I've come to realize that as much as I love writing, it's not something that I am capable of doing as a hobby, much less a career. Instead, it is my release when trying to verbalize my thoughts is not enough.
Thursday was hell. At work, if it could have went wrong, it did. I was in one terrible mood at the end of the day, and when I was finally off the clock I remember wanting nothing more than to just hang out with my little guy and my husband.
We decided that we would go and have some dinner with my grandparents. We hadn't gotten to see them much over the previous week, and their house is a place that we love to spend time.
While I was getting supper ready to eat, Sam walked in the kitchen and asked for some water. I noticed then that he looked very, very tired. Droopy eyes, and his color was off. I suspected that he was possibly overly tired, and would be wanting to sleep soon after eating.
As we ate, he cuddled next to me on the couch. He was not interested in his food at all, so he sat with me, watching videos on his iPad. I reached to move his hair out of his face, one of my favorite things to do when he is near me, and realized that his whole body was hot.
All the typical mom thoughts made their way through my brain.
Ugh, he's sick.
Well, lets take that temp.
Tylenol?
Gosh, do I need to go ahead and get a sub for tomorrow?
I wonder what is causing it?
When I checked his temperature, it was 99.1. Typically not a cause for immediate concern. Jared sat across the room from me as he, my grandparents, and I talked about what could be the culprit for his fever and about going ahead and getting him something to take for his fever.
We discussed these things for mere minutes.
My Granny noticed that Samuel had begun to fall asleep. That was my first red flag. If you have spent any significant time around my child lately, you will know that when he is watching his iPad, he is wholly focused. He NEVER falls asleep in front of it ( in fact, he cannot even fall asleep with the TV on). I reached around him and hit pause on the video he was watching. Nothing. Even when half asleep, this should have sent him into a fit. Jared crossed the room and at my insistence picked him up.
The second that Jared picked him up off the couch, Sam began to slip into a seizure. I demanded that Jared give him back to me.
What is it about that need to have your hands on your child? That gut feeling that if you can just touch them, you won't both go flying off the earth.
For a moment, he shook in my arms. I tried to take a deep breath and remind myself what the doctors told me the last time that Sam had a febrile seizure. Keep him safe, monitor how long it lasted.
I fought down panic, rising in my throat, and watched as his eyes lost focus, and no longer saw me. His brow furrowed like it does when he us displeased with something. His entire body jerked in my arms, and then went rigged. Jerk, stiff, jerk, stiff. Looking back, this probably lasted about a minute.
Then it changed. His body became limper, still jerking, and he began salivating uncontrollably. The best I can tell, he must have aspirated some of this, because it was then he began to struggle. The noise he made was somewhere in-between a hiccup and choking, and my mind went into a tailspin.
All of a sudden, I couldn't tell if he was getting air properly. And I lost my cool.
During all this, Jared was trying to reach someone through 911 to have an ambulance come to us. After getting no where with them, we made for the Jeep.
Possibly the greatest blessing is that we had decided to have dinner with my grandparents. They live only about 5 minutes from Murray Medical center. Although, I believe the records would show that we made there in under 2.
The entire time, my child lay in my arms, unresponsive, and shaking. Finally, about halfway through the ride, he took one large breath. And then another.
The seizure was loosening its hold, and when we made it into the Emergency Room parking lot, he was still unresponsive, but the shaking had stopped.
In the melee, I realized then that I had ran out of the house, leaving my shoes behind. Hospital floors gross me out to no end, but I would have walked the entire place barefoot to fix what was wrong with my child.
In our time there, I held my baby's legs as they attempted to insert an IV, finally accomplishing it on the third try. And I rejoiced at his screams and tears, because even though they cut me like glass, it meant that he was, even on a basic level, okay. The nurses and I laughed and screamed yay when he promptly wet the bed.
I was ushered out of the room while they took a chest X-ray, to rule out any respiratory problems.
After settling him in my arms, he finally began to come around. He was entering what they called the Postictal state. Lethargic, confused, he pulled at his IV and cannula, but only for a minute. Blessedly, he was content to lay in my arms, and turned his head to look when he heard another one of his family members had entered the room to see him.
We learned then that after blood work, we would be transferred to Hamilton to be checked at a higher level of care. Learning that he was going to ride in an ambulance perked him up considerably. When the paramedics wheeled in the gurney to load him up, he made sure they knew to "buckle first". He was very impressed with the ambulance, although the ride got the best of him and he drifted off to sleep.
Upon reaching Hamilton and seeing a doctor, it was determined that he had, in fact, had another febrile seizure, and that the fever was likely caused by an ear infection. We would be receiving some medicine and then would be heading home soon.
Between these things, there was time. Mostly, I spent it with my eyes closed, holding my sleeping boy, but not sleeping myself. If nothing else, I needed to keep my mind blank, to keep the image of my shaking child out of my head as much as possible. Of how his eyes had never been a purer shade of blue than in those moments.
Instead, I chuckled gently at how every time the nurses and I had to move him someone would inevitably say, "my goodness, you have a big boy!". Or how while laying in my lap, he, with a precious sigh, peed all over me and the bed.
When, after asking to be held by his daddy, I went to use the bathroom myself, I wore my urine stained pants like a badge. Funny, the things you celebrate, the things you put aside, when other things take precedence.
Soon enough, we were driving home, exhausted, unbelieving that this could have happened to us again. But mostly just thankful. That we got handed a get out of jail free card, we got to take our boy home, practically unscathed.
We are anxious, worried, jumping at every noise and unfamiliar motion.
Sam has a renewed obsession with ambulances and a new hatred for "band aids" thanks to the sticky pads we had to peel off of his chest and belly.
And now it would seem that we are in the clear. No fever for a day or so now. And our sweet boy is back to his normal, lively self.
We could never say thank you enough to everyone who whispered a prayer for Sam. I felt them. And they worked.
Soon, we will be seeing a neurologist, to have an EEG as a precaution. Our family asks that you keep us in mind as we begin to gain some clarity, and pray for a healthy report.
I have to say, that the condition we think we are dealing with is a minor one, and while it is terrifying to experience, it could very well be that Sam will be just fine in the long run, and will eventually grow out of this.
To every parent who has to watch their child suffer because of an uncontrollable, unfair, and unforgiving illness or medical condition, I know that I have only experienced a slice of your pain. I try to be thankful daily for my healthy boy, but times like this really serve to hi-light how particularly blessed we are.
Love,
HLP
