One of Ronee's health scares, as witnessed by one of her sisters. This was written at the time she had her stroke; she was eight years old at the time.
I don't think I will EVER forget Christmas nearly 3 years ago, when my little sister, Ronee', was felled by a stroke.
It was a perfect Christmas morning: the lights were twinkling in the half-light of early morning, the fireplace was blazing away cheerily, and myriads of presents covered half of the livingroom floor. We kids woke up early, and when we went downstairs to see if Santa had come, we were pleasantly surprised at the sight of all the gifts littering the floor of the livingroom.
It was not only Christmas morning: it was also Ronee' 's eighth birthday. She happened to be born right ON Christmas Day, so this day was especially special for her.
We soon started opening our gifts as soon as mom and daddy gave the Signal; and pretty soon, our cries of delight filled the livingroom. Ronee' was happy, too, but she was rather quiet, which is unlike her. She said she had a headache, and she didn't feel good; but we just assumed that it was from eating too many Christmas cookies the night before. She did manage to smile when she was presented with her "big" gift, which was a brand new Martin brand Cajun accordion, from her grandpa Armand.
We then played with our toys for a few hours, and then we had dinner at three o'clock; but then Ronee' started wheezing all of a sudden; and it seemed as though her breathing got worse as the minutes ticked by. We knew she needed help, and so we called for the paramedics. By the time the paramedics had gotten to the house, Ronee' was awfully still, and her face was noticeably blue in color. Our Christmas joy had turned sour in a matter of minutes. It wasn't long after we called when we finally heard the bone-chilling siren of an ambulance off in the distance, and it got louder and louder. The ambulance then came into view, and it was a big blue one, as blue as the sky. I'll never forget the color of the ambulance.
The paramedics got to our house about six minutes later, and they were soon working on Ronee', trying to get her breathing again; and they were most concerned with her blood pressure; they were saying it was running abnormally high. It was something like 140/100, which is very high for an eight-year-old child. (A normal eight-year-old's blood pressure, according to maman, is something like 90/60.) She was then placed into the rear of the ambulance, and was taken to Nashville Memorial Hospital, which is the closest hospital to our house.
At the hospital, Ronee' was taken to the E.R. while we waited in the waiting room. We were all worried and scared for our sister, and we didn't know WHAT was going on with her or what was happening to her. For all we knew, she was dying, and the very thought terrified us. We could hear Dr. Emmons being paged over the hospital loudspeaker, and then, a few minutes later, we heard Dr. Stryker, who is a neurologist, being paged. That puzzled us because we were wondering why a neurologist was being called when Ronee' only had an asthma attack.
Later, Dr. Emmons came up to us, and he said that Ronee' was in very bad shape; he suspected something neurological was going on. He said they got her breathing crisis under control, but she was still not responding as well as she should, and this was why he had Dr. Stryker examine her. He said that she was now in the Pediatric Intensive Care ward, resting comfortably, and that we could finally go and see her.
Ronee' lay in a bed, her head turned to the side; and she had tubes in her small body. I.V. lines were in both arms, and EKG leads were attached to her chest; and the blanket came up to her waist. Oxygen prongs rested in her nostrils, and she had an endotracheal tube still inserted in her mouth. Her cheeks were flushed, as though she was suffering from a fever, and her eyes were closed, her lashes resting against her too-red cheeks. (Dr. Emmons said this was due, in part, to her blood pressure, which was still rather elevated.) She looked, at best, pretty bad.
Suddenly, without warning, Ronee' started shaking, as her body went into the beginnings of a seizure; and Dr. Emmons rushed to her side as a nurse pulled the drapes around her bed and shooed us out of the room. The alarms were going off, and soon, we heard the Code call going across the loudspeaker, announcing a possible Code Blue with a child. We soon found ourselves in the Intensive Care waiting room, wondering what in the heck was going on with Ronee'.
(Later)
Dr. Emmons came up to where we were sitting, and he wanted to talk with us. The news he had was pretty bad, to say the least. He said that Ronee' had suffered a stroke, and she was presently unconscious and was paralyzed. He didn't know if the stroke was a major one or not, and he didn't know whether Ronee' would live or die as a result of suffering this stroke. He also didn't know whether she would be damaged or come from the stroke relatively unscathed. Only time would tell, he said. We were stunned by the news.
We couldn't believe that a child of only eight years of age could have something like a stroke; strokes were supposed to only happen to old people, and Ronee' was just a child. It didn't seem to make any sense whatsoever.
your stories are so compelling, so dramatic, that one can't be helped but be drawn in...well written write...can't wait to read more! (((HUGS))) and love, karla. :)
Suspenseful and close to home, Rain of Deception 2 will leave you in Tears. Much like Part 1, this will shocking sequel will keep you on the edge of your fingertips.
A poignant story about letting go of a narcissist in your life. Have you ever been attacked FULL force by a narcissist? It's the closest thing to being stabbed over and over in the back.
I don't think I will EVER forget Christmas nearly 3 years ago, when my little sister, Ronee', was felled by a stroke.
