First Time For Everything

Last night (or very early this morning however you choose to look at it) was my very first rushing-a-sick-kid-to-the-emergency-room-scared-shitless experience.

Lyric had been treated a two weeks ago today for a sinus infection with a 10 day course of antibiotics that she completed.  Friday I get a phone call asking me to come pick her up and hour early because she felt as if she had a UTI and was in pain and not feeling well.  Because our doctor does not have Friday hours, I took her to the local quick care clinic.  They evaluated her and while her urine did not show any sign of infection, they gave her an antibiotic and sent her urine away for a culture.  We got her antibiotic filled the next day. 

Roughly an hour or two after her first antibiotic pill, she vomited. We deduced she vomited from the antibiotic and told her since her urine didn't show infection that she could try taking a second dose or wait to see what the culture revealed. I don't believe in giving antibiotics if there's no infection.

Sunday I woke up with a terrible cold and I'm going on a week of fighting a weird ear infection where my ear is constantly clogged with yellow gunk running out of it so given my immunosuppressed state (thanks Chemo!) I stayed in bed all day.  I finally joined the family around 7:30pm and Lyric, my husband and I watched a movie.  Lyric was fine.  She had small complaints of achiness and just not feeling well. 

Within a matter of minutes Lyric went from asking questions about a movie to almost panting/hyperventilating.  She would not answer questions, she was shaking and I knew something was very wrong.  I first thought it was a panic/anxiety attack.  When Lyric did speak she'd just say "can't breathe" and "my heart hurts."  We all changed our clothes as I ran through "do I call an ambulance or do I just take her to the ER?"  Figuring it would take longer to get an ambulance, we put her in the car and off we went. 

I kept trying to talk her through slowing her breathing. It wasn't working and I was panicking myself so I told Jeff to talk her to normal breathing.  We pulled into the ER parking area and rushed her in to sign in.  She was still taking very quick shallow breaths and they moved her immediately to triage.  Her O2 and BP were okay but her heart rate was 155.  I almost hit the floor. 

Over the course of four hours we went from talking her through breathing, getting an iv, EKG, chest xray, CT scan to rule out a PE and then we waited.  Jeff was in and out of the room because Sophia was in the waiting room and it was after midnight on a weekend. 

I explained to the nurse that Lyric has not had very positive experiences with hospitals in the past and she has dealt with more in her life than most people could imagine or comprehend.  She said Lyric may be using a panic attack in order to gain attention and not to be surprised if she was do this in the future.  I kindly but sternly told the nurse, "you're a nurse and you know medical stuff. I'm a therapist so I know mental illness.  You do what you're trained to do and I'll worry about what I'm trained to do." 

Within an hour of being in the ER, she spiked a 101.4 fever.  While I didn't want her to be sick, I felt a little vindication that I knew it was more than panic.  I never left her side, not when they drew her blood, not when they did the EKG, not when they did the chest xray, and I stood right beside her rubbing her arms wearing a royal blue metal vest while she got her CT scan.  I wasn't leaving her.  In fact they wanted to draw blood from her artery (and I KNOW how painful that is) and I told them I would NOT consent to that unless every other test they performed left them no other options than to do the draw but it would be the very last option.  Thankfully it wasn't needed.

Four hours and some IV antibiotics later, we left with a pneumonia diagnosis and a nurse telling me that she had never seen foster parents care that much about their foster children.  I don't add that to pat myself on the back.  I add that because it's a shame that sick and very scared kids don't have the same type of compassion from a parental figure in that kind of situation. 

We got home around 4 am.  I couldn't unwind to sleep until 6am and was awake by 9:30am.  I'm tired and exhausted and praying I don't catch any germs I may have come into contact with last night.  But more than anything, I'm happy she's okay. 

I've always heard parents say how scary it is to have a sick child and how they wished they could trade places with their children.  I never understood that feeling until last night.  It was the most terrified and helpless I've ever felt in my life.

We've had challenges becoming a family of four and I've had many doubts about whether or not I made the right decision to become a mom.  I worried I wasn't cut out for being a mom but last night showed me our training social worker was right: I'm definitely cut out for this.

**Names used are not their actual names**