So we thought we were out of the woods. Four weeks later Atticus seemed to be struggling for breath. He was panting and grunting and his chest was pulling right in under his rib cage.
As a complete novice with this kind of thing I took him to the Doctor. He is just a noisy breather. I took him home and carried on, but deep down I had a knot in my stomach that something wasn’t right. He was genuinely struggling for air and he was panting like a man who had run a marathon. And all he did was sleep. Day and night. He was exhausted and pale, and didn’t feed well at all. And he lost weight quickly.
So battle number one began. I called the surgery, they called us in for an emergency appointment, with a Locum. It was the best thing that ever happened. The Locum had seen this before with another infant. And he used the term LARYNGOMALACIA.
Straight up to A and E we went again. This time to a different one. This time we were taken in immediately and more tests. Chest Xrays to see if he had an infection and to see if that was the cause of why he couldn’t catch his breath.
Within two hours of being there the Consultant had written an urgent letter and faxed it off to the London Hospital which eventually went on to save my Son’s life.
two weeks later Atticus was in hospital having an emergency scope to diagnosis the condition. A little numbed nose, and a long camera scope down it. An low and behold. Laryngomalacia and an emergency appointment with our now very kind and wonderful ENT consultant.
This is the photo I took just before the procedure. He was so so tiny, and so brave. I wasn’t. I tried to hold him while they scoped but I shook uncontrollably and cried and panicked. The kind doctors and nurses then held him for me. His ENT consultant still remembers that day like it was yesterday. And so do I, but for very different reasons x
a few weeks later we had our second appointment to see her. She explained and confirmed the diagnosis and it was decided that we would see how he progressed and if his airways would get stronger as he got older.
It was now time to play the waiting game.
So six months went by and his breathing was continuing to be strained and he wasn’t gaining the weight he should have. He dropped down the growth centiles and then something pivotal happened.
It was January 2016 and I had a call from Grandma. She told me not to panic but to meet her as Atticus needed to go to hospital. We went together, shared the journey and talked. Atticus had gone blue and she had had to resuscitate him.
At hospital he was given a steroid in his throat and observed, but by the time the Doctors had seen him he was back to his normal chirpy (but breathless) self.
We went home and I contacted ENT at the London Hospital and we had an emergency appointment booked within days. Due to the recent events, we were told that it was important that surgery took place, and that we were to wait until the cough and cold season was over for them to book him in and admit him.
Atticus was prone to coughs and colds and picked up upper respiratory tract infections like we would a bar of chocolate.
Cold season came and went, and we were booked in for surgery on the 30th June 2016.