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A Night Away From Home

February 11, 2011 By

They should sell T-shirts that say, “I survived my child’s first overnight stay in a hospital.”  Or they should give out badges, like they do in Girl Scouts. Because let me tell you, it is quite an accomplishment. Just one night in the hospital with my son left me feeling jagged and raw. While I was sitting there yesterday afternoon wondering when I would be able to grab a sandwich and a cup of coffee, I sent a message to my friend Amy, expressing my pure admiration for the fact that she did this in a far more serious situation, day in and day out, for five months.

It all started when James started tossing his cookies at the daycare on Monday. For a full 24 hours he was throwing up and having attacks of diarrhea, and even when they kind-of-sort-of passed, he didn’t get better. By the time I got home from work on Wednesday evening, he was still not eating or drinking, and he was crying out from the pains in his tummy.

Recognizing that most kids’ tummy bugs are over and done with in a day or so, and we were now at the end of Day Three, I took James to the walk-in clinic (no family doctor – ours had the gall to retire, citing stuff like “time with family”). The doctor at the clinic examined James for five minutes and decided he wanted none of it. He told me to get James to the hospital. “Now,” he said.

The triage nurse at the hospital was cranky. She was abrupt and acted as if we were inconveniencing her. I didn’t hold it against her. She was nearing the end of what had probably been a long shift in the emergency room, but still. Being cranky with a sick five-year-old seems a bit much. She did her thing and then sent us off to see the admitting doctor – go to the room at the end of the hall and wait in partition D, she said.

The doctor was cranky. He overheard James saying that we were looking for “Number D” and grumpily said, “D is not a number.”

For God’s sake. I mean, I know E.R. doctors are taxed to the limit. These guys are on their feet for long shifts during which they no doubt have to make many life-or-death decisions, but come on. Don’t take out your stress on a five-year-old child who is visibly ill.

Anyway.

The doctor examined James and said that he was severely dehydrated. He invited me to feel James’ hands. I did, and they were ice-cold. The dehydration had made his core body temperature drop right down. We were taken to a dedicated examination room and IV fluids were started. Within 20 minutes, James’ temperature was looking better.

The on-duty pediatrician came in, examined James, and made the decision to keep him in overnight. He was transferred to the pediatric floor, and we were installed in a room. I helped the nurses get James as settled as he could be, and then I lay in the bed provided for me and failed to sleep. Every now and then I kind of sank into a trance, only to be roused by the comings and goings of the nurses who came in to fuss over James every now and then.

James was in much better spirits when he woke up in the morning. He still couldn’t eat, but he requested and received a Popsicle. In a turn of events that was very sweet, when the nurse came in with the Popsicle, he asked her if she would please get another one for his Mommy. We sat there in companionable silence, eating our Popsicles together (and it was so welcome – my throat was parched), and then another nurse came in bearing gifts.  Apparently, every child admitted to the pediatric floor gets a bag of toys that they get to take home with them.

I borrowed a BlackBerry charger from the doctor, and was able to be in touch with the outside world again. I read and responded to emails, James played with his new toys plus the ones his Dad had brought him from home during the night.  Apart from the occasional stomach cramps and attacks of diarrhea still plaguing James, all was well, if a little bit boring. IV fluids continued to drip into his system, and the comings and goings now involved a different group of doctors and nurses.

In the middle of the afternoon, I was finally able to get a cup of coffee and a sandwich. By this point I was beyond exhaustion and beyond hunger. With the nurse watching James, I fled to the donut shop, where I got a sandwich and a cup of coffee. Then, in a bid to extend my freedom for a little longer, I went into the gift shop and got James a new Cars toy and a book.

Back upstairs, I drank my coffee and ate half of the sandwich. I promptly threw both of them up.

Lovely. Just as my son is getting better, now I start to get sick?

Since I have not had a repeat episode since then, I am assuming that my system was just responding to exhaustion, and that the shock of actually receiving food for the first time in 24 hours was a bit too much for my body.

In the late afternoon, the pediatrician came in and declared James almost well enough to go home. He was hydrated again, he was drinking on his own, and he had even managed a bit of food. All we were waiting for, she said, was for him to pee. Once he had peed, we would know that fluids were getting both into and out of his system OK. In the I.T. world, we would refer to this as end-to-end testing.

A couple of hours later, James’ bladder obliged, and we were given the all-clear to leave. The IV was disconnected, final temperature and blood pressure checks were done, and we were out of there. James was definitely a much more healthy, brighter child than he had been before going in.

It felt almost obscenely good to be back home.

James is OK. George, who was doing a great deal of his own throwing up in our absence, seems to be on the mend. I have not tossed my cookies again (although, to be fair, I haven’t taken a chance on eating either).

Equilibrium seems to be returning…

And I am truly grateful to the doctors and nurses at Centenary Hospital for taking such good care of my baby.

Filed Under: hospital, Illness Tagged With: , , , , , , , , , , , , , ,
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Sick Child, Sleepless Night

February 8, 2011 By

When you receive a call from your child’s daycare that includes the words “vomiting” and “diarrhea”, you know your day is about to take a nosedive.

Yesterday morning, I arrived at work and went straight into a meeting without even going to my desk first. After the meeting, I returned to my desk and saw the message light on my phone blinking. Three new messages. All of them from James’ daycare teacher, asking begging for someone to pick him up and take him home.

This was a problem for me, since I was sitting in my office at work, more than an hour away by public transit. I called my mother-in-law, who is listed on James’ paperwork as a designated pick-up person. She didn’t answer her phone. I called Gerard, whose place of business is ten minutes’ drive away. He didn’t answer his phone. For about twenty minutes, I was frantically calling the two numbers in turn, picturing my poor child huddled over miserably at the daycare. In the end, my mother-in-law picked him up, and took care of him for the day until Gerard and I were able to get home.

During the night, things got really rough. Right before bedtime, James twisted around to throw up again, into the plastic basin that he had placed beside him. As he twisted, he dinged his knee very hard on the metal frame of the futon he was lying on. All of a sudden, his knee was as much of a problem (although a less messy one) than the fact that he was sick.

He was crying because his stomach was hurting. He was crying because his knee was hurting. He was crying because he felt bad about messing up his clothes. He was crying because he was hurting with thirst and couldn’t keep anything down.

My poor baby.

I lay down with him and tried to sleep.

That didn’t work out too well. During the night, there were two episodes of vomiting and one of diarrhea, along with many, many cries of pain because of the sore knee. I iced and bandaged the knee, and that seemed to help. I dressed James in clean pyjamas, and that made him feel better. I gave him sips of flat Coke, and he managed to keep that down.

Finally my boy went to sleep.

I did not. By now my mind was racing a million miles a minute. I was thinking of anything and everything. Rest was out of the question. Finally, at around 6:00 a.m., I fell into a fitful sleep, only to be woken up half an hour later.

Going to work today was out of the question. James, while a lot better, needs to be at home, and he needs his Mommy with him. Meanwhile, Mommy’s brain is in a complete fog. I tried to do some work from home, but in the end, I decided to take the day off. Work in any reasonable form was just not going to happen today.

On the bright side, we have had about seven hours now with no throwing up, and about five hours with no diarrhea.

Things are looking up.

Filed Under: Children, Illness, parenting Tagged With: , , , , , , , , ,
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From Cold Meds To Running Shoes

February 1, 2011 By

For the last week or so I’ve had a cold.  It snuck up on me with no warning, last Tuesday afternoon.  On Tuesday morning I went to the gym and ran on the treadmill.  I had a great run – very fast (for me), averaging 4:57 minutes per kilometre.  I felt fine while I was running, my heart rate was not elevated, and I felt great when I was done.  I went off to work and had a good morning.  While I was on the subway coming home, I suddenly got that feeling of pressure in my face that usually heralds a cold.  By the time I went to bed that night, I had cold sweats and felt absolutely awful.

Since then the cold has ebbed and flowed.  Right now, it is flowing.  My throat hurts, my head is throbbing, my nose is running, and my eyes are oozing.  I look – well, let’s just say that I don’t look my best right now.

As always when I get sick, I have been fretting about my inability to run.  I have been thinking about the races I am registered for and wondering how I will train for them if I’m sitting here with a snotty nose.  The truth, of course, is that this is only a cold, and it will be gone a matter of days from now.  I will no doubt be doing short runs again by the weekend, and by next weekend I will in all likelihood be well enough to go for a longer run with my running club.

Despite the fact that I always turn into a pathetic crybaby when I have a cold, my attitude has made a more positive shift this morning.  Yes, I’m still fed up with the cold, but I’m feeling excited about running again.  It’s a positive kind of excitement.  It’s not the kind of excitement that says, “Go out and run no matter what, even if you feel like crap.” It’s the kind of excitement that says, “Rest and get better, and then you’ll be able to really enjoy yourself when you’re back on the road.”

So that’s what I’m doing.  I’m resting, drinking orange juice, taking vitamins and supplements.

My anticipation to get the running shoes back on is a great incentive for me to get better.

Filed Under: Illness, postaday2011, running Tagged With: , , , , ,
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From Cold Meds To Running Shoes

February 1, 2011 By

For the last week or so I’ve had a cold.  It snuck up on me with no warning, last Tuesday afternoon.  On Tuesday morning I went to the gym and ran on the treadmill.  I had a great run – very fast (for me), averaging 4:57 minutes per kilometre.  I felt fine while I was running, my heart rate was not elevated, and I felt great when I was done.  I went off to work and had a good morning.  While I was on the subway coming home, I suddenly got that feeling of pressure in my face that usually heralds a cold.  By the time I went to bed that night, I had cold sweats and felt absolutely awful.

Since then the cold has ebbed and flowed.  Right now, it is flowing.  My throat hurts, my head is throbbing, my nose is running, and my eyes are oozing.  I look – well, let’s just say that I don’t look my best right now.

As always when I get sick, I have been fretting about my inability to run.  I have been thinking about the races I am registered for and wondering how I will train for them if I’m sitting here with a snotty nose.  The truth, of course, is that this is only a cold, and it will be gone a matter of days from now.  I will no doubt be doing short runs again by the weekend, and by next weekend I will in all likelihood be well enough to go for a longer run with my running club.

Despite the fact that I always turn into a pathetic crybaby when I have a cold, my attitude has made a more positive shift this morning.  Yes, I’m still fed up with the cold, but I’m feeling excited about running again.  It’s a positive kind of excitement.  It’s not the kind of excitement that says, “Go out and run no matter what, even if you feel like crap.” It’s the kind of excitement that says, “Rest and get better, and then you’ll be able to really enjoy yourself when you’re back on the road.”

So that’s what I’m doing.  I’m resting, drinking orange juice, taking vitamins and supplements.

My anticipation to get the running shoes back on is a great incentive for me to get better.

Filed Under: Illness, postaday2011, running Tagged With: , , , , ,
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Being Sick Is Crap

January 26, 2011 By

I have a confession to make: I’m not a nice sick person.  Some people take being sick in their stride.  They get their blankets and their cups of tea, and they curl up on the couch and enjoy the opportunity to watch a bit of guilt-free television.  I turn into a pathetic cry-baby and start whining about the fact that I can’t go for a run.

I have a thing about needing control over my body, and in this respect I’m probably no different from anyone else.   Where I might differ, however, is in the level of anxiety I feel when my body lets me down.  I don’t like the fact that I am always overwhelmed by all of the stuff I have to do on a daily basis, but I need to know that I can.  If I am not able to get up in the morning, go for a run, go to work, and do everything associated with parenting my kids, I get very stressed and anxious, almost afraid.  I don’t like the feeling of being physically weak and unable to do things.

So when I suddenly started feeling ill yesterday I was not pleased.  What started as a sore throat yesterday afternoon progressed into a full-blown cold by bedtime.  The kind of cold that comes complete with aches and pains, and ice-cold chills.  I was lying on the couch watching TV with Gerard last night, wearing about four layers and with three blankets piled on top of me.  By the time I woke up this morning, my voice was a thing of the past and both of the kids had a cold as well.

I had to stay home today.  Not only to be with the kids, but to try and rest a little and shake the cold myself.

The chaos started when James appeared by my side at about 11:00 a.m. telling me that he had made a swimming pool.  When I went to investigate I found that there was indeed a swimming pool – right in the middle of my mattress.

An hour later, James told me that he had made a water factory on his Dad’s desk.  Against my better judgment, I went to take a look: there were several bowls on the desk, precariously balanced and filled to the brim with water.

Later in the day, the two kids worked in collaboration to empty a dump-truck full of water all over the living room floor.

Dear Lord in heaven…

There was the upended stationery drawer, the melted Popsicle on the bedroom floor, the melted Popsicle on the couch, and the milk spilled in the kitchen.

Is it any wonder I don’t like being sick?  Look what happens!

I am exhausted, and mysteriously feeling well enough to go to work tomorrow.

Filed Under: Children, Illness, postaday2011 Tagged With: , , , , , , , ,
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Life Blood

January 12, 2011 By

What can I do?

This has been the question plaguing me for the last few days, while friend and fellow writer Amy sits at her critically ill baby’s bedside, waiting, hoping and praying.  I have been doing my best to send out an ever-expanding circle of positive energy to Amy, and to the baby, David.  I have tried to let Amy know – hopefully Amy does know – that I am with her in spirit, waiting and hoping and praying with her. I have been giving my own kids lots of extra hugs, letting them stay up past their bedtime just so that I could have an extra fifteen minutes with them, not getting so het up over silly things that prior to learning about the severity of David’s illness, would have had my knickers in a twist.

All of this is important.  I believe that the positive thoughts and the shifts in focus and the offers of support do at least let the intended recipient know that they are being thought of, that they are not alone.  But it doesn’t seem enough.  I have found myself wishing, longing to do something practical to help make this journey even a little bit easier for Amy to bear.

What can I do?

The obvious problem is that Amy and I live in different countries.  If I lived in Ohio, I would be able to do stuff.  I could cook meals for Amy’s family.  I could take her laundry away and bring her fresh changes of clothing.  I could bring books to read to Captain Snuggles. I could offer to babysit her kids so that she could get time with her husband.  The list of what I could do if I were there goes on and on.  But the fact remains that I live in Toronto and Amy lives in Ohio.

What can I do?

Realistically, my ability to help Amy in any practical sense is severely limited.  But this morning, I thought of something I can do that could potentially help other people in her situation, in David’s situation.

Over the last few days, Captain Snuggles has had multiple blood transfusions.  His mother has watched desperately as his life blood has flowed out of him faster than it can be replaced.  Without the transfusions he has received so far, it is extremely likely that David would not still be with us.

That blood has to come from somewhere.  I have plenty of what I assume is perfectly good blood: there is no reason for me to not give it to someone whose life might well depend on it.

The last time I donated blood, it did not go well.  But that was twenty years ago, and due to extremely stressful events that were happening in my life at the time, my health had taken a hammering.  Now my health is fine, and I feel inspired to give it another go.  There is a blood donor clinic at my place of work next week, and I have made my appointment to be a part of it.  For the next week, I will be eating lots of healthy stuff and doing what I can to make sure my blood is whole and healthy.

Maybe this small act will save someone’s life.  Maybe it will bring some family back from the brink of despair.  Maybe it will give someone hope.

Amy, if you are reading this, I really wish I could do something that would help you directly.  But please know that my decision to donate blood is inspired by you and your beautiful boy.  Even though he will not physically benefit, I am doing this for Captain Snuggles.

(Photo credit: Flickr Creative Commons Attribution License)

Filed Under: health, Illness, life, Medical, postaday2011 Tagged With: , , , , , , , , , ,
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He Lives To Fight Another Day…

January 10, 2011 By

For those following the story, Captain Snuggles chugs along.  Last night was a bad one.  There was much bleeding, so much that a blood transfusion was called for.  Amy’s full update can be found here.

I want to take a moment here to spare a thought for a special group of people: donors.  Baby David is still with us – albeit in a tenuous state – because of a liver and Lord knows how many pints of blood that originated from other human beings.  Blood and organ donors save lives.  They give hope where otherwise there would be none.

I have my usual request tonight, which is to please keep thinking those positive thoughts.  Keep saying those prayers to whatever supreme being you happen to believe in.  Continue to send out that vibrant, life-giving energy to Amy and her son David.

And Amy, may you feel the love of a thousand hugs, and know that there are many people rooting for David and reaching out a hand to hold you steady when you need it.  Know that you are not alone.

Kirsten

 

Filed Under: Illness, positive thoughts Tagged With: , , , , , , ,
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A Captain’s Courage

January 9, 2011 By

I find that I am posting twice on some days now.  I wish I didn’t have the material that allows me to do so.  I wish that I didn’t have a friend keeping vigil at her critically ill baby boy’s hospital bed.  But I do, and Amy – a woman with immense strength and bravery – is in need of any many prayers and positive thoughts that she can possibly get for her son, David, affectionately referred to as Captain Snuggles.

This kid is amazing.  He is not even a year old and he has been through a liver transplant, intubation, countless medications, complications, skin blistering and sloughing away – and he is hanging in there.  He is not doing well.  His kidneys are acting up, to the point where this tiny little human being could end up on dialysis.  His lungs are acting up, so the doctors having to up his ventilator settings and are now looking at upgrading the ventilator itself.

But he is hanging in there.

This is one brave, brave little boy.

Let’s all help him to be brave.  Let’s help his Mom to be brave.

Please.

Those positive thoughts that people have been sending out for Amy and the Little Cap’n?  They are being noticed.  The nurses in the hospital have commented on the atmosphere in David’s room.

So let’s keep it going, people.  Let’s keep that energy flowing, bright and beautiful, to Amy and David.

Thank you so much for caring.
Kirsten

For a full update, please check out Amy’s blog.

 

Filed Under: Illness, positive thoughts Tagged With: , , , , , ,
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I Thought It Would Be Hard

January 8, 2011 By

Captain Snuggles

I thought it would be hard to do this one-post-a-day thing, but I find myself with an abundance of material.  Sure, it can be hard to find the time to write, what with a full-time job, a long daily commute, and the whole parenting enchilada.  But I find that the key element is having the seed of an idea in my head.  If I have that to start from, the words flow easily.  To be fair, these are early days, and I’m only one week into this challenge.  A month or six months from now I may be singing a different tune entirely.  But for now, I’m finding this OK.

I thought it would be hard to run a half-marathon.  I was overweight, unfit, and didn’t feel capable of walking down a flight of stairs.  But I planned and trained, I lost weight and got fit.  I still thought it would be hard, because you know, thirteen miles is thirteen miles.  I reasoned, though, that this was two and a half hours of running, of merely putting one foot in front of the other.  Compared with what my son George has to endure, trapped in his world of autism, day in and day out, two and a half hours of running didn’t seem to be too bad.

I thought it would be hard to be a special needs Mom.  I remember sitting in the doctor’s office, receiving the diagnosis, listening to the doctor tell us everything that George would never achieve (some of which he has, in spectacular fashion, since accomplished).  I thought that parenting my beautiful boy would be a lifetime of challenges and heartbreaks.  And yes, there is some of that.  There are days when it all seems too much, when I want to ask the gods of fate why they picked me to fulfill this extremely challenging role in the life of another human being, one who needs special care and attention.

But when I compare that to what some other parents have to go through, it doesn’t seem too bad.  About fifteen years ago, I attended the funeral of a seven-year-old girl who had died from a diabetic complication.  My fiance’s cousin lost his seventeen-year-old son to cancer a little more than a year ago.  Witnessing parents burying their children is awful.  It’s the saddest thing in the universe.

My friend Amy – someone I met through the magic of the Internet just a couple of months ago – is watching over her son David, a.k.a. Capt. Snuggles.  The Captain has a genetic disorder that three of his brothers were also born with.  Nathaniel had just five days on earth before this disease – Citrullinemia – took him from his parents.  Jonathan and Zachary received transplants to “cure” them.  David received a transplant as well, but he is so deep in the woods right now that medical experts are struggling to bring him out.

The last few months have been a series of setbacks and progressions.  Some days good, some days bad.  Right now, things are not looking great, and Amy is now having to endure conversations about “Do Not Resuscitate” orders.

Miracles can happen.  I am writing this in the belief that Capt. Snuggles is going to pull through this and go home to live with his family.

I thought it would be hard to raise a child with autism.  But what I have to go through is nothing compared to what some other parents have to endure.  At least my child is alive.  At least I can kiss him goodnight with the reasonable expectation that I will get to hug him when he wakes up the following morning.

When I think about Amy and her family, and what they’re currently living with, I find myself grateful – tearfully, overwhelmingly grateful – for every single second I have with my boys.

(Click here to read Amy’s story)

Photo credit: Amy (http://transplantedx3.wordpress.com)

Filed Under: Illness, postaday2011 Tagged With: , , , , , , , , ,
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Raising A Little Chi…

January 7, 2011 By

I am writing this tonight on behalf of someone I have never met in person, yet who I have come to care about a great deal.  Amy is a fellow writer on World Moms Blog, which I am honoured to be a part of.  Amy and I have been getting to know one another through our respective blogs.  She is one of the bravest people I know.  For the last few months, she has been pretty much living at the hospital, at the bedside of her infant son, David, who is very sick with a genetic disorder.

And now Amy and David need your help.  David is in serious trouble – so serious that doctors are talking to Amy about DNR’s for her son (do not resuscitate).  There is a very real possibility that Amy, who has already lost one child to this illness, will have to say goodbye to her precious little boy.

Amy’s story can be found here: http://transplantedx3.wordpress.com/2011/01/07/a-call-to-arms/

I am choosing to believe that a miracle is still possible.

I am posting this, sending it out to whoever I can, in the belief that the greater the number of people who send out positive energy into the universe for Amy and David (a.k.a. Capt. Snuggles), the more chance we’ll have of a positive outcome.

So please, wing a prayer for Amy and David.  Think positive thoughts, send out some good chi into the universe.

Kirsten

Filed Under: Illness, positive thoughts Tagged With: , , , , , , , , ,
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