I don't believe that my son could survive something as deadly as bacterial meningitis, but he has done exactly that.  It's been nearly 72 hours since he first became sick before arriving home from school; it's been an overwhelming, incredible ride, one that I personally would not recommend for anybody.

Currently, Colton, who is 10, is in the PICU, fighting for all its worth.  He had surgery earlier this afternoon to remove both legs; the infection was just too great and if he had kept both limbs he would have, more than likely, died.  It was and is that serious of a deal.  We are trying to deal with the loss of our son's legs; it's a very hard situation, but we were the ones who made the painful decision for him to have this done, in order to save his life.

He came through the surgery with flying colors, but the danger isn't past.  Not by a long shot.  Anything can still happen.  I am hoping it doesn't; we are trying to keep optimistic, but it isn't easy at all.

Colton was feeling fine the other day when he went to school; there was no warning whatsoever that he would end up getting sick and then transported to the hospital by ambulance just a few short hours later.  He looked and acted just like his normal self.  Then we got a call from his school, for someone to come pick him up from the clinic, as he was extremely nauseated and had thrown up several times already.  I told the nurse on the phone that I would be the one to come get Colton, as Belinda, my wife, was at work.

As promised, I picked our son up.  He was very pale and was sweating profusely.  He looked rather green around the gills and was doing everything in his own power not to vomit in the car.  Luckily, we made it home without incident, but as soon as we stepped into the doorway of our house, he let go.  Threw up all over.  He then fell to the floor; scared me stupid.

He got up, where he managed to crawl over to the couch.  He was shivering violently.  When I touched him, I was shocked to discover that Colton was burning up with fever.  Upon taking his temperature, I was shocked to discover that it was over 103 degrees: it was 104.6, way too high for anybody, but especially a young boy.

I bundled our son up in a cocoon of blankets; he continued to shiver violently; his teeth were chattering like castanets.  Sweat continued to pour down his face and his eyes were glassy in appearance.  He definitely looked like he wasn't feeling well.

I decided to call for the paramedics; there was no telling what could happen if the fever continued to rise.  Not even ten minutes later, the paramedics were banging on our door, asking to be let in.  They wheeled a stretcher bed in and loaded Colton on it; they covered him up with more blankets and wheeled him out to the waiting ambulance in the driveway.  Colton would have normally resisted, but he was too weak and far too sick to even take notice.

~End of part one!~