A young mother writes of the time her youngest child, a little boy, nearly drownded after he fell into the family pool and how the paramedics worked to save his life.
I look at my little son, Hezzi (Hezekiel), sitting by the window in his wheelchair, staring at probably nothing more than a small dust bunny, and at once my heart is full of incredible sadness and despair as I once again relive the moment that brought little Hezzi to this fate.
It happened last summer, when we were still living in Madison, Tennessee, which is just outside Nashville. It was a beautiful, partly cloudy summer day in June, about this time, and we had gotten a new swimming pool installed in our backyard, off our patio. We (we being my husband, myself, and our three children, Hezekiel--our youngest; he was just two then--, Hanna--five--, and Hermione--seven--) were all excited, and we couldn't wait to try out our new pool.
We had eaten supper and had waited an hour; and then we went out to the pool. Abe (my husband) was watching Hezzi, and the two girls and myself had gotten into our bathing suits and gotten into the water; we were soon enjoying the feel of the cool water on our skin and slicing through the water like a school of fish, when we heard Abe yell, "Hezekiel Michael, get back here!" and then the peals of a very young child's laughter. Apparently, Hezekiel had managed to escape once again, and nothing delighted him more than running around, free, in the family backyard. He was naked, which told me that he had been in the bathtub and was having his bath.
Hanna and Hermione laughed at the sight of their baby brother's bare little butt hanging out, for all the world to see; for some reason, they found this to be highly amusing. I managed to crack a smile too; for such a young child, Hezekiel was full of life, and he always wanted to be on some sort of adventure.
But before I could stop him, I soon found Hezzi toddling around the pool. I told him to stay back, but he just stopped and looked at me. I guess he wanted to be with me because before I could stop him, he was soon in the water; and he went under. He tried to come back up, but the harder he tried and the harder he fought to stay on the surface of the water, the faster he sunk to the bottom; and soon, he wasn't struggling any longer as he finally sank to the bottom of the pool.
"SHIT!" I heard Abe yell. He dove into the water, and soon, he had our youngest child in his arms. To our horror, Hezzi was limp, and he wasn't moving. We got scared because we thought he had drownded. That was when I had Hermione, the oldest, call 9-1-1 after I gave her basic instructions on what to say when she picked up the phone, and I had her and her younger sister, Hanna, stay by the door to watch for the ambulance when it came.
Meanwhile, Abe and I stayed at the side of our youngest child, and we were both crying as Abe tried to see if he could get our son to wake up, but to no avail: Hezzi remained limp and unresponsive.
Before long, the paramedics came, and they were soon working on Hezekiel, trying to get him to start breathing again. They slipped a little silver tube into his mouth, and they were soon breathing for him, as the little boy wasn't breathing. They were calling out his name, telling him to start breathing again, but to no avail: Hezzi continued to lie there, unresponding to their commands. At best, he looked like he was dying--or was already dead, and it scared the living hell out of all of us.
It wasn't long before Hezzi was strapped onto a waiting stretcher and was quickly loaded up into the rear of the still waiting ambulance. He was still not breathing, and his color looked bad. His skin was pearl-grey in color, and his little lips and fingernail beds were a bright shade of blue, which meant that he wasn't getting any oxygen. Suddenly, I heard the one paramedic say, "C.P.R.! STAT! The kid is asystole!" (asystole meaning no pulse or no respirations. He was clinically dead.)
Soon, the paramedics were working on my little son, one pushing on his small chest with his hands in a rhythmic manner, and the other breathing for him by squeezing a small, blue rubber bag attached to a breathing tube every few seconds; and they both looked concerned and scared at the same time. I was in the front of the ambulance, along with the driver, but I could see what was going on in the back, and it frightened me. I was so sure that my youngest child was going to die before we even got to the hospital.
In the E.R., Hezzi was taken to a waiting table, and he was still being worked on. He was also still not breathing and he still had no pulse. He was soon being attended to, and lines, tubes, and other monitoring equipment were soon attached to him. He was surrounded by a sea of doctors and nurses, each one with a specific job to do, and the very air was full of tension. There was not one smile to be found: the child on the table was in grave danger, and it took all of their knowledge and knowhow to try to resuscitate him back into breathing again.
I was sitting in the waiting area, praying and hoping for a miracle for our son; I was never so scared in my life. I was so sure that Hezekiel was going to die--or worse, survive, but end up brain-damaged, blind, deaf, or paralyzed as a result of the near-drowning.
_!_!_!_!_!_!_!_!_!_!_!_!_!_!_!_!_!_!_!_!
It turned out that little Hezekiel Michael Rosenberg DID survive the near-drowning, but not without a price: he was now hopelessly brain damaged and now had cerebral palsy as a result. He was now confined to a wheelchair, unable to walk or talk or do even the most basic things for himself. His mother's worst fears had unfortunately come true , and because of this, her life (and her family's) were now changed forever. He was in the hospital for months after the accident, and he now was back home, damaged and changed forever. Yet, his parents refused to give up hope that he would recover, and they held onto this wish with all their might.
Hezekiel is now three years old, and he requires total in-home nursing care. Doctors aren't very optimistic about his chance for a full recovery, but his parents think otherwise. To see him this way is a sad reminder of just how quick accidents involving young children can happen, and how they can change people's lives in a heartbreaking instant.
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Reviewed by Cathy Montgomery
6/11/2003
Very touching, well written story...
You really know how to move hearts, dear friend!!
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I look at my little son, Hezzi (Hezekiel), sitting by the window in his wheelchair, staring at probably nothing more than a small dust bunny, and at once my heart is full of incredible sadness and despair as I once again relive the moment that brought little Hezzi to this fate.
