[Verse 1]
Parasternal short axis, aortic valve in view,
Clock face on the septum, nine curling round to noon,
Perimembranous hiding where the tricuspid leaflet flirts,
Watch for a pouch ballooning, a windsock made of shirts,
Aneurysm tissue draping, closing what it can,
Prolapse creeping inward — trace the pixelated fan.
[Chorus]
Nine to twelve, that's perimembranous ground,
Twelve to two, the outlet's pulmonary sound,
Beneath the valves, the inlet keeps its low profound,
Muscular's a rover — sweep it, let the color drown
Every inch in echo, every shadow, every doubt,
Four types, four windows, that's what the probe's about.
[Verse 2]
Slide the beam up higher, twelve now bending into two,
Immediately under pulmonic cusps, that's the outlet's cue,
Subarterial whisper, so close it kisses aortic wall,
Cusp prolapse pulls downward, valve leaflets start to fall,
Long axis tells the story — regurgitation's spray,
Chase the aortic insufficiency, don't look away.
[Verse 3]
Apical four chamber, now drop your gaze below,
Inlet defect settles where the AV valves both flow,
Check the chordae tendineae — are they straddling the crest?
A ventricle that's committed, or one that's second-guessed?
Muscular's the trickster, hiding in trabeculae's maze,
Sweep the whole partition, count each jet through the haze.
[Chorus]
Nine to twelve, that's perimembranous ground,
Twelve to two, the outlet's pulmonary sound,
Beneath the valves, the inlet keeps its low profound,
Muscular's a rover — sweep it, let the color drown
Every inch in echo, every shadow, every doubt,
Four types, four windows, that's what the probe's about.
[Bridge]
Measure the hole against the aortic ring,
Small and loud's restrictive — high gradient's the thing,
Big and quiet, unrestrained, the pressures start to climb,
Watch LA and LV swell — dilation tells you it's time,
Estimate the RV, chase the PA squeeze,
Tricuspid jet velocity brought us to our knees... calculated with ease.
[Verse 4]
After the patch is stitched, don't pack the probe away,
Hunt the margin for a whisper, a leak that snuck away,
Color flow along the suture, gradient across the patch,
Check the valve you swept beside — did surgery leave a scratch?
Aortic cusp still coapting? Tricuspid chords still fine?
The echo tells the ending — read it line by line.
[Chorus]
Nine to twelve, that's perimembranous ground,
Twelve to two, the outlet's pulmonary sound,
Beneath the valves, the inlet keeps its low profound,
Muscular's a rover — sweep it, let the color drown
Every inch in echo, every shadow, every doubt,
Four types, four windows, that's what the probe's about.
[Outro]
Nine to twelve, twelve to two, beneath, and everywhere,
Sweep the septum slow and steady, the answer's always there.