A Sidse Powell Blog

Waiting, worried and trying not to panic

In Children on January 8, 2010 at 8:07 am

January 4th, 2010

Squeak squeak – squeak squeak – squeak squeak – squeak squeak.

The wipers streaking and squeaking across my dry windshield.  It’s not raining anymore.  But, I don’t notice yet.  The ambulance beside me carry’s my son.  What should I do?  I have the length of one light to the next to decide.  Shit.

It started this morning.  “My throat hurts mom,” he said.  Only slightly swollen and still pink with no fever, so off to school  he went.  I surmised it as a last ditch effort to stretch his long holiday break even longer. But late in the day, a phone call from school and a temp of 99.3 proved me wrong.  I was an hour away.  When I reached him his fever was 103.4.  They rechecked.  103.6.  5 minutes down the street to the urgent care and it was 104.4.  Rising fast – every minute counts.  They ran tests.  Quickly.  Negative strep, negative flu.  They check again.  Still negative.  His head hurts, his spine hurts.  The doctor orders the ambulance.

I notice it’s not raining.  Shit.  I turn off my wipers.  What should I do? I don’t want to cry. I whisper to the ambulance, to Dominic, “I love you baby.” What am I going to do? Shall I stop in a minute – for just a minute or two – or stay on course and follow the ambulance?  My hearts running away, beating fast ahead of  me.  I breath in.  I breath out.  I’m supposed to do that.  Breath.  It’s going to be okay. It’s going to.  I know it.  I can feel it. But still I’m worried.

The paramedics told me.  He will be fine.  I can stop if I need to.  Meet them at the hospital.  The hospital will figure out what’s going on.  I can stop.  To keep my other child safe.  To pass along her car seat. My brother will pick her up.  It will only take a minute, it’s okay.  But I don’t want him to be alone.  To arrive in the hospital and left in a room until I find him.  But she needs to travel safe.  Shit.

I turn away from the ambulance.  I grab the car seat out of the car.  I see his car. He’s waiting to turn.  Damn traffic.  I wish he’d drive faster.  He wants to exchange things with me.  I want to get back on the road.   We go inside.  She’s happy to see her uncle. “Where’s Dominic?” she says.  “He’s going to the hospital, he’s sick.  Isaac is taking you to get dinner, then you’ll come to the hospital to see Dominic.”  I hug her.  I ask him to bring me food, anything, it doesn’t matter.

Nothing matters now but getting to the hospital.  Making sure they help him.  Getting to him so he isn’t alone.  I call my sweet daughter, my eldest, my friend and my contact for medical advice.  An ICU nurse.  “Are you okay Mom?”.  I want to say yes, that I am handling it well.  That I’m not scared that my nine year old son is alone and riding in an ambulance with a rising temperature.  “No,” it’s true, but I don’t want to cry, afraid that would be giving in to my worst fears.  I want to stay focused, for Dominic and for my sanity, “tell  me about meningitis.”

The paramedics are leaving when I arrive.  I can’t see him anywhere.  Construction everywhere – remodeling -upgrading.  Where is someone, anyone to help me find my son?  I search myself.  I don’t see him.  I’m impatient.  He’s alone.

Follow me.

I find him.  A nurse is helping him.  He has on a blood pressure cuff and oxygen monitor thingy.  I hug him, ask him about the ride.  Then we wait.

“Are they ordering the spinal tap? The doctor was on the the phone to the ER doc.  That’s why they sent him in an ambulance.”

“Someone will be with you soon”

His eyes stay closed most of the time.  He rests.  He’s tired.  I lay my head down on the bed next to him.  I pray.  What can I do?  “Wait.”

The medicine starts working.  His fever begins to come down.

My brother arrives with my daughter. He brought me chicken McNuggets, fries and a drink.  But they’re in the car.  He wasn’t sure about bringing food in.  They stay in the car.  We stay in the hospital.
She’s worried about her brother and a tad jealous of all the attention.  She tells us she wishes she was sick too.   “You don’t want to be like this Samaia, this is the worst I’ve ever been.”

The ER doctor comes.  He looks at him.  Watches him move and talk to his sister.  “We don’t need to order a spinal tap.  It’s not meningitis.”

I look at him. Watch him and he watches Dominic. He’s tall, grey haired, older, experienced.  He’s seen meningitis before and this isn’t it. “He’s moving his neck too freely.”  I’m comforted.

But what is it?  More tests.

A vending machine that doesn’t take my five dollar bill.  Only credit cards, one dollar bills and coins.  Exactly NOT what I have.  Shit.

I must leave ER room to send texts and update family.  I return.  The room is empty.  My son is gone.  But so is my brother, gone to accompany him for his chest xray.

X-ray is clear.  No pneumonia.

His first IV.  His sister watches.  She’s nervous for him.  He’s brave.  It hurts!  He doesn’t breath.  Four vials of blood plus a syringe full.  A bag of IV fluid.

Then a nurse requests, “Can you pee for us?” He doesn’t have much strength.   I stay to help. Everyone else leaves.  First time peeing into a container.  Can he do it?  YES!  He pees and pees and pees. “Oh my gosh, STOP!”  The jug and his body are at the wrong angle. A few more drips and we’ll have a tidal of pee pouring back out of the jug onto Dominic.  I move the jug.  He stops a few seconds later.  No one is spared. We laugh and laugh!  Whoops. Clean up.  Wash up.

The doctor returns.  He looks at Dominic.  He checks his abdomen.  Negative for appendicitis.  Negative for strep again.  Negative, negative, negative.  He tells me, “What that means is we’re in a holding pattern.”

Isaac heads home.  “Thank you!”  Grandma takes Samaia to my home, “Thank you!”

We wait.  The IV drips.  He sleeps.  His fever goes down.  We wait.  But there will be no answers tonight.

Click click click click click click click click.  The IV drip is wide open, pouring fluids into my son as fast as the tube will allow.  We’re going home. It’s 10 hours later.  His fever is under control.  We don’t know why his body reacted or what it’s reacting to.  But there is nothing more they can do.  We’re going home.

We’re going home.

I’m tired.  It’s 1:30am.

“I’m hungry mom!”

“That’s great sweetie, that’s great!”

Post note: Thanks to all my family and friends for your support and prayers!  We found out yesterday (two days later) it was a primary infection from the cold sore virus which can cause spikes in temperature just like Dominic experienced. This primary infection of the herpes simplex virus (HSV) is also called gingivostomatitis.  Two days later he got red sore spots on his tongue and throat.   It is highly contagious as most of the population carries this virus. His pediatrician said 90% of children have it by the time they’re 20.  Samaia got a fever today ):

Here’s a link at Babycenter for more information: http://www.babycenter.com/0_gingivostomatitis_1383863.bc?page=1

The Price of Time

In Ruminations on May 22, 2008 at 10:18 pm

The cost of a thing is the amount of what I call life which is required to be exchanged for it, immediately or in the long run. – Henry David Thoreau

I’ve been thinking about the cost of things lately – specifically, the cost of time. We all talk about spending our time, but do we really realize that we are…spending our time? Are we spending it the way we really want to? Who are we spending it on? How much of our time do we give to ourselves? To our dreams?

It’s worth pondering, since it’s something we can never buy back.

Each of us are alloted a specific amount of time, the problem is none of us knows how much time we have…and living day after day, year after year sometimes it feels like we have an unlimited supply. You know those moments that feel like they’ll never end. They do. All moments end.

Time is a very special gift from God; so precious that it is only given to us moment by moment. – Amelia Barr

We all learn something about money, but little of us ever learn much about time. Sure we may hear or say things like time is money or that was time well spent or you’re wasting your time. But do we really think about time as the amount of life we are spending?

Life is a temporary situation.

On the upside, it’s possible that I have more than half of the time of my life left to spend. On the flipside – well, let’s say that possibility got me asking some pertinent questions.

How am I spending my time vs. how do I want to spend my time? Who am I spending it on? Am I giving myself enough time? Am I spending time on my dreams? Am I giving my children the best part of me when I spend my time with them? How much of my time is spent in my head – thinking? How much of my time do I give freely to others? Am I making a difference with my time? Do I care about my time? Am I paying a high price for my time? Because the price is my life. What are the true costs of things? How much of my life is spent on collecting and maintaining things? How much energy goes into my time? Okay, okay, I’m going to stop now…

I often get caught up in the doing of life rather than the living of it. So, I wanted a reminder. I wanted to contemplate this time/life/cost scenario, then get out of my head and into my life. Here’s my little reminder of what I’m ‘up to’ or what I’m ‘aspiring to’ as I spend the time of my life.

I’m going to fill it with wonder and awe. My favorite places to find wonder and awe are in nature, with animals, babies, children and in all forms of art.  Kids are unique in this list because they can talk and everything to them is amazing and cool. They want to know how things work, they ask the best questions and say the silliest things. Wonder and awe are found in these things because they are present or were created in the moment.  So, if you’re looking for wonder and awe – you can’t be wandering about in your head ruminating about the past or planning the illusion of your future. You have to be here – NOW. And then – wonder and awe are everywhere.

I’m also spending it on things that give it meaning. Seeking things that enrich it. Things inspire me. That make me love and fill my breath. Things that feed my mind, widen my smile, push me to risk and teach me to be vulnerable. Things that extend hope, overflow my heart, nourish my generosity and give birth to more dreams. For anything that provokes me to laughter and convinces me -I can. And lastly, for all things that plead to be created.

I’m aspiring to all these things, because when I’m done spending my time, I want to have experienced my life.

So, now what? Now that I understand that time is precious and I never want to waste a single moment? Now, well…it’s late, and I’m going to go spend my precious moments doing one of my favorite things — dreaming.

Samaia’s first prayers

In Through the eyes of a child on May 21, 2008 at 2:20 am

At night I’ll ask the kids if they want to pray or not – sometimes they do and sometimes they don’t.

9/1/05 – 2 years old: Samaia’s first prayer was her squinting her eyes, mumbling some unidentifiable words and then saying, “GO”

Another of Samaia’s favorite prayers – to make me laugh – goes like this -

“Thank you a this God, Amen – that was an empty prayer”

8/23/06 – 3 years old: Her first long prayer went on and on and on … here’s what I could remember that night…

God, I love my mom and my Babick (how she pronounced Dominic) and my Babick happy and I love my toys and I love my pink shoes and I love my Babick and I love my barbies and my mom said 2 dollars (this was for new dress up shoes from her $2 allowance) and I love my pink shoes and my Babick cranky and I love pink and I love my friends a lot and I love my kitties a lot and I love my Babick and my toys and I love my Daddy and I love my friends a lot and I love Jessica and I love barbies and I love pink and I love shoes and I love horses and I love my Babick and I love my room and I love my kitties a lot and I love my friends a lot and I love my Babick and I love my room and I love my shoes and I love pink and i love my dresses and I love horses and i love pink. Amen.