From my upswing from my last anxiety attack, to a seizure Ansley had just a few weeks ago. Things are starting to fall back into place. I think.
I can't fully explain what I experienced with that text message from Paul. Before you get all "He told you over a text message that your daughter was in the ER" hate on, that's not what happened.
I was teaching. About 45 minutes from home. Paul had a meeting for work, and was unable to find a baby sitter, so he took Ansley in for the meeting with him.
While teaching, I got a message from Paul. It said "Call me when you can." Doesn't seem like much of a big deal. But, in fact, it was. Because that is unlike any message he has ever sent. Normally, the messages say "Call when you get a chance." Seems like the same thing, but I knew there was something different about this message.
So, picture me as I walk down the hall of the middle school with kids saying "Bye sex lady!" (my students love me, what can I say) It is probably important to note here to the new readers that I'm actually a risk avoidance educator, and we do talk about avoiding risks- alcohol, drugs, and sex before marriage. My students lovingly refer to me as "sex lady."
Anywho, I'm walking down the hall trying to get all the information together that Paul is giving me. I manage to understand that he is telling me that he is at the ER with Ansley because she had a seizure during his meeting. And, I freeze. I literally felt like my brain stopped communicating with my body. My legs wouldn't move even though I knew that's what had to happen if I was going to even get more information.
I stood there, at the middle school bathroom, while the world continued to blaze around me. Stoic. Unmoving. And I didn't know what to do.
A parent never feels as worthless as when their child needs them, and there isn't a thing they can do to get there in time. My parents have never let me down. When I nearly lost a finger, they drove over an hour to get to the hospital, just to arrive as I was being discharged. When I was in labor, and they were half a country away, they skipped had someone pick them up at another airport 2 hours outside of where they were to fly in because their flight was canceled. And they came straight to the hospital. Even though they couldn't get in to see Ansley.
And several times, just in Ansley's short life, I haven't been there with her when I felt like she needed me the most.
Even if I had left straight away from where I was and headed to the hospital, they would have already been on their way home.
I got home to a confused little girl, in socked feet, a ponytail, and just about the cutest hospital gown I have ever seen. But, it was obvious that something was off.
She stumbled. Words that she used on a regular basis she couldn't come up with. When Nana and Poppa came over, that usual toothy grin didn't spread across her face. My little piggy didn't want to eat.
As happy as I was to see her and have her home, the mommy cat kicked in, and I was sure that the doctors had not checked her well enough. In my mind, all those scans should have been in order. Check her brain, her blood, her heart, anything. Just make sure she's ok.
The hubs informed me that the docs were not concerned about the event. They figured she just spiked a fever quickly and it caused the seizure. But that wasn't good enough for me. Before I even saw her, I had made an appointment with her doctor for the next day. I wanted answers.
Turns out, those were the answers. Her lungs sounded good. Her heart sounded fine. Her ears looked good. Her temperature was normal. And she was back to herself. And I still don't know why.
Apparently, this happens more commonly than people think. But I can assure you, it didn't say that in any of the books I read. It said what to do in the event that a child have a seizure, but it didn't say anything about them being "common." Ultimately, it was determined that she had a cold that turned into an upper respiratory infection that cause the fever to spike quickly.
And, that's that. But, here we are, several weeks out, and I'm still checking her temperature. Regularly. Not with the thermometer. At least, not every time.
The hubs has admitted that he debated not telling me at all, because he knew how I would respond. I tell him that it is much better for him to have told me than for me to have found the bill from the ER in the mailbox.
Every day is a new day. One thing about being the first of your friends to have kids means that you get to experience everything first. The first NICU stay. The first bloody nose. The first serious boo-boo. The first ER trip. Maybe one day, I'll be able to comfort one of my friends if they experience this. But I just hate that I had to be the first to feel like a total failure as a parent.