How life makes its own plans
So I really was going to write more about Buffy and parenthood last night (and I still will sometime soon) but instead I was down the emergency room with Helena. She, like her mother and her brother, has asthma. Unlike her mother and her brother, however, she goes from feeling fine to real crisis very quickly. By the time I got her home to give her a nebulizer, it was really too late and the nebulizer didn’t work well enough so off we sailed (thank you again, Mike) to the ER of Children’s Hospital where they monitored her and monitored her some more and gave her some medication and then in the end, let us go home.
Being in a hospital always seems to me only half real. I read her stories but was surprised when we came to the end, because I couldn’t remember saying any of the words. We held a pager which would buzz when they were ready to take us and it became a talisman very quickly. I wasn’t always sure where my bag was, but I held that pager like it would explode if I dropped it. The hospital is under construction so several of the walks between this room and that were through makeshift corridors draped in plastic sheeting, with a dim light hinting at shadows behind. They gave Helena as set of four crayons and I wondered if they were specially made for hospitals and what Crayola would have called the colors: Scarlet Fever Red, GanGreen, Asphyxiation Blue and Jaundice Yellow. Of course, they weren’t. Of course not. Things were very cheerful. It is, after all, a children’s hospital and there was a shelf of decent books to read while we waited and Helena at first celebrated and then fretted because they had taped a monitor to her toe and she hates bandaids.
She was such a trouper. They put a bracelet on her with her details and after than, any time a new doctor or nurse walked into the room, she thrust her wrist out at them, announcing that she was Helena. (As a side note, every single doctor and nurse pronounced her name wrong at first: Helayna, or Heleeena, rather than Hellena. Which is what it is. Honestly, if I had known we would borrow so much pronunciation trouble with that name, we might have gone with Freya.) She asked “Will this hurt?” every time someone approached her and gamely coughed and breathed when they asked her to. In the end, as we waited yet another 15 minutes between monitorings, I laid down beside her and she fell asleep. I watched the machines and my child, working to breathe, and I wished, not the first time or the last, that I was on better terms with god. I prayed anyway.
In the end, though she was not really well, they let me take her home because they didn’t really need to admit her, so we could carry on doing what they would have done there at home, that is, keep her dosed up to the eyeballs with albuterol and Flovent.
“Sleep next to her tonight,” the doctor said as we left. “Keep her close.”
As if I needed telling.
Oh, so hard! You’re all in our thoughts.
Such a strong little girl, to handle all that. And such a strong mommy too.
I’m sorry you had a rough night; being at the hospital with one of your children is never fun.
She is beautiful. That picture is precious — sleeping children are just so innocent.
I’m glad I now know how to pronounce her name correctly.
Oh, I want to kiss her forehead! Poor litte dear…..
A friend of mine has twins with asthma and other respiratory issues, so I have some idea of how frightened you must have been. What a lousy way to spend an evening.
Oh my god- you sound like you were so calm throughout that whole thing. I would have been a total mess. She is so beautiful. That picture of her makes me heart want to burst, and imagining her grasping for air to breathe makes me heart want to burst too. I am glad that she has an amazing mommy like you, to keep her safe, and snuggled and aware that she is loved fiercely.
awwwwwwww….
poor l’il thing
and how scary for you!
will it decrease as she gets older
do you think?
(i really don’t know much about
asthma…i had bronchial asthma
when i was a teenager but i’m
certain it was not one iota
as scary as having your child
sick like that)
hope to hear she is feeling better
soon!
Ok Could she be more beautiful sleeping?!?! I could not leave her side either!!! I am glad she is ok and I hope feeling much better!!!! And you…get some rest too!
My children have asthma (cough variant) as well, thankfully we have always been able to stop the attacks with a nebulizer, but it has taken several treatments. There is nothing worse than watching a child struggle to breath. My nephew has been rushed to the hospital several times unable to breath. I’ve always been amazed at the strength and calmness my sister-in-law(who is quite the high strung one) has during these episodes.
I hope that Helena(beautiful child) is well and that you get rest and peace soon.
Yep, yep. My boys both inherited my asthma (luckily, my daughter managed to escape it). We’ve spent several surreal visits with each in the ER. The youngest, Keith, is like Helena – one minute, a bit wheezy, and the next, he’s starting to look a funny color. It’s soooo scary.
Asthma has nearly killed me a couple of times, once in childhood and once as a fully functioning adult. (No one reminded me that when your brain isn’t getting enough oxygen, it doesn’t work so well…) I waited too long to get to the ER – I blacked out just after getting through the hospital door and woke up with tubes coming out everywhere. (At least I was out for that part??)
Poor baby! I hope you are all feeling better by now.
This is the amazing thing about parents. How do you deal with it on a daily basis, knowing that something — anything — might happen to your children???