Mood:
not sureNow Playing: nothing - so I can hear Dearest Son, just in case.
OK. Before I get into the disaster that was today, let me assure you that everything's fine, everyone's home, and the only one not sleeping is me, and hopefully, all will continue to be fine. But this morning...
I woke up a bit early, and rather than toss ‘til the alarm went off, I got up and puttered around. Thought I'd get an early start on blog catch-up, since I was too lazy to do it yesterday. I was doing my usual ‘morning computer meandering' when I heard an odd sound. I figured Dearest Son, who'd fallen asleep on the sofa last night, had tumbled and was upset.
He was on the floor. But he wasn't upset. He was having a seizure. His body was rigid, his mouth was slack but grinding, and he shook all over. I hope I never see anything as scary as the complete vacancy in his eyes ever again. I tried to wake him - let's face it, I was not thinking here ! - and flipped him to his side, in case he was choking. I screamed and Beloved Hubby came running. He swept Son's mouth while I called 911. Nothing there. Then, almost as suddenly, it was all over. I don't think the whole thing was two minutes long. Leaving us with a limp, exhausted, dazed Son and a few billion questions. Plus a fire truck and an ambulance in the yard.
About three hours later, we were home. CAT scans and bloodwork revealed we had a normal-by-all-tests 47-pound pre-pubescent son. But not much else. No reason for the seizure was found. He had a doctor's visit this afternoon, and an EEG scheduled for later this week, but there's not much we can do until the EEG is analyzed. It's entirely possible that this was a one-time unexplainable event. It's equally possible he'll be on medicine to control seizures for the rest of his days. Either way, he'll be fine. We've done the research, and all that can be done has been, or soon will be. Aside from a lengthy nap, he's completely normal. Speech, play, eating, conversing - like any other day.
It still astounds me. When it happened, I could just as easily have been in the shower or in bed, and it's doubtful either of us would have heard him. This place, while wonderful, is a sound sponge. In the shower, there's no way I would have heard him - it's an echo chamber, you can't even understand someone talking two feet from you. I would have awakened him an hour later, wondering why he was so exhausted.
So now I'm worried. Has he had these before ? He didn't remember anything before the ambulance and the hospital about today. I'm combing my memories, trying to find any instances of him being wiped out with no explanation. He's a very healthy kid ! We've been very, very lucky.
(deep breath) As you can imagine, it's very difficult for me to sleep tonight. I put Beloved to bed early - he hadn't slept well before all this happened, and the stress wearied him further - and Son gently tucked in at normal time. The slightest little noise sets me running. Intellectually, I know darn well that if he has another, I either will or won't hear it, and being awake at 3am won't change a (*&% thing. I also know that life goes on whether you're laughing or crying, so ya might as well take the best tact and attitude you can, because that's all ya can change.
It hurt knowing that, yesterday, I told him to settle down and be quiet. Today, as far as we knew at 5:15 am, we might never hear his voice again. It's scary as hell, and there's not anything I can do save for ferry him to an appointment later this week. I know I am completely out of this equation. It's between Son and medicine now.
But I still can't sleep.
