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Nurse Stories, Part Nine: Please Spare Her, Lord--It's Christmas! (By Louisiana M. Sandusky, R.N.) by Karen Lynn Vidra, The Texas Tornado
Wednesday, July 14, 2004
Rated "PG" by the Author.
Near-tragedy strikes on Christmas Day of the year 2000 as Louisiana Sandusky learns that one of her own children has been rushed to the E.R. in critical condition. Her then eight-year-old daughter, Ronee', was felled by a premature stroke that nearly killed her. She also suffered a severe asthma attack only hours earlier.
If I could have had any warning, any inkling on to what was to happen that day, I would have never known what was about to take place. Now that I look back on it, I wish there had been some sign as to what was to happen to one of my very own children; and because of it, her life was changed forever.
It was Christmas morning of the year 2000, nearly four years ago. The children started off their customary waking up earlier than everyone else in the house because they knew that Santa Claus had come during the night, and they knew that he had left wonderful presents for them. They knew that whatever was there under the lit-up Christmas tree was exciting, and they couldn't wait to get their little hands onto the wrapped, brightly-shining packages.
It was also the eighth birthday of one of our own children, Ronee'; to her, Christmas was a combination of excitement and joy, and she always managed to get something extra special for her Christmas Birthday. She had just gotten over a rough year, healthwise, and she was doing better, and she looked healthier now than she had in months.
Well, the children arose; Bill and I were awakened at six in the morning by the sound of childish squeals and the sound of little feet pounding their way towards the livingroom; and then the cries of "HE CAME, HE CAME! Oh, Mama, he CAME! Santa Claus has come; and he left presents for us!" We knew that we wouldn't be going back to bed, so we sleepily made our way to the livingroom; and the sight of clamoring, laughing children and the brightly-colored packages under a sparkling, brightly-lit Christmas tree brought smiles to our faces. Even Ronee' was smiling, and she seemed quite happy, and we were thankful to God for getting her through a rough year.
But our joy was tempered when Ronee' announced that she had a bad headache. Yet she didn't seem too concerned about it; she was acting as she usually did, and she didn't seem to be bothered by it. Yet we could see the pain in her eyes and the furrowing of her brow; but we gave her some junior Tylenol to help the headache; and she went right back to delving into the packages.
The kids got some wonderful things that day: clothes, socks, shoes, money, even bikes, toys, and some musical instruments. They were happy with what they had received, and they were enjoying the feel of new toys and clothes in their hands as they marvelled at their new gifts; and they were busy showing each other their treasaures. They were giggling and laughing, and Bill was taping the entire affair on his video camera. Snow was flying outside our picture window in fat, fluffy flakes, and it was a winter wonderland; snow blanketed the entire scene, and it was absolutely breathtaking. We couldn't have asked for a more perfect beginning to what promised to be a happy day for us.
But about three in the afternoon, as we were to sit for our dinner, Ronee' started wheezing, and even after a few hits from her inhaler, it didn't seem to be helping. Her breathing still sounded pretty bad, and she wasn't getting any relief from the medicine. She was having another one of her asthma attacks, and from the way things were going, it was obvious that she was having a severe spell of her asthma. I had Bill get the oxygen, and after he hooked her up to it, I had him call for the paramedics for an ambulance, just in case her breathing didn't improve. It didn't. By now, she was turning pale in the face, and her eyes registered fear, even panic, as she fought desperately to get in a deep breath to her lungs. I could see her heart beating frantically underneath her shirt, and I could tell that she was scared out of her wits.
The ambulance came not even ten minutes later. Soon, the paramedics were tending to Ronee', trying to ease her breathing difficulties. She was lying on the gurney, with the head raised to alleviate the breathing difficulty she was experiencing, and they had an oxygen mask placed over her mouth and nose. She had an I.V. line put into one hand, and they were checking her heart and her pulse, as well as her temperature and blood pressure. Everything seemed fairly normal, but her blood pressure, which normally should have ran about 90/60 for a child, was onimously higher than normal: it was well above 150 over 120; this was probably why she had such a bad headache. Soon, they took her out to the back of the ambulance and loaded her in. Ronee' was then taken to the hospital, with me following close behind in the van, while Bill stayed at home with the rest of the children.
At the hospital, Ronee' was immediately taken to the E.R., where she was immediately examined. Her blood pressure was still running very high, the doctors said, and he seemed quite concerned; but at least her breathing difficulties had stopped, and she seemed to be breathing much easier. "It was nothing more than a severe asthma attack, and the reason why her blood pressure was so high was probably because she was very scared; fear sometimes does that", I remember Dr. Emmons telling me after he had seen her; but she would be admitted to the hospital and would be kept under close observation. She would then probably be released the next day and would go home, he told me. He didn't seem too overly concerned.
About an hour later, I saw my daughter in the room, and she was sleeping (or she appeared to be), and she looked pretty good. Her cheeks were rather red, and she seemed drowsy when I tried to talk to her, but I didn't think anything was wrong. Her blood pressure was being monitored, as was her heart and breathing, and while her breathing and heart rate were fairly normal, her blood pressure still remained high, and it was still over 150 over 120. That concerned me, and also the doctors and nurses. I kissed her, and I told her that I would be back later, as I was going to get something to eat and then call home, to tell Bill about what was going on, and I left to go to the cafeteria. She was still on the oxygen, and the medications seemed to be doing their job in alleviating her breathing difficulties, and it appeared as though the crisis had finally passed. Ronee' would be okay.
It was while I was returning to the room when I heard a call go out over the loudspeaker. It was a Pediatric Code Blue; some kid was in trouble, I remember thinking. I then turned into the hallway that led to my daughter's room, and I saw a whole flurry of activity. Doctors and nurses were milling in the hall, and I saw Dr. Emmons, who was mouthing "It's your daughter", to me. I saw doctors and nurses going in and out of the room, and machines being pushed into the room. That was when I got scared. Very scared. I ran to the doorway, and I looked in, only to see my daughter's bed being surrounded by doctors and nurses; and what I could see of her body, it was shaking uncontrollably on the bed. She was having some sort of seizure, and it scared the living hell out of me. I heard someone calling for Dr. Stryker, a neurologist, to come to Room 4120, because he suspected that "something neurological was going on with my kid", and all I kept thinking at the time was, "why did a NEUROLOGIST need to see my daughter when she only had an asthma attack?" It didn't seem to make any sense.
I prayed and waited for over an hour after this happened, and I was worried sick over my daughter. I remember saying to the Lord, "Please spare her, Lord..it's CHRISTMAS!" over and over again, crying my eyes out as I did so. Whatever was going on was serious, and I had no idea as to whether she was going to survive or die; and I started crying in spite of myself. The terrifying image of her shaking body and her bed being surrounded by doctors and nurses still played in my mind, and I was worried sick as to what was going on. I called Bill, and I told him to pray because Ronee' was dying, and right now I had no clue as to what was going on, and I told him that she was being checked now by the hospital's top neurosurgeon. I told him I had no idea of when I would be home, but to continue to pray for our daughter, as she needed help from Above, to get through whatever was going on with her.
About seven that evening, maybe seven thirty, Dr. Emmons, along with Dr. Stryker, appeared. They both looked tired and spent, but they told me that Ronee' was still alive. That was a huge relief to me, but they told me that she had suffered a stroke and she was now in Neuro ICU, in extremely critical condition, and she was now completely paralyzed and was now in a coma. At the news, I cried. It was the worst possible news a parent could ever receive, short of finding out that their child has died. There was a good chance that Ronee' could die, but only time would tell whether she would make it, and until she emerged from her coma, there was no way of knowing whether she had any damage done to her brain or her physical body as a direct result of the stroke.
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It turned out that, despite the severity of the situation, Ronee' did NOT die, and she DID survive. She was paralyzed on her one side, but therapy soon took care of that, and she also had speech and occupational therapy, to further help in her recovery from the stroke; and it was several months later when all but a few minor telltale signs had all but disappeared. She soon looked like her normal self prior to the stroke, and she was soon acting like her normal self; the only evidences left from her stroke were emotional (she was very easily frustrated, and she would cry when one least expected it), and she also had some residual "numbness and tingling" in her one side; and her one hand was still pretty weak. She could now walk again without the walker, and as each day, each month went by, she grew stronger and able to do more things for herself; and soon, she was her usually cheerful self again. She no longer had the lopsided grin or the masklike expression on her face, and she could move her one side again without any apparent signs of residual paralysis; it was as though she had never had the stroke, she looked that good. It was amazing what had happened and what had taken place. Our daughter had survived a lifethreatening medical crisis, and she was bound and determined to overcome the devastating effects of it.
It has been nearly four years since that horrible Christmas day we would love to forget, and she hasn't had any more problems physically or neurologically, and she also hasn't been on blood pressure medications in over two years now. She has just about fully recovered from her stroke, and she can now talk about it and tell other people that if she has survived a stroke and its effects, then by God, then they can too, and she has been an advocate and an encourager to those who haven't fared as well, and she has brought the awareness of strokes to others in ways she (or I) would have never thought possible! She is the 2004 local spokesperson for the American Heart Association, and her life now has been nothing short of a Miracle!
Rovella is a beautiful woman with a cold heart whom blames herself for an unfortunate old family secret that is literally ruining her life. This secret impedes a gorgeous woman from having happiness in her childhood, and throughout her life. Dark sec
If I could have had any warning, any inkling on to what was to happen that day, I would have never known what was about to take place. Now that I look back on it, I wish there had been some sign as to what was to happen to one of my very own children; and because of it, her life was changed forever.
