I prematurely celebrated the end of another round of illness/drama in our family this weekend. Not terribly long after I finished my last post, you started having a strange spasm. Then a few hours later, you had another one, and I realized it looked quite a bit like a seizure. Except you were awake, alert, and screaming your sweet little head off.
And your fever spiked back up. And your breathing was fast and shallow. So, I packed you up and ran you over to the small ER behind our neighborhood (they know us well by now). I didn't explain the seizures well, because they were kind of like a muscle spasm, it was as if they hurt you. The doctor wasn't as concerned about that as he was your breathing.
So you got two shots in the leg and a breathing treatment. And a date with the doctor the next morning, because he was afraid you might need to be admitted to the hospital . Overnight you had 2 more screaming seizures, and your breathing didn't improve. As I prepared to bring you to the doctor you had another seizure, and I knew we couldn't avoid the hospital.
Our doctor was a fantastic advocate for you and I. He got in touch with the pediatric neurosurgeon at Children's Hospital who wanted you in the hospital immediately. She wanted you transported by ambulance and the doctor told her that you were stable and I was perfectly capable of getting you there safely. And he was right. I called daddy and told him to pack a bag and get G-Man ready to go.
G-Man was still running a fever, so he and daddy couldn't come up with us at first. All of your initial curiosity was destroyed when the nurses put in the started for IV. Then they bribed you with a truck and crayons and we were good to go. You had another seizure while the pediatrician was there, and I was grateful that if it had to happen, at least she got to see it. She felt certain it was a febrile seizure, but since you had more than 1 (try 8) in a 24 hour period, they were considered complex.
They prescribed you seizure medication. You were exhausted, but intent on finishing your chicken nuggets. The medicine didn't agree with you, because you were easily agitated and threw fits I have only read about. You were not my sweet little dude. And how could you be? You were sick, exhausted, and scared, and people kept prodding at you.
Daddy and G_Man left to stay with Grandma and Pop, so Mommy knew they were okay, and she could concentrate on you. As the seizure medicine wore off, you became more like yourself. We enjoyed looking out the tenth floor window and the cars whizzing by on the highway, and the birds flying high in the sky.
Overnight you started to have a hard time breathing. The nurses had to suction out mucous and put you on oxygen. You were not thrilled, but within a few minutes, your little body stopped fighting so hard to breathe and you could sleep comfortably.
You never get sleep in a hospital, as was evident by the 8am wake-up call from the lab technician. She woke you from sound sleep by taking blood out of your arm. It took every ounce of what little energy Mommy had not to blow a gasket and yell at the woman who had destroyed the most rest you had in nights. At some point you pulled the IV start from your arm, and the nasal cannula irritated you.
You met the neurologist who said we would need to take you in for an MRI and EEG in a few weeks to make sure there is no underlying cause for your seizures. You also met the attending neurologist whose name I don't remember, but it sounded like yarmulke. Even cranky and tired you managed to charm all of the nurses and doctors, who thought you were the sweetest little boy.
Honey, mommy is so very proud of you. You are a fighter, you are strong, you are resilient. You knew to cry right before the seizures and that Mommy would be right there. You clung to her closely, knowing she would never leave your side. You managed to smile, laugh, and flirt with the cute nurses, just like the charmer you are. You bravely handled all of the stress and scariness of the hospital and made it through with smiles.
I am amazed by you.