “car” or “cat” or “ball”. She definitely has “baby” and “momma” down crystal clear.

Everything about Scarlett is petite. Her weight, her height, her smile, her giggle, even her temper. As any mom does, I am constantly comparing my daughters to each other. By the time Violet (my first born) was Scarlett’s age, she was the same size [evidentially I make small babies, heart condition or not], but she was 100% different…personality wise. At 18 months old, Violet was hyperactive, not only was she ultra energetic, but she was also exceptionally volatile: hitting, pinching, biting, kicking, throwing toys, slamming doors, and at a moments notice would pitch completely unpredictable temper tantrums that would make anyone want to reach for Jim Beam.

At the other end of the spectrum there’s Scarlett. Scarlett is calm. Happy. Affectionate. She is just the most quiet, tranquil, introverted, and peaceful little toddler’s you would ever meet. She has a normal/average amount of energy for a 19 month old especially when compared to her sister who runs around the kitchen island and jumps on furniture like she’s on speed.

Don’t get me wrong, Scarlett is enormously clingy and screams her little head off if anyone other than mommy or daddy try to hold her. She's been that way ever since the events of one year ago today.

One year ago today she was ripped from her safe and comfortable home to be thrown into an environment that was scary, awful, foreign and life altering. She was hurt. She was poked, proded, cut open and scarred for life literally and figuratively. She was never the same.

Before surgery (10-12-09), Scarlett didn't like binkys. After surgery she is a pacifer junkie. Everytime gets fussy, I pop a binky in her mouth and she's happy as a clam. She can't fall asleep without her binky. Everyone in my house knows that Scarlett loves her binkys.

 
She is also a cuddle bug. She loves hugging stuffed animals. Teddy Bears, kitty cats, even dolls she loves hugging and giving love to her dolls, she's super affectionate.
 
Before surgery, she was rather independent. As far as a 7 month old baby goes, but after surgery she suffered from separation anxiety...big time. She would fall to pieces if she wasn't in arms reach of Todd or me. and it is unheard of for anyone else to hold her. She wants her mommy and daddy. Only. It's ben one year already, and she is still shy of strangers (unlike her social butterfly 3 yr old sister). She has finally [after one year], let certain special people hold her like grandma or uncle Kevin, but for the most part, she only wants mommy, daddy or Aimee [her babysitter].
 
Yes, today is a milestone in Scarlett's book. She is doing well and thriving one year later. Notwithstanding the fact that she still has a moderate leak (regurgitation) in her homograft and now moderate pressure in her RV, she is alive and doing well. And one year later, I am grateful to the hospital staff at St. Joseph's for saving my baby's life.  It saddens me to think that we have to do it all over again in less than a year, but when I think of today (one year post-surgery), it gives me hope that she's gonna be okay. I believe in the power of positive thinking. She still has a long road ahead of her, but she has come all this way already and she's gonna make it out on top.  I love you Scarlett. You are and will always be my hero.

Apology

I have to apologize for my last post. I was venting on a public forum, and I did not mean to offend any other heartmoms or other mothers of sick/ill children. I was merely trying to express my dislike concerning mother’s of healthy children who complain and grumble about trivial things such as household chores for the baby (cleaning high chairs, doing laundry, changing diapers etc), planning birthday parties, or taking your child to the doctor for regular checkups/vaccinations.

 If these mothers only knew what they had [if they appreciated the gift they had] they wouldn’t complain so much. Because there are mothers out there who wish their child was alive to change their diapers, or to fold their laundry, or take them for their shots. It infuriates me that they could gripe about something so pointless and petty when they don’t realize how happy and thankful they should be that they have a healthy child (colds, infections and normal childhood illnesses aside).

 

I, in no way, meant that any heartmom’s journey is easy. And if I implied that, then I apologize profusely. No heartmom’s journey is easy by any stretch of the imagination. CHD is a lifelong process. And requires lifelong follow-up and care with a cardiologist for something they (the child) had no control over.

 

As a heartmom, yes, I do get jealous of other heartmoms whose children are fully repaired, but my jealousy is immediately quashed when I think what that baby had to endure to become fully repaired. I only say that I’m jealous, because I wish I had what they have (the meaning of jealousy)… a quasi-sense of normalcy. In other words, I wish my child only had to go in for echocardiograms/cardiologist check-ups quarterly instead of monthly.

 But I don’t think anyone has it better or easier than I do.

 Going in for cardiologist check-ups and not knowing if they will require another surgery is agonizing. Being a heartmom is extremely difficult. The day they tell you that your child has a CHD is one of the worst days in your entire life. We all know the feeling, of helplessness, hopelessness, confusion, fear, guilt, and sorrow.

 

And I try to live with an attitude of gratitude.

 I am happy and thankful for each and every minute I get to spend with Scarlett. I know that every day with her is a gift... so even when the pressures of everyday life get to me, I remember that it could be so much worse… she could be taken away from me… she could be a CHD angel.

 

So again, if I made anyone upset or mad with my last post please accept my sincere apology. I didn’t mean to be negative, and I certainly didn’t mean to disrespect, insult, affront or slight in any way any heartmoms, or mothers of children with true medical afflictions.

Heartmom Snob

I think I'm a snob. Because when I meet new parents who have healthly children who ~complain~ about the trials and tribulations of parenthood, I think to myself... you weakling.  I look down my nose at them condescendingly as if to say: You have no right whatsoever to complain about your child. You have no idea what it is like to watch your child be poked countlessly for IV placement, You have no idea what a real 'sleepless night' is because your child is in the ICU, You have no idea what it's like to feed your child through a tube, You have no idea what it's like to have a heartbaby. Stop complaining about your healthy baby.

Sometimes it makes me so angry to hear other moms complain. HOW DARE YOU complain about what a pain your child is? Do you have any idea what a miracle you have? Do you have any idea that there are mother's out there who will never get to celebrate their child's birthday because their child died as a result of complications from their heart defect? Do you have any clue whatsoever? 

How can you sit there and complain about changing diapers, or losing sleep because of a newborn, or that breastfeeding is 'too much work'. Try walking one day in my shoes. Try pumping exclusively for 13 months. Try inserting a nasal-gastric tube down your baby's nose, Try lugging around an oxygen tank, and a pulse-ox machine with you everywhere you take your baby. Try not being able to hold your baby for 12 hours after she's born because she's whisked away to the NICU.

Yes, I most definitely would have to say I'm a snob. Because I am. I do think I'm better than those mothers. I do think I have more patience. I do think I treasure life a lot more. I do think I count my blessings more than my prbblems. I do think I am grateful for the little things. More than the 'normal' parent.

They say the grass is always greener on the other side. Well, my grass is green. To someone else, I have the perfect life.  I especially think this with my other heartmom friends. To some heartmoms, my grass is greener. My child is not on any medications. My child is developmentally on track. My child is not on a feeding tube or oxygen. And most importantly, my child is alive.

But to other heartmoms, their grass is greener. I talk to some heartmoms and ask "Is your child considered totally repaired?", which means, "Does your child have to have any more surgeries?", and when they answer yes... meaning, no more surgeries, just annual or semi-annual cardiologist visits... I get a little jealous... (I think.. god, you're lucky)... and I get a little snobby (I think...p'sh, that's it? you're done?..no more worries?), but mostly I get a little sad that it's not fair that Scarlett is not done, and her journey has only begun. 

So to me, Heartmoms of babies with CHDs who are repaired early in life (TGA, TOF, VSD etc.) they have the lawn with the beautiful, plush, green and perfectly mowed grass that I envy, because my lawn has weeds, crab grass and ants.... But to moms of other more critical babies (HLHS, DORV, PA, etc), especially moms whose children also have chromosome abnormalities such as DiGeorge Syndrome, Smith Magenis Syndrome, Shone's Syndrome, or Down Syndrome... I have the perfect green lawn that is to be envied.

My daughter is walking, running, climbing, eating on her own, sleeping on her own, babbling and acting "normal". What they wouldn't give for some normalcy. A life for their toddler free from g-tubes, oxygen, vomiting, infections, and hospitalization. What about those mothers of children who need[ed] whole new hearts? Imagine the torture, pain and anxiety of knowing your child is in heart failure and nothing will save them except a new heart? Just imagine that stress.

Makes you want to count your blessings. and stop bemoaning the small stuff. Which brings me to the title of my post. Snob. Yes, I'm a snob. I know it's probably not right, but Yes, I do think a little less of people who can whine about the stresses of being a mother... when they have no idea what real stress is.  Last week, I heard someone say something about being stressed (caused by their baby)... and I said "Why, are they in the hospital?  to which they replied "no", and I said "Is everything okay? Do they have to have surgery?"  again I heard "no"... so I said "Then what the h*ll is so stressful?", because to me, everything else is trivial. Having your 8-day-old's chest cut open to save their life... THAT's stressful.  Handing your 7 month old baby over to the surgical team for a 7-hour, complicated second open-heart surgery...THAT's stressful.  

Measuring out syringes and feeding your baby through a tube and worrying about them pulling out their feeding tube? THAT'S stressful.  Worrying that your child might pull out their oxygen nasal cannula overnight and their oxygen saturation levels will take a dip and jumping everytime the pulse-ox alarm goes off?  THAT's stressful.

So compared to THAT, What do these people consider stressful? Because to me, it's not. It's just spoiled, selfish people complaining that they didn't get enought beauty rest. It's just ungrateful people [who probably shouldn't have had children in the first place] acting immature. Do I think I'm better than these people? You bet your sweet patotie I do. I treasure my children. I don't sweat the small stuff. I don't allow minor things to stress me out. and I always count my blessings not my problems. Life is to fragile, precious and SHORT to be negative and complain and to be jealous that the grass is always greener. Live for today. Live in the now, and always have an attitude of gratitude.