Hanging In There

Some of life’s events are difficult to document. This is one of those. But my memory is weak and I’ve found that the details I recorded from previous events have been helpful as we experience similar situations again.

My reluctance to write comes partly from having to relive the trauma and partly from a fear of sounding self-pitiful. It’s true that the refiner’s fire seems to be blazing about us, but we are hopeful that we will emerge stronger from its flames. While we look forward to more peaceful times for our family, we recognize that our current struggles pale in comparison with many others around us and we make conscious efforts to focus on all that is good.

Caleb has recovered quickly and fully from a terrible seizure. That is good. And it all occurred two weeks before our insurance benefits are scheduled to be terminated. That is also good. The details of the episode, however, are not.

Caleb woke with a headache Wednesday morning. He was complaining of a sore throat as well. He tried to ready himself for school but after vomiting, it was clear he needed to stay home for the day. He got sick several more times throughout the morning, but after napping and taking it easy for a few hours, seemed to be improving.

I ran to Sam’s to get some groceries while Jon kept one eye on Natty and Caleb, and the other on the job hunt. As I neared the check-out line, I called home to see if I could entice Caleb to eat some lunch. I was hoping a slice of his favorite food—pepperoni pizza—would encourage him to feel better. Jon thought he’d be up for it so I added a couple of slices to my cart and headed for home.

Once home, I set the pizza and an armful of groceries onto the kitchen counter and went to wake Caleb for his lunch. He was so deeply asleep that I couldn’t seem to wake him. Before returning to the car for the remainder of my groceries, I felt impressed to call my Visiting Teachers who were scheduled to come in the next hour. Caleb didn’t seem to be doing better after all, so I felt the need to cancel our appointment.

While I was on the phone, Caleb suddenly lurched up from the couch and let out an enormous, animalistic scream. He clutched the sides of his head and shouted incoherently. “I’m going to be sick” was all we could really understand. It seemed as though he was not fully awake but I instantly got off the phone and ran for a plastic bowl thinking that vomiting was the kind of “sick” to which he was referring. Caleb stumbled onto the floor and Jon ran to him, lifting to his lap.

When I got close with the bowl, I was struck by the sight of Caleb’s fixed, empty stare. I instantly recognized the symptoms as those I’d seen during his last seizure almost one year ago. He was clearly not “there” as I desperately tried to get him to look at me.

“This is it, Jon. This is it! This is exactly how he looked last time!” Jon hadn’t been witness to last year’s episode, but I was beginning to feel panicked as it suddenly seemed so familiar.

In the next moment, Caleb’s hands started to shake. “Look at his hands!” I shouted. With that we were heading into unfamiliar territory. His entire body began to convulse wildly. His arms were drawn up to his chest, his legs bent and every single muscle in his body intensely flexed. This went on for what felt like several minutes but was, in reality, probably only about thirty seconds. I squealed helplessly as I tried to audibly tell myself that he was okay.

When the convulsions stopped, so did his breathing. His face became a sickly shade of gray, his lips a vivid blue. Jon still holding him, cradling him like a baby, told me to call 911. I called while Jon transferred Caleb to the floor, rubbed him and yelled his name in hopes of restoring his breath. It had been about 30 seconds and Jon was getting ready to start rescue breathing when Caleb’s chest heaved dramatically in an intense, hoarse gasp. His breathing was staggered and labored, but it had returned. He remained unconscious but knowing that he was breathing helped bring us some relief.

The medics arrived just minutes after I shuttled Natalie to the neighbor’s house. Caleb, having been returned to the couch, was still unconscious and wet from incontinence caused by the seizure. He was warm to the touch, his head and face dripping with sweat. Though he let out an occasional high-pitched, whiny cry, he remained unaware of the eight emergency personnel gathered in our family room. They took his vitals then prepared to transfer him to the hospital.

One thoughtful paramedic (the only female) had noticed upon her arrival, that it appeared I was in the middle of unloading groceries. My garage door was still open and she had seen that the back hatch of my car was open with many groceries still inside. She encouraged me to quickly unload any perishables since it would take them a few more minutes to load Caleb into the ambulance. One of the other paramedics helped me by carrying in my tomatoes and grapes. It’s not every day that a fireman helps unload the groceries!

I rode in the front seat of the ambulance and Jon led the way in our car. The ride to the hospital seemed to take forever, but shortly before arriving, Caleb finally regained consciousness. I wasn’t able to see him since I had to ride up front, but I hoped my “Mom’s here” shout would bring him comfort. Though it would still be several hours before he could participate in a conversation, he was able to answer questions in one or two words. He was what they call “postictal” for an hour and half after the seizure.

We spent the next several hours in the hospital. Caleb slept soundly between the nurses’ pokings and proddings. It was determined he could be released, but he was scheduled for an EEG and appointment with the neurologist on this coming Tuesday. While at the hospital, it was also discovered that Caleb had strep throat, so they sent us out the door with a couple of prescriptions. Caleb was still too weak to walk, so Jon carried him to the car, which was about a block away.

The details of the seizure remain vivid, yet surreal in our minds. Peace has slowly drowned out the trauma of the ordeal as we’ve watched Caleb regain his strength and return to his normal energetic self. We are keeping a list of the many questions we hope to ask the neurologist this week. We fully expect to come away with a diagnosis of epilepsy and a prescription for medication. While we hope not to have to relive a situation as terrifying as last Wednesday’s events, at the very least we hope for information on how best to handle them should they occur in the future.

Caleb is doing just fine. In fact, I think he recovered more quickly than we did. We have the support of friends and family. We feel the prayers offered in our behalf. We know that soon enough, the afflictions we bear will work together for our good. And all of that is: good.