breathe.

we had quite a scare with my big girl last week. wednesday night, the wee one was wheezing and coughing, pulling breath and since she has a history of pneumonia, we took no chances and papa drove her over to urgent care where she received a couple nebulizer treatments, a chest xray and an inconclusive diagnosis. the ER doctors wanted to keep her overnight, but acquiesced to allow her to leave since she we have a nebulizer at home to give her treatment every four hours, and she had a 9:45 appointment with her primary care doctor. when she got home, she positively had to go up and give her big sister a kiss and hug, and when she did, sadie woke up and they exchanged giggles and kisses and middle of the night giddiness. sadie couldn’t go back to sleep, and needed her rescue inhaler, so i administered the medicine and she climbed into bed with me. in the morning, we woke up and the wee one seemed much better, but sadie needed her rescue inhaler at 7am, and again at 8am. i called the doctors to ask if they could see her as well, and they said there might be a wait, but sure! we headed out in what the news folks were calling a “snowicane” for our doctors office. five minutes into the drive, sadie needed her inhaler again, and once at the doctors office, was wheezing so hard, she vomited. i got her cleaned up, but she could barely talk. i pushed past the receptionist and back to the examination rooms and told the nurse to get her on a nebulizer immediately. they were a little annoyed with me for not waiting my turn until she began vomiting again, and gasping for breath. two more nebulizer treatments and an oral steriod later, and we were on our way to the emergency room at another hospital.

everything was a blur. i had double-o and gus struggling to keep up, running behind me in blustery winds as i raced sadie into the ER. everyone was scared. on the way to the ER, sadie vomited again, and was pale and weak, unable to talk. i ran into the ER and said, “oxygen!” and two nurses got a wheel chair and ushered us into the registration room, and put an oxygen mask on my girl. double-o and gus stood back holding hands, slack-jawed and silent. they took her stats, which weren’t good, but got her settled with an oxygen/inhaled steriod coctail which seemed to slow the urgency of everything and give me time to think. i held sadie’s hand and brushed her hair from her face, kissed her and reassured her. i told the little ones everything was going to be alright and took their coats and settled them in on a chair with a blanket, and they held hands and quietly took it all in. there was a television in the little ER “room” that the nurses insisted we watch, but no one wanted to, and we turned it off and softly sang songs to sadie to cheer her. dispite the oxygen and steriods, she vomited again and her numbers continued to get worse, so my sweet girl who has never had so much as a heel prick was given an IV and catheter and i swear i’ve never seen anyone so brave in my life. she was amazing. her system was flooded with steroids, terrible, toxic steriods, and i couldn’t have been happier, because she could breathe a little easier. i called papa and he was navigating his was through philadelphia mass transit in a snow storm to get to us. i called our dear friends and arranged for one of them to come pick up the littles so they could feel safe and not scared. papa stopped home and brought a few pieces of home–a pillow and blanket, her favorite doll, slippers. i massaged her feet chest and head with essential oils, gave her homeopathic pulsaitilla nigricans and spongia tosta, sang to her and tried to hold the space for her, practicing deep breathing and relaxation techniques that worked to benefit us all. after some time, a nurse came in with admission paperwork, and we were escorted to the pediatric intensive care unit (PICU), where she received round the clock care and attention for the next eight days. she had an IV of steroids for the first four or five days, and was on 24-hour oxygen during that time as well, and was unable to eat for the first four days. on day five, as they stepped down the urgency of her care and her IV was removed, she was permitted food by mouth, and requested that papa bring her some harirra(middle eastern chickpea and lentil soup), some sourdough bread and goat cheese for dinner. the entire time she was in the hospital, she was in such amazing spirits, only really feeling sad or sorry for herself on the days she had to miss ballet or farm school, and even then, it passed quickly, especially after a visit from papa, gus and double-o. we spent most of the time, the time that seemed to stand still, snuggling, reading, crafting and playing games. when she was permitted out of her room to walk the halls as part of her physical therapy, we’d wander down to the “playroom” which was outfitted with a terrific view of the helicopter pad, and watch the medical helicopters take off and land. we read aloud to each other, “sarah, plain and tall” “the lost flower children” and “heidi”. we watched mary poppins, and a little bit of the winter olympics on the television, but mostly, we were quiet. we blew bubbles at her brother and sister ass part of her physical therapy, and they shrieked loudly enough to be scolded by the nurses, but we were making the most of a challenging situation. i never left her side, except to use the bathroom. what a luxury, to spend all of that time together, but what terrible circumstance. she is brave, wise and strong. i hope that is what she takes away from this experience, i know i’ve got a few  gray hairs thanks to the ordeal!