Part 2 : Please God!

Kim is slowly improving, but also suffering some challenging headaches.  Hoping those go away soon. 

Back to when she had to go to the ER:

As we drove back to the hospital I was SO mad!  Mad because I didn't think she was ready to be released from the hospital in the first place.  Mad because she had to keep suffering.  I didn't understand why this had to be so hard?  Even as we drove, Kim asked me why this was happening? I couldn't give her an answer.  After a long pause, I simply said we just had to trust that there was a reason.

I was worried that once we got to the ER they would keep Kim in the waiting room for a long time.  I haven't had to take my kids to the ER very often, but it always includes a wait.  I pulled into the ER no-parking-drop-off zone, grabbed a wheelchair and took her to the front counter, explaining the situation. I planned on moving my car out of the no-parking zone as soon as she was settled in the waiting room--which was FULL of people.

Instead of waiting, we were immediately taken back to a room.  A nurse came in and started taking vitals, hooking her up to monitors.  Another nurse walked in and the first nurse looked over, giving her a long stare--the kind that makes the observer know something is wrong.  The first nurse casually asked if I knew what Kim's resting heart rate normally was?  Yes, I did, because I had just spent three days in the hospital seeing "90" on the monitor. 

I looked at the current monitor.  50.  Dipping into the 40s.

At this point, things moved quickly!  Doctors came in.  An IV attempted.  Questions asked.  An MRI release quickly filled out.  Medications looked at. 

I didn't ask questions.  I just kept moving out of the way as more people came in.  They simply explained they needed to make sure everything was okay at the surgical site.  They were calm--yet not.  One asked me if her face always drooped a little on one side?  HUH?  I didn't see a droop!  It was SCARY!  Within five minutes we were heading to the back elevators to get an MRI.  Previously, I had been allowed to be with Kim for her MRIs, but not this time.  I gave her a kiss and watched the giant white door slowly click shut.

At this point I was terrified!  I called Hubby and told him the situation.  Lizzy had just come home so he was able to leave right away.  I paced.  And paced.  I prayed. I worried about stupid things like my car being towed, because I hadn't yet had the chance to move it.  I paced.  I checked my watch.  I prayed. 

The medical team said it would be a quick MRI.  Five minutes.  I paced.  Prayed a simple please God, please. Checked my watch.  Ten.  Fifteen.  Twenty.

Please God.  Let her be okay.  Please God.  Please.  I can't take losing another child.  I know I haven't been the best mother.  I know I don't take my kids to church every Sunday.  I know I don't listen to you. I fail.  I don't pray enough.  I don't read my Bible enough.  I get frustrated with your plan and want to live by my own plan. 

Twenty-five.  Thirty.  Thirty-five. Pacing, pacing, in a long hallow hospital corridor. 

Please God.  I beg you.  Let her be okay. 

Forty.  Forty-five.

I'll do anything.

And my next thought was Really?  ANYTHING?  Am I really open to accepting God's will, whatever it might be?  Am I?  Even if it means losing another child?   

And I couldn't answer myself, but strangely, I did feel peace.  Whatever happened, I knew God would be with me.  I knew I wouldn't be alone.  And I knew I wasn't in control.  At all. 

The white doors mechanically moved back open.  Nurses pushing forward the rolling stretcher. Kim still yellow-pale.  No explanation of the delay.  No results.  Silence as the wheels jammed on turns and bedrails clanged against elevator doors. 

Back to the ER where an IV was successful inserted, just as Hubby arrived.  Hugs of relief.  Looks of fear.  Bags of clear fluid flowing into thirsty veins. Please God.  Please.  The neurosurgeon arriving at 2am with a smile, saying the MRI looked good!  

Thank you God!  Thank-you-a-million-times-thank-you! 

Sitting in the dark.  One parent on each side.  Beeping monitors with numbers finally rising.  Never a complete understanding of what had happened.  Simply thankful.

Thank you God!  A million times THANK YOU!

Mom-dar OR Why My Sister Is Smarter Than A Neurosurgeon

Kim is now home and SO much better.  For the first time since coming out of surgery she isn't nauseous.  Praise God!



Mother's Day 2012 



Last night was one of those scary, slow-motion, downward-spiral-real-life memories. 

Honestly, Kim was starting to go downhill Wednesday. She began vomiting again before they released her from the hospital, but it was subtle and I knew the second day after surgery is usually the worst!  We hoped that once we got home she would go into full recovery mode.  But my Mom-dar antennae went up. 

Instead, she slowly but surely got worse.  More nausea.  More vomiting.  Less interaction.  I called the doctor's office Thursday morning and was told all this was common.  All the usually advice on how to handle vomiting.  No worries.

But my Mom-dar was really going off.  Something did worry me.  And as I type this I am reminded that calls to the nurse don't often bring me needed results.  I think my laid-back nature works against me and by the time I call with a concern, I really should be making an appointment. 

The younger kids had an evening school event they were excited to attend.  I have been trying to keep their lives as normal as possible through all the recent stress, so I took them while Hubby stayed home with Kim. 

When I returned I could tell Kim wasn't doing well.  She was vomiting up everything, even small amounts of water.  She couldn't keep her medications down.  She was becoming more despondent, not even texting!  I knew then things were not good.  But she really didn't want to go to the hospital.  Nurses always have a really hard time finding a vein for her IV, so it just adds to her anxiety.  In my heart I knew she needed to go. 

I called the after-hours neurosurgeon.  She was hesitant to tell us to go to the ER.  She tried to reassure me that vomiting is common after neurosurgery.  And honestly, while Kim had some signs of dehydration, she didn't have many.  I questioned my Mom-dar. 

What popped into my mind was the good dehydration advice my sister Amber once gave me.

If a child can't get up and walk across the room you've got a problem. 

Houston.  We had a problem.  Kim was woozy, weak, and vomiting ever more frequently.  By that point, even Kim was ready to go to the hospital.  We gathered up our still unpacked hospital bags and helped her out to the car.

Stay-tuned for Part 2: Making Deals With God