I sit here stoic and beyond tired. I don’t even know which day of the week it is and when everything really began. My body has reached its limit. I’ve tried to make it through the day with yet another night of no sleep; praying for a calm in the large storm we have been encapsulated by.
Three days ago we went into Randall’s Children’s Hospital here in Portland, OR. My son was supposedly sick with pneumonia and an ear infection and had a fever for 4 days. Mind you, he is 21 months old and a fever that long is dangerous.
Walking around the house realizing I couldn’t master any tasks as the wee-little one only wanted to be held and rest his head upon my chest. My husband took the day off due to his mom passing and was trying to occupy his mind while doing yard work. Realizing the inconsistencies in my little man and the little fluid and food he had drank made me wonder if his diagnosis was accurate. Calling his pediatrician the advice nurse immediately sent us to the ER at the Children’s hospital. She asked if he was coughing while I explained that was him simply breathing; he had very labored breathing. This concern was so high off the charts that she didn’t want us to waste any time but to head directly there. Tears flowing from my eyes as I look at my sad, tired, helpless baby, I expressed great concern to my husband.
As we traveled to the hospital, his eyes struggled to stay open and not because he was trying not to sleep but simply because his sickness was taking him over. We reach the ER and all of a sudden 7 hours passed by and I’m wondering what just happened. It was so quick, yet so painfully long. The questions posing of what is happening, why is wouldn’t perk up, what’s wrong with his heart, why is his breathing so labored, does he have pneumonia or an ear infection? The questions swarmed around my husband and I as if we had just landed the worlds largest bee hive being stung in thousands of places.
The doctor brought to our attention that we would be staying over night and probably be here for a few days. The anxiety welled up inside my being filling every inch of my body. I see my son go through rounds of coughing that would lead him to stop breathing for what felt like minutes at a time. His eyes would water, face swell and the redness would turn to bright it almost turned blue. The fear was colored all over my face. Looking helpless at my husband we yearned for his next breath. He couldn’t inhale; he would begin the exhale of another coughing round only leading him to not inhale once again. Same routine, red face, watering eyes, and a helpless look that pour from his eyes begging for us to take it away. It was as if he could speak so clearly through his eyes leaving me feeling utterly helpless and broken.
The doctors hated that his breathing wasn’t picking up and searched for more answers than dehydration. Strangling his little mummy wrapped body the nurse fetched for a vain to place the IV and a board to tape to his arm to so he wouldn’t be able to rip it out. Now with the use of only one hand this poor child became more agitated. They pricked the same arm for 4 tubes of blood. They ordered an EKG and more blood work, vacuuming out his nose for more culture testing’s; the trauma simply wouldn’t end.
Finally they stopped the fluids as his progression only kept getting worse. The concern now was the fluid filling up around his heart and in his lungs. What does a mom and dad do when you see your helpless babe worthless and lifeless? Being a parent you long to make things better, change the circumstances, bring hope, comfort and security. All was lost. We were unable to provide this even though the deepest parts of our soul longed to run away from the hospital, detaching every tube and wire connected to his body keeping him held hostage.
The night progressed and only got worse. A mother’s nightmare kept proceeding to never wake me up but to only find myself further in the pit. We lay him to rest on our chests while bouncing him was the only thing he wanted. He clenched tightly to us wrapping his legs around as if he never wanted to be let go. The continuation of pricking and prodding never came to a stop. His tired body was beyond traumatized that sleep could not set in. He awoke an hour later to only begin his hallucinations. The scariest things I’ve ever experienced. It was an out of body experience. We would thrash around, falling, banging his head and chin upon the prison crib, writhing in pain with blood curdling screams. His eyes were open but he wasn’t conscious. It was as if he could not see or hear you. His eyes were lifeless. This event was the first of the night with many more to follow. It was beyond scary, nothing we could do, we couldn’t leave the room, unplug the cords, or simply let him know it was going to be okay.
He fell asleep for 30 minutes to be woken up by monitors beeping loudly. His oxygen had sunk, nurses and doctors all rush to his aid while we watch them attach oxygen tubes to his little face. Yet another wire for this poor baby. Unable to tell us why this has happened the concern only deepens. Within the hours the second bought of hallucinations came only to worsen immensely. I began a slight panic attack in the midst of not being able to calm him down, his IV ripped from his hands, blood tossed to and fro. My face covered with pools of blood. It looked like a murder scene. Paging the nurse, they came to finally allow all the wires to rest for a few minutes while I took him up and down the hall wearing a small child’s mask to keep from spreading whatever it was he had.
Attempting to eat a couple goldfish and drink a couple sips
At this point I begged them not to put the IV back in until morning and they obliged. Sending Michael home at three in the morning knowing I needed one of us to be sane as my sanity had already left hours prior. Looking at beautiful downtown Portland with all the lights, Cooper became a little more content, no wires, no IV, no oxygen and just his mommy to hold him dear. He drank a couple sips of apple juice and ate a couple of goldfish. This was a milestone. I let him sit there with me for two hours to simply get an ounce down of fluid and a little food to nourish his body. By 5:10 in the morning, I laid him by my side to rest. We slept until 7:25.
Michael called at 8 to check in. He brought coffee, clothes, toothbrush and the bare necessities. By 9 am another hallucination took place. My anger deepened as it only got worse. My son longing to leave this prison and not understanding why we were leaving him there and not protecting him was all unknown in his little mind. The unexplained feelings a parents battles when you know the hospital is the safest place for him, yet the continuation of traumatic events is a lose-lose situation.
Yet again begging for release we were able to walk him outside because his outbursts were so horrific nothing would calm him down and he began to endanger himself. We walked outside, his thoroughly exhausted body was helpless. Yearning to dump fluids in him knowing this was our only escape; he kept refusing. Finally, we approached the 6th floor yet again, a new doctor arrives explaining all this tests came back clear, his heart looks to be okay. Everything must be related to a severe viral infection, pneumonia and sever dehydration. We hoped this diagnosis was 100% accurate as leaving was a whole new realm of scary. We wanted out of this traumatic place, but we also wanted to leave knowing he would be okay.
Finally being released at 3pm, we head home with our exhausted, traumatized child. The questions filled my soul: “will he be okay, can I keep him hydrated, will his oxygen remain stable…?” These were all real questions with only time to tell.
This experience was so horrific that my only prayer was begging the Lord to allow him to live. I would never wish a parent to ever experience what we went through. I never thought I would pray “just keep him alive, please keep him alive!” for my child. The desperation that seeps in is a whirlwind of emotions.
Part II tomorrow on what the days preceding look like….
Moment of Truth: Reality his our family very hard this week. Losing my mother-in-law and coming close to losing my child. The horrific chain of events was beyond what we could ever imagine. Praying and continuing to pray that we can have a calm in the middle of the storm. Please Lord, let there be an end in sight.
(Read more about The Never-Ending-Roller-Coaster of life)
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