They're scary. And hard to be in. And hard to watch your baby fighting for his life in. They're not set up for small children. They have to try to use an adult blood pressure cuff until the fire man first responder guy gets there and has actual paediatric sized equipment and knowledge.
So the beginning. Well, not quite the beginning. The beginning happened when he was 4 months old. But the beginning of THIS story (oh please let there not be many more stories after this) starts with our Saturday Christmas celebration. Matthews parents are snow birds, so we have Christmas in November every year. That was Saturday. As usual for Christmas supper we had lasagna (strange, yes, but also delicious.) and there was Cesar salad and garlic bread smothered in butter and all sorts of other wonderful treats that pose a big big threat to my little man's life. Matt's mom had made Bravo his own pasta dish, but I guess there was just too much around. Matt and I were being careful and cautious, but not everybody else there necessarily realised just how serious Bravo's allergies are. That horrible September day was over 2 years ago and Matt and I are really the only ones who have the memories of that burned in our heads.
Anyways. Bravo was eating a bit and then going to play and came back to the table to nibble and then he came and sat on my lap and had a little bit to eat. Then he threw up. And not just a little bit. It kept coming. More and more and more. My pants were soaked. My shirt was soaked. I could have rung them out. The chair pad was soaked, the floor was a giant puddle, some of the projectile vomit landed in a drinking glass and filled it half way. My plate was full, the table was covered. I thought there was a lot of vomit when he was 4 months. Nope. THIS was a lot of vomit. Right away my mind went to "what did you eat??". I asked if he wanted a bath, he whimpered yes. We got him in the tub (and Matt dug out the Christmas pyjamas I had just received so that I could be less vomit-covered) and then the hives started. All down his chest and back and face and arms. I went to call health links. I think I got about 2 sentences out with her when Matt and Bravo came into the room and Matt was trying to tell me that Bravo was wheezing. All I noticed was Bravos face was swelling. So I hung up on health links, told my mother in law to call 911 and I got the epi pen out. Nobody prepares you for that. For holding your shaking scared baby in your lap while you stick them with a needle. I had been taught how to use them, but my mind went blank. Matthew reminded me what to do and I did it. He screamed. About a million years later the ambulance finally showed up (they say it was 9-11 minutes, but I don't think I believe them. Do you know how LONG 9 -11 minutes is???) and we met them outside and got Bravo in. He looped back into anaphalctic shock and they gave him more epinephrine. And then a lot of Ventolin and oxygen to force his airways open. And then we rushed to the hospital and went into the same horrible room as last time. Matt and I were terrified, not just of what was happening currently, but of all the memories flooding back of that horrible night 2 years ago. Thankfully there wasn't the flurry of activity that had previously happened in the resuscitation room. They were just making sure he was stabilized before we went to the observation room for the next 6 hours.
The next 6 hours were long, but not as long as that last hour had been. Bravo went crazy from a combination of too many drugs and up way way way too late. he didn't go to sleep until 2 in the morning when we got home. He was climbing the walls in the hospital room and the only 5 minutes he sat still was when a kind nurse gave him a Popsicle to encourage small sips of liquid.
The ambulance still shocks me. I'm glad they were there. I'm so very thankful we live in a time and place where there is epi-pens and ambulances and paramedics and Ventolin and needles and IVs. Or I would not have my beautiful Bravo with me. But seriously. They had the heart tracing machine that they said only works 50% of the time. Fantastic. They had 1 (ONE!!!) paediatric IV starter. So they had to make sure they didn't mess it up or they couldn't have given him his much needed IV. The first two paramedics had no clue what to do with a 2 year old. It wasn't until a fire first responder got there with specalized training in small kids that they were able to really help him. Why do they not have paediatric equipment on each and every ambulance??? And I tell you, I thought that 2 year olds were big. Nope. When you see a tiny 2 year old strapped to an ambulance bed meant for adults with his eyes rolling back into his head while getting another shot of epinephrine you realize just how tiny a 2 year old really is. I sang to him and held his hand. He was a trooper. He even didn't fight the mask because I told him it made him sound like Darth Vader.
I'm still struggling to process these events, but that's what happened. Merry Christmas.
hugs to you brave mommy!
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