A Night at the ER

My heart was breaking this past Thursday.  My baby boy was in so much pain and there was nothing I could do to relieve it...

Let me start at the beginning.  Thursday morning we all got up and ate breakfast.  Things were rolling along just fine.  My little guy came up to me while I was doing school with the other kids and said that his belly hurt.  I told him to go lay down and rest for a little bit.  He did, and I continued school.  A little bit later he came up and told me that it hurt again.  I figured he probably was getting a stomach bug and told him to go lay down and take a garbage can with him just in case.  He did.

I called all the kids down for lunch.  Handed out their plates.  He handed his plate back to me and said that he didn't want to eat.  That was strange.  He loves cheeseburgers and french fries.  I took his plate, laid it on the counter and told him he could eat it later if he wanted to.

Around two o'clock he was crying that his belly hurt.  I sat next to him with the garbage can and rubbed his back.  He cried out for me to stop.  It was making it worse.  I stopped and just touched his knee, saying little encouraging words to him.  He cried for a bit, then went off to play.  For sure, at this point, I was thinking stomach bug.

 

One thing about my baby boy, is that he has an extremely high pain tolerance.  So, if he starts complaining, I know it's really hurting him.

 An hour later, he was back to inconsolable screaming.  The bouts were lasting longer.  His belly was painful to the touch.  There was more pain when I pressed on his right side.  Appendicitis crossed my mind.  Time to call the doctor.

Of course, when things happen to my kids, it is either on the weekends or after hours.  I called the pediatricians office and they were closing in 15 minutes.  They referred me to the after hours clinic.  By the time I hung up from the pediatric nurse, my little guy got sick. (He made it to the garbage can!)  I asked him how he felt.  He said he felt much better.  My thoughts went back to a stomach bug.  I was partially relieved, but Appendicitis was still on my mind.  Ten minutes later, he was hunched over screaming about stomach pain.  I immediately called the after hours clinic and they got him in right away.

We got there at 6:30pm.  He was acting fine when we entered the waiting room.  Luckily, he asked for me to bring the garbage can, because as soon as we got into Triage, he got sick again.  He began screaming about his belly.  The nurse saw his pain.  They gave him a med for his belly to help him stop throwing up, and they ordered X-rays and other tests.  All came back normal.  He had stopped throwing up,  He looked much better.

At 9:00pm they sent us home with the instructions that if he started uncontrollably screaming again, I should take him to the ER right away.  Earlier, we had left the house before supper, so the other three kids and I were hungry.  I stopped off at Chick-Fil-A to grab something to eat.  I was sitting in the drive through, when behind me, he started screaming alarmingly loud and crying.  The words, "Mommy, please help me!  My belly hurts so bad!" were screamed over and over.  I sat there in the driver's seat sobbing.  I called Matt.  He was on his way home from work.  We met at our house at the same time.  I dropped the other three kids off with him and drove my baby to the ER.

The screaming and crying coming from the back seat just broke my heart.  My baby was in so much pain.  There was nothing physically that I could do to help him.  I prayed and cried.  As tears were streaming down my cheeks,  the screaming suddenly stopped.  I looked back.  His eyes were closed.  His mouth was gaping open.  Was he sleeping, or was he . . . . I didn't even want to think the word.  I yelled out his name over and over to try to get him to respond.  He didn't.  I reached my hand back to touch his body.  It was warm.  I drove up I-65 and kept looking in the rear view mirror to see if he was breathing.  I couldn't tell.  It was dark.  I called my dear friend.  I needed someone to talk to.  Someone I knew who would talk sense into me.  Someone I could cry my heart out to.  She listened.  She prayed.  I heard my baby take a deep breath in the back seat.  I calmed down.

I got to the ER and carried a limp body into a packed emergency room.  The sign read that they took patients according to severity.  At this point my little guy was sleeping, so I knew we were not high on the list.  It was going to be a long wait.  As I sat there praying over him with tears rolling down my cheek, the Youth Pastor came in to see us.  He prayed for us and brought me something to eat.  (It was 11:00pm and I just realized that I hadn't eaten since 11:30am.)  His visit helped calm me even more.  I knew my baby was in God's hands, and there is no better place to be.

We were called in at 11:45, two hours after we arrived.  Not bad for a packed ER.  We made our way back to our room.  The nurse wanted a urine sample from him.  We went into the restroom.  He started to have an attack while in there.  He screamed so loud, the doctors and nurses heard him on the other side of the ER.  We got the sample and made our way back into our room.  Immediately afterwards, we had a nurse, two doctors and the man for the CT scan at our door.   They asked questions, observed, drew blood and did other unpleasant tests.  My trooper took it all.  He hardly uttered a peep of contention.   Then the doctor sent the CT technician away.  I didn't realize it then, but it was wise of her.  At that moment I was thinking she was nuts.

It was 2:00 Friday morning and we got the blood test results in.  The doctor came back and told me that it probably wasn't Appendicitis.  The blood work showed no sign of infection, plus he was having bouts of pain and not constant pain.  She told me it was probably a virus that was accompanied by severe stomach pain.  She instructed me to push fluids and see if he could keep them down.

I didn't like this one little bit.  Probably wasn't Appendicitis . . . Probably was a virus.  All these probablies had me unsettled.  I voiced my concern to the doctor, she said she understood, but was going to treat it like a virus regardless.

I spent the next hour in turmoil, not knowing what to do.  Thoughts of the ER sending us home and then having my child die of a burst Appendix were rushing through my mind.  What could I do?  I prayed.  I prayed like a mad-woman.  I asked God to either change that doctors mind or give me peace.  In the next hour neither of those things happened.

It was 3:00am and one of the doctors told me to start giving him syringes of Gatorade every five minutes.  It was so difficult to wake my baby up every five minutes.  I knew he was so tired.  I was so tired.  But I did it.  In between syringes, I'd cry out to God to either change the doctor's mind or for me to have peace about her decision.

At 4:15am the nurse came in and asked if I thought he was ready to go home.  God had given me the peace I needed, and I replied that he was.

We were home by 4:45am and in bed by 5:00.  But I couldn't fall asleep right away.  I had been up for 24 hours, I should've fallen into bed and collapsed into a deep sleep, but I couldn't.

The thought of my precious child being so ill that I thought he wasn't going to make it kept running through my head.  Then it made me think of how often I take my children for granted.  How I should thank God daily for them.   Even when they are fighting, whining, complaining or whatever...I should be thankful for them.  At least I have them to hear them fight, whine, complain, etc.  I couldn't imagine life without them.

I finally fell asleep.  Three hours later I was back awake again, trying to run the house with an exhausted husband. (He had stayed up the entire night too)  We had a doctor's appointment at 2:15 with the pediatrician.  They ran the same tests to compare the results and make sure that it was not Appendicitis.  The results came back.  All levels looked better than the previous night's.  The pediatrician said that the results clearly implied that it was not Appendicitis.  I finally felt great relief.

Today, my young one is running around playing like he had before this whole thing happened.  He's acting silly.  He's smiling.  He's active.  It makes my heart happy to see him back to his regular self.   And although I did not enjoy going through this whole experience, it has helped me remember to be thankful for my kids everyday and never take them for granted.  Thankfully, it was a lesson learned with a happy ending.  

 

I am so blessed to have my four children.  They truly are a gift from God!