It never ceases to amaze me what we remember - and what we don’t. I have no recollection of getting out of the ambulance. I just remember that Dylan was in the ER and I was standing at a desk, a nurse asking me questions. I fumbled through my purse to get Dylan’s insurance info and attempted to explain what had happened in the hotel room. The truth was, I wasn’t sure what had happened. I just knew something serious was going on.
I made my way to the ER room Dylan was in. He was awake, yet out of it - remarkably unaware of all the activity happening around him. I noticed his favorite Diet Coke pajama pants had been cut off him and were in the trash. So much was being hooked up - IV, heart, oxygen, blood pressure. I made my way to a space so I was out of the way, but could stroke his head and reassure him. His eyes were glued to mine.
His oxygen was low and kept dipping and a mask had been placed on his face to keep it up, but his heart rate appeared to be stabilizing. A COVID test had been done and results were a few hours out. He had no fever, cold, cough - I couldn’t imagine he had COVID. A Cat Scan had been ordered. He seemed fairly settled and then was suddenly throwing up relentlessly. Two nurses and myself got him through those horrendous moments and settled - again.
The ER itself was particularly loud and busy. Someone had come in drunk and kept leaving their room - security was called and stepped in. Another elderly gal was shouting down the hall - “I can’t breathe! I’m dying!” The commotion and energy of all occurring beyond the closed door could be felt. I knew it was going to be a long night.
Rob and the kids had followed the ambulance to the ER and were in the waiting room. I hadn’t actually seen them, but we were texting and calling. Finally, I insisted they go back to the hotel. Dylan was stable, for the moment, and the exhaustion from the day was real. An attempt to sleep after such a big day needed to be made and I would call Rob with any changes.
The minutes and hours ticked by...slowly. The Cat Scan had been completed, as well as a chest x-ray. His oxygen continued to run low. Sometime around midnight I was told he was positive for COVID. I was shocked. He had no symptoms.
The ER had finally quieted down. Dylan was sleeping soundly. My body ached as I sat in the world’s most uncomfortable chair beside him. It had been a full day at Frontier City and now the ER. I recall looking at my watch - it was just after 3 AM. Then suddenly, it happened. Dylan was having a Grand-Mal seizure. I bolted up, opened the door and yelled for help.
Nurses and doctors surrounded his bed side within moments. He was placed on his side. A nurse said I could stay or go. I stayed. I always stay. I stayed when Savannah had her heart tubes pulled from her chest after surgery - both times. I stayed for all my children’s stitches. I stay and I PRAY. Seizure meds were given. The episode lasted 3-4 minutes. I stared in disbelief. I knew about seizures. They are ugly. Yet they had never been a part of OUR life. I suddenly knew that what I had witnessed in the hotel room hours before had been a seizure. It hadn’t been as intense as this one, but I knew there were different types. I had a pit in my stomach.
Up until now, everything seemed up in the air. Not anymore. He was being admitted, but he likely wouldn’t get transferred to a traditional room until mid-morning. I called Rob. He was back at the hospital before I knew it. It was now after 4 AM. I finally crumbled in Rob’s arms. I had been awake for nearly 24 hours. I was completely spent - physically, mentally, emotionally. Rob insisted I go back to the hotel. He had semi-slept for a few hours, it was my turn to at least try. I couldn’t imagine leaving Dylan, yet I could barely stand.
Rob tagged in. I tagged out. I found the car in the hospital parking lot. I managed to punch in the hotel destination in the map program. I’ve had a few conversations with God through the years - we had one as I drove. I understood Down syndrome. I understood Jeremy’s hormone disorder. I understood Savannah’s heart defect. I understood Lincoln’s ear microtia. But SEIZURES? They are a BEAST. They are UNPREDICTABLE. I was scared. I was a deer in the headlights. God needed to show up - FAST.
I was back at the hotel. Lincoln and Savannah were sleeping soundly. I scanned the room. It was a disaster from the 911 chaos. My eyes landed on our Six Flags reusable cups. My heart sank. I didn’t know what the next few hours held, let alone the next few days. Every emotion consumed me as I climbed into bed. I laid my phone on the pillow, in case Rob called. I prayed it wouldn’t ring - I couldn’t take any more hits. My red head had to be ok.