Peter’s Week
Who, ever gets up in the morning thinking their life will be forever altered at the finish of it. I didn’t, my son didn’t. Still, I did wake up with a nagging feeling that something just wasn’t right.
It was a normal day, like always the kids and I got up, had breakfast and set out on our morning walk with the girls. Peter likes to take walks in the morning with “the girls”. They have kids slightly younger than he and peter enjoys seeing them. Andy was his normal happy self, going with the flow.
Peter is a little lethargic, I think he is sick. We have to cut our walk short today for the doctor’s appointment that I have scheduled for him. Yes, it is one of those times. I don’t know what is wrong with him. No, he doesn’t have a fever. No, he’s not throwing up. Why did I come in? He is acting funny. I will get them, “look and the talk”, for over reacting mothers, who bring in their children after one cough. I don’t care. Something just doesn’t feel right.
Our walk goes fine and it’s time to leave. I take the kids back to the car. I strap the kids in the car. It won’t start. There must have been a light left on or something. Eerily the first thing I think is, “if I don’t make this appointment, I’m taking him to the emergency room.” They will really love me there! There is no one around that can jump the car. I unpacked the kids and packed them back into the stroller. I start running. I know about where my friends should be. I catch up to them.
We hike it back to my car and thankfully we are able to make it start. Thank you God! (Blowing him kisses) The perfect person I am. I can still make the appointment. When you have children, always plan to be there a half hour ahead of time. Most of the time, you won’t be late.
The normal nurse questions while we weigh him check the temperature and blood pressure. No fever, throwing up…no, stopped eating …no, rash…no, seem in pain…no, why did you come in? He is acting funny. He seems to be breathing faster even when he sleeps. He is lethargic and fussy. That’s it? Yes. Have a seat; the doctor will be right with you.
Peter’s doctor comes in. He is always cheerful and a good listener. Peter likes him and lets him have a thorough exam. Today is not as tolerant but everything goes fine. He finds that Peter’s ear a little pink. Ear infection he says. Has he been rubbing or pulling at it? No. What about the fast breathing? It’s probably his way of dealing with the pain. I got a prescription for an antibiotic and some numbing drops. We waited for, Peter, Andy and I, for an hour and twenty minutes for the medicine. Finally we get in the car to go home. I gave peter his medicine before leaving.
On the way home Peter started to fuss and then gag. I pull over, worried. There is nothing I can do. He calms down after a minute. I keep driving home. We pick up Jake a little while after getting home. It time for Peter to have a nap. As time has gone by, he has been increasingly fussy. We decide it is just too much. We worry that Peter may be having an allergic reaction to the medicine that he had been prescribed. Jake and I loaded both kids in the car to go back to the hospital.
Peter’s breathing has become labored. He is even more lethargic than before. Peter is not paying any attention to what is going on around him. (It’s here the numbing action kicks in. A part of your brain kicks in, that suppresses emotions, so that they don’t interrupt and can deal with the situation appropriately.) It’s really quite tiring.
I carry Peter into the office. I told them I was just here (It was the same people) and I think he is having an allergic reaction to the antibiotic. A nurse yells, “he’s having trouble breathing”, and all hell breaks loose. People start attaching wires while I am holding him. We are being shepherded to a room with a ridiculous amount of medical junk in it.
They take him from me.
More wires are stuck to him. I count three doctors. An IV is put into his right arm. He is crying, scared, confused and trying to reach for me. All I can do is stroke his hair and wipe the tears from his face. Nurses and doctors are using their own language to communicate. By now, blood has been drawn three times in two different ways. The doctor is sweating. He looks nervous. The other one is poking at a machine. I don’t know what the last one is doing in the hallway. An Iv is put in his left arm now. They strap boards to his arms, from his upper arm to his hand. Peter is still struggling to breath. He has turned white and is not crying as much. He is weakly repeating, “Momma, Momma”, over and over again. He doesn’t talk a lot yet. “I’m here, Mommy is here”, is all I can say.
More nurses bring in a X-ray machine. They ask me to leave. I step into the hallway. Jake is playing with Andy. The third doctor looks at me and asks, “Why are you so calm?” (What are do you say to something like that?) I shrug.
I go back in. The doctor says. “We are moving him to the ER. The equipment we need is there. You’ll have to run along with us.” I run and tell Jake we are moving. He starts to pack up Andy. I run with the entourage to the ER with Peter. After we had been there for about 2 minutes, a nurse hands a phone to the doctor. (Apparently, it’s the lab.) He talks for a minute, hangs up and comes to me. He said that “peter is very sick”, He is in a state we call DKA. Peter is diabetic. This has probably been coming on for a while.
Deep breath.
Jake walks into the ER. I walk up to him, choke, and say Peter is diabetic.
Normal 0 false false false EN-US X-NONE X-NONE
So, Peter has diabetes. Well, at least they know what’s wrong, at least I didn’t let him drink cleaner or something. Nope, I don’t feel any better. The doctor steps back and says he is moving peter to Sacred Heart Children’s Hospital ICU. They are better equipped to take care of him there.
Jake takes Andy home to our amazing neighbor Jen. He also collects supplies to spend the night at the hospital. Peter and I are put into an ambulance to Sacred Heart. The sirens are not as loud inside the ambulance as I expected them to be. Peter has fallen half asleep out of exhaustion. It looks like he’s passed out. The paramedic or EMT, I don’t know, pulls out a small bear. He asks me to give it to Peter when he wakes up.
We finally get there. Somehow the trip through the hospital seems longer than the ride there. We are rolled in to ICU and the nurses swarm, again. Peter is moved to another bed in a room with all too many machines. To my dismay, the nurse does not like the IV that is already in his arms. She pulls it out and replaces IVs in both arms. She better secures his arms to new boards. His arms are now flippers. Yes, there was screaming through all of it. In come more nurses. All of the tests that were done at the navy hospital are now redone at the new hospital. I am starting to view the nurses as vampires.
The doctor comes in quickly. My amazing friend Deb has arrived. The doctor says,” Peter is very sick.” Thank you for that illumination. He speaks in something surprising like English for a doctor and I am very surprised that I understand most of it. To simplify it to a pee, he is diabetic and dehydrated to the effect that if we hydrate him too quickly it will kill him. At this point I’m not sure how long I’ve been holding my breath.
Jake arrives at the end of the language lessons. It is all quickly gone through again.
It is another 24hrs before the doctor said that peter would be all right. We spent most of our time at the hospital with peter the next four days. It was filled with comforting peter as much as we could. We spent endless hours trying to learn about diabetes and how to take care of Peter. Culture shock to the extreme. Give him shots? Poke his figure eight times a day? He is just a baby; we can’t do that to him!
My most vivid memories of those few days are when peter would ball in complete despair and try to reach his arms out to me… he couldn’t bend his arms to give me a hug because they were to boards with needles coming out. Whenever a nurse or doctor walked in the room peter would burst into tears because he thought they were coming to hurt him. In his mind he was right.
I was so surprised when he started to feel better. He enjoyed toys and walks and the little things again. Any adult would stew or get depressed but not my boy. If you want to see strength, look at a child diabetic.
Now, Peter just turned 4years old. He is as happy as ever.