Yesterday was the worst day I have had in quite sometime. Philip woke up early, just before 7, and cried a little. I laid in bed thinking shhhhh, go back to sleep, and he did. I got up about 7:20, and did my normal morning mommy chores, awaiting my children's rise at 8AM. Usually, you can set your watch by Philip. He rises promptly at 8. Helen, on the other hand, would sleep later, but for her brother's incessant noise making when he gets up. And so I waited, sitting on my bed, reading. Very peaceful.
But peaceful soon turned to too quiet. It was 8:15, no sound from the kids. 8:20, 8:30...At 8:35 Helen stirred. I was glad! I went in and found her sitting on her bed looking curiously at Philip's crib. I slowly walked over to find Philip awake, yet completely unresponsive, just lying on his back. I reached out for him, but he just looked at me. Now, understand that generally, when I walk into that room at 8:03, Philip is standing at the end of his crib, jumping. I usually stand in front of him and jump, too. Then he reaches out and says, "Down, Mama!" Thus begins our morning, or has for the past two months. Until yesterday. Yesterday, he just laid there. I left him, hoping he was just sleepy, while I went to the closet and retrieved our "today clothes", dressed Helen and sent her to use the bathroom. Then I went over to pick up my son.
It was like picking up a ragdoll. His limbs were flacid. He was semi-catatonic, eyes glazed and only at about half mast. When I laid him down to change his diaper, he fell asleep. I dressed his limp little body and carried him in to my bed. I tried to hold him, but I had to lay him down. It was too weird. Like holding a body, not a child. And while I realize how that sounds, one cannot possibly understand the quiet whirlwind of emotions I was enduring. You see, I KNEW he was in the postictal period, the period following a seizure when the body sort of shuts down. But it has been nine months...NINE MONTHS since he has had a seizure. I was in a sort of state of shock, but more than that, I was in a state of oppressive guilt. He had cried just before 7!! That is when it had happened. And all I wished was that he would go back to sleep. Well, I got my wish. I didn't go to him. His little body had been through something awful, and I didn't go to him. What if he was scared, or what if it hurt? And I just wanted an extra fifteen minutes of sleep. Awful, awful guilt. I called his pediatrician, I called Luke, I called my mom. Luke came home, and we took him to the ER.
He is fine now. His bloodwork came back normal, but for low CO2 levels, consistent with a seizure. They ran a battery of tests and sent them to his neurologist in Salt Lake. Oddly enough, we already have an appointment in Salt Lake on Monday. I guess the timing couldn't have been better. But overall, I cannot explain what this is like. No one can tell me why this happens. No one can say why yesterday, after nine months of nothing, he had the biggest one yet. No one can tell me why his medication suddenly seemed to stop working. They can run every C-Scan, MRI, EEG and other test in the book, and they cannot tell me why my NORMAL, functional, well-developed, even SMART little boy sometimes gives in to this...this sickness. And no one can tell me how to help. Did you know if a child has a seizure, you are to clear the area around them, roll them on their side and then just leave them alone to let it run its course!! Just stand aside and watch it happen. It is awful. But, he is better. He is fine. This morning we stood face to face and jumped when I went in to get him at 8AM on he money. It was a good feeling.
Oh, and last night after we got home from the hospital, I naturally did not feel like cooking, so I went out to grab some dinner...and got a ticket. It was a nice ending to a really nice day.