Monday July 1, 2002
That is the major descriptor for me right now.
We had an episode with my daughter this past weekend. She passed by me at the computer at 6:30 Friday morning, complaining of the worst cramps she had ever had...they woke her up, she said. Then she headed up the stairs. (Computer room and her bedroom are both in the basement.) It took me just a moment to register all that in the middle of my newest behind schedule grad class project. But when I did, I remembered these things: it was too early for her to be up, a time about 6 years ago when she passed out, that she passed out at the top of these basement stairs, and that she landed in the little bathroom next to the stairs with her head wrenched behind the commode. I don't know which thought arrived first.
I ran up the stairs.
With totally white flesh and lips, she was trying to get some water and ibuprofen. I suggested she sit down and I would bring it to her. She sat down and as I looked over at her, she put her head between her legs. I left the water and pills and went over to her, just as she started to slide forward into a corner (why is it always a corner??) on her head. So I grabbed her by the hips in the chair to ease her down, but when she felt me she stood up with starey eyes and said in a faint voice, "mommy".
She hasn't called me that since she was 3.
All of a sudden she was dead weight and we were locked in a bear hug which meant I couldn't get her down without dropping her. Hubby arrived with a head full of sleep and helped me to get her to the ground where she began to have seizure like activity...still staring off into the universe somewhere with fully dilated eyes. As Hubby watched, her eyes rolled back in her head.
When she returned to us and we could move her, we moved her to the couch, covered her. I got her the IB and juice for the cramps and for the fact that it was a low blood sugar time of the day. Then I called the answering service for her Dr. The service called back, not with advice on procedures from the Dr., but to report that her on call associate said to take her immediately to ER.
On the way to ER, she felt sick and asked for us to stop. She had been reclining, and as she sat up and put one foot out the door to be sick, she again passed out and went rigid...I had a hard time getting her leg back in so we could shut the door and rush her to ER. I worried about an ankle all the way rolled to the side that she was pushing on. It looked broken.
At the ER, it was VERY busy and chaotic, but they took over with her and the Dr. there was very reassuring. He took some blood, and reported that her prolactin levels were high so he wanted to run tests to check for epilepsy.
Meanwhile there were two deaths in the ER.
We waited and waited and I am planning what to ask the Dr. before we take her home so I know what to do and what to watch for. I have a million questions. Hubby has a million phone calls to cancel our morning lives, make sure we followed procedures for the HMO, and to keep his business on track. We pace, and pace. I tell him this is the first time since our oldest was born that we have ever brought a child into the ER. No wonder we feel like we don't know what we are doing. We don't! He finally decided to dash out and make one appointment and come back for us when he was done.
I hear a voice on a phone, "Hello, Fourth Floor?. I have a patient that will need one of your beds. She is 17 (NO!!!) and her Dr's name is ____________. (NO!!) Her name is Lydia…. I thought *I* was going to pass out.
After another hour or so, she was admitted, I felt inside like I should be committed, but remained calm on the outside, isn't that a miracle? When her dad got back, we dashed home to get her things to stay in the hospital, and to take care of our injured dog. Daddy dropped me off in the driveway and squealed the tires getting out of the driveway back to the hospital, while I packed, made phone calls and walked the dog. That is all in a blur. I know I didn't clean up the kitchen, because the things we had gotten out, including the open bottle of Ibuprophen were still there when we got home.
A neurologist was assigned. The best part of the whole stay is that the neurologist happens to be one of her good friend's dad, so she was in very delicate and thorough daddy hands. HE put us completely at ease, and gave us high five results after each and every test. ("You have a beautiful brain!") But it took all day Friday and most of Saturday to get the final results ("I am going to put your tests on exhibit for what normal brain functioning should look like") and he gave us a very interesting diagnoses.
Turns out to be a vasovagal syncopal seizure...and it is an inherited response type to pain, or any perceived trauma (by the body systems)...which explains why her dad falls over when he cuts finger or toe nails, or why her uncle passed out waiting in an ER waiting room for a friend. All of her body's defenses were transferred to her stomach for the cramps. The seizure like activity came because she stood up in the midst of that response, with blood flow taken away from brain function.
Because she can feel it coming on, and now knows how to treat it (she was trying when she first sat down with her head down...next time she will lay down!) she did not lose her license or anything over the deal. Doctor Dad wants her to stop in so he can show her all her pictures (he gets way excited about brains) but he was on his way, he explained when he stopped in, to see his twin sons play in a band. He described THEIR recent V-V response...right there at the hospital when they came to visit a friend who had just been in a bad car wreck a couple weeks ago. First, one twin walked into her room and went down immediately, and then the other who followed him in, landed on top of him moments later. Dr. Dad was called upstairs by some nurses ("Why? I am a neurologist," he said, "they don't need me up there." "Just come up, quickly." They said.) to find his 2 fifteen year old strappin' sons sprawled out on the hall floor. "Get up!" he said. "So much for Dr. bedside manner when it is your own 2 boys," he told us sheepishly.
Another part of the story is that in the evening, my in-laws came to visit. On their way in, my mother-in-law fell backwards out of the pickup and landed on her head on the pavement, feet still in the truck. Sitting in our room, she started to feel badly, so we took her down to ER. The same crew was finishing up their 12 hour shift…the one we started for them. They all spoke to me, patted me on the back etc, as they took care of MIL. Her CAT came back normal, so they gave her some medicine and sent her on her way. Sounds like a quick process, but I bet we were there another hour and a half at least.
Anyway, we are home. I got a stay on my project from my prof, but it isn't long enough that I shouldn't be working on it as I sit here and write…
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