(No, he's not sick again! Just wanting to preserve these emails I sent out for historical purposes.)
From October 2004 to June 2005, Miles and the rest of us, especially me, endured numerous emergency visits, ambulance rides, pediatric ward admissions, invasive and tortuous medical interventions, oxygen hookups, for treatment for childhood asthma.
This was extremely tough on many levels, from seeing our toddler suffer, to subjecting him to procedures he couldn't understand and which hurt and scared him (taking blood for tests, taking x-rays that involved physically confining him, shoving oxygen tubes up his nose), to finding out how physically strong a toddler is (we don't usually do things to them that involve them resisting with all their tiny little might!). Being in the pediatric ward in a hospital 30 km from home was also hard because friends and family couldn't just drop in to relieve me.
But on the bright side, Canada's public health care system was there for me when I needed it.
The social observer in me learned a lot (just during our emergency visites I vicariously experienced the tragedies of knife wound treatment, overdose, dementia, miscarriage, and a really weird devil dude with a cut thumb on Halloween).
This went on from when he was 16 months to his second birthday. We had one more emergency visit when he was 29 months, but weren't admitted. He's been under regular pediatrician care since (and has seen a total of 10 pediatricians, just the way things turn out in the public system), and is now just on flovent and singulair. We also went to "asthma school" as I call it, with a very helpful respiratory therapist at the Chilliwack hospital.
We dare not say he's outgrown it, but is doing really well and has weathered several chest colds without going into crisis. It was all such an intense experience that I wanted to preserve the record of it by posting some of my group emails from the time.
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From Nov 15, 2004
Hi Friends,
To bring you up to speed.
Please excuse this impersonal way of communicating, but I know it will exhaust me if I have to answer all or some of your inquiries of how was my high school reunion with the sad tale of it turning into an emergency stay at Royal Columbian for Miles and I.
We left him with my nurse sister-in-law five minutes from the hotel where the reunion was. We knew he was having some breathing issues but thought home-administered ventolin would do the trick, or at least fooled ourselves into believing that so we could steal some hours of enjoyment at the reunion we'd worked so hard to organize.
(A VERY successful and fun party, btw. Over 340 grads from our class of 800,
everyone out to have good time.)
Anyway, I checked at 9 pm and things weren't going well, so I brought my very own emergency doctor from the reunion, the kind and sober husband of a fellow grad, and he assessed Miles at my brother's house. A doctor and nurse in the house! How's that for service?
But Miles was struggling to breathe, so it was off to Royal Columbian, and six hours of waiting in a tiny pediatric cell in emergency, with consults by residents and doctors and med students and pediatrician, and a spooky ride through the dark hospital to the X-ray (Miles' fourth!) and torturous blood work at 3 am, finally admitted to Ped Ward at 4 am, bed for me, exhausted, at 4:30 am (I wouldn't have minded staying up that late if it was to party at the reunion!)
Spent Saturday and today until noon in the ped ward, in treatment and being monitored. They're calling it childhood asthma, say this latest attack was triggered by a cold, and that any infection is viral and won't respond to antibiotics, so we're treating with asthma medication.
He is much better now. I really wish I could have enjoyed my reunion more but those kiddies do come first.
The new tally of medical professionals who've looked at/cared for Miles in the last two months:
Six generalish-type physicians, including ER docs, including the friend at my brother's house.
Five pediatricians
Three residents
Four med students
At least a dozen nurses. All nice, but the RCH ones were pretty burnt out.
Apparently there have been cutbacks on the ped ward.
At least four steal-your-blood, attack-with-needle lab technician ladies.
It's not like we're extra attention-seeking, it's just happened that way because of the three hospitals we've been in.
Thank Tommy Douglas for Medicare!
I hope the Anne/Miles Lower Mainland hospital tour of Fall 04 is over now!
Anne
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Dec 16, 2004
Hospital tour continues
Dear Friends, Family, Colleagues,
(not that those labels are mutually exclusive in many cases!)
Just a quick update to save repeating myself. Miles and I just spent another three days in the pediatric ward of Abbotsford hospital (or as I call it, “baby jail”: it has striped pyjamas, bars on the cribs, bad food, and everything!).
He went into respiratory crisis again on Monday afternoon and we went to Chilliwack emergency, were stabilized and sent home, but we soon realized he was still in crisis, so went back, treated again, and eventually transported by ambulance (again!) to Abbotsford, as we have no pediatric ward in Chilliwack.
They tested for something called RSV (as they always do) and he tested positive this time, so we were isolated in a four-bed room with other RSV cases. It’s basically a virus that acts like a cold for most people but really latches on to some babies and toddlers, especially those with compromised breathing systems, such as our poor little guy.
Miles and I had a really rough night the first night there, ventolin treatments every hour, scary low oxygen scores, sitting up with him to keep him breathing better, and not much sleep.
Things were a bit better Tues as we were able to sleep and recover a bit. Miles spent the whole 60 hours or so attached to oxygen through the nostrils with a 10-foot “leash”, so his movement was rather limited. He is so good natured that he took this very well and accepted his limitations with grace.
The rest of our time there was an exercise in patience as we waited for his oxygen levels to improve enough to wean off the oxygen feed and be liberated and go home. I’m getting better at this waiting game, and decided to look at the bright side of our situation:
· We once again received excellent medical care from many caring nurses and doctors (our pediatrician count is now up to EIGHT!), including some fine UCFV alumni.
· I got to spend many precious hours with my son when I would usually be working.
· Got to call on friends and family for care and takeout dinners and lunches and care for our girls and they delivered! And colleagues at work pitched in for me. Thanks all.
· I finished two whole books and almost a whole jigsaw puzzle! How often do I have that much leisure time!
· As usual, Miles, just by being his sweet self, charmed nurses, doctors, and hospital visitors alike as he stood at the door looking balefully out at the rest of the ward, tethered by the nose to his oxygen machine.
· Had a nice bonding/mentoring time with a young mother who recently emigrated from India, as we were confined together for three days. The most comical part of this was teaching her Jingle Bells and trying to explain the lyrics to her. (“Dashing – it’s kind of like running. A sleigh – you get pulled on it... through the snow… by a horse… well, I’ve never actually been in a one-horse open sleigh, but it sounds fun. Bells on bobtail ring… well, you put these bells on the horse’s tail… I guess you bob the tail first. Bobbing, it’s kind of like a haircut… anyway, the bells ring, that’s why they sing Jingle Bells!")
· This being a prime time of year for taking pity on waifs, and the kids in hospital being especially waif-like, Miles came home with FOUR corporate-sponsored presents this time. And since I give Telus, A&W, and Starbucks lots of money the rest of the year, I don’t feel guilty about receiving!
We’ve now spent nine days in a ped ward and four or five days in emergency over the past three months. Definitely enough already! And yes, despite my attempt to maintain a positive attitude, this definitely does all suck!
So, here we are, back at home and hoping.
Oh, and if we're late with your Christmas card or present, now you know why!
Thanks for all your kind thoughts and wishes.
Anne
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To those who knew, those who didn’t, and all who care:
After just getting comfortable with Miles’ health (six months hospital-free!), we got to go on that wild journey again.
Miles took a sudden downward turn on Thursday. I was called home at noon by Daryl, who had a very lethargic boy on his lap. I gave him ventolin and got him to sleep, and after he woke at 2 and was still struggling to breathe, I drove him into Chilliwack Hospital.
Then it was hello to our old friends the nurses, yes we're here again, been six months this time, yes he's grown. They gave him more ventolin, did an X-ray, checked his oxygen levels -- not great -- so off again with the ambulance men to MSA Hospital in Abbotsford, where I again met nurses we'd had before, along with a hunky and very-good-with-kids resident doctor who was great with Miles, and a competent young woman pediatrician (who didn't believe me when I told her she was our ninth pediatrician in eight months -- "but we don't have nine pediatricians in Abbotsford," she said. "Oh, we don't confine ourselves to Abbotsford," I said. "We have medical crises all over the Lower Mainland.").
Back to the skinny little cot that Miles insists on sleeping with me in, and various forms of baby torture, such as holding him down for oral meds and strapping oxygen nasal prongs in and taping them on, then at midnight taping his pajama sleeves shut because he'd been tearing at his prongs in his sleep.
Roommates my first night were a nice quiet family and some obnoxious woman who was very sick herself and who let her very loud daughter watch very loud TV while she tried to sleep and her daughter kept saying (yelling) "Mama, why are you resting? What's resting Mama? Why are your eyes closed?"
Miles had ventolin every hour that first night, lots of fuzzy waking-up moments with beautiful young nurses hovering over us -- maybe Daryl should have been there for that. The next day he was in pretty good spirits (he's amazingly resilient) and played while tethered at the nose to his oxygen for the first half of the day and gradually improved.
The room, mercifully, emptied out, and I enjoyed a bit of resigned peace -- yes, I'm under extreme deadline pressures at work; yes, I was supposed to drive an old lady to Convocation at UCFV; yes, Miles was supposed to have a birthday party in two days; yes, there was likely a very old cowboy whose phone number I'd lost and who couldn't talk very well anyway (stroke I think) planning to show up for the cancelled party with a pony and how would I contact him; yes, Emma's birthday comes the day after Miles' and she needs presents -- but I couldn't do a damn thing about any of it, so I read my book while he napped, and enjoyed his company when he was awake.
But it was too good to be true (if hospital stays can be construed as good). First in came nice but very loud four-year-old boy and his mum, also suffering from asthma. Disturbing but tolerable. But soon after came nice baby with hillbilly family from Hell. Teenaged mum, teenaged dad, grandma about my age with two tiny girls of her own, all making their presence very known in the space beside me. I drew the curtains quickly, but they kept getting undrawn because we had to share the chair for giving our babies treatments.
Very obnoxious dad complained that nothing or nobody was going to stop him from being there -- restraining order or not. Then he was dispatched to get dinner, and came back bragging of having ridden his bike to the pawn shop to pawn something to get enough scratch for dinner and cigarettes, but he was 35 cents short for cigarettes, and they had to share one Subway sandwich, and proceeded to argue about how many chips each got. Meanwhile, the baby's mini-aunties were generally adding to the screech level in the place and grandma was complaining about wasting money on Subway when she'd brought peanut butter for them all. Believe me, I would have loved to have skipped all this sociology-by-eavesdropping!
They all left except mum and baby and I thought things would settle down. Miles went to sleep on me on the world's skinniest and most uncomfortable cot, and proceeded to sleep through his every-two-hours treatments right til morning. Meanwhile, hillbilly baby (bless his heart and I'm not blaming him) proceeded to scream FOR THE ENTIRE 15 MINUTES every time he got a treatment, in the chair two feet away from my head. And nice-enough-if-loud (during the day) four-year-old boy turned into a demon every time the mask was applied for his treatments, screaming "TAKE IT OFF MUMMY,TAKE IT OFF!!!!" over and over and over and over and over and over and over again for ENTIRE 15 MINUTES of his treatment. And sometimes these boys' treatments coincided!
(I clenched my jaw and survived, squished into my very uncomfortable cot, thinking, "I definitely deserve some type of medal for this part." I also had a dream that I was back in my single bed at my parents' house and lobbying to be given one of my brothers' bigger beds as I had this toddler sleeping on me now.)
Mercifully again, both these boys were discharged the next morning (not before I got to hear about hillbilly Daddy having to take anger management classes before he could live with them), and by this time Miles had improved enough to be let off his oxygen leash, and could roam the whole ward. We were just waiting to see if he was stable enough to be sent home (meaning, could go to once every four hours ventolin treatments). He was freed at 6 pm last night and we came home to our big bed. Even if I had to wake up at 2 am and 6 am to give him treatments it sure beat the night before.
Birthday party cancelled (luckily, old cowboy's daughter had phoned us to cancel his gig as her dad is too old to supervise pony rides anymore) but we're very happy to be home. Took Miles out to two stops on the Ryder Lake Ramble (a farm-visiting day in the hills south of Chilliwack) and he got to see donkeys and llamas and a big horse before coming home for his next meds.
So that’s the update. Hope this is not a continuing saga, but I’m grateful for all the help and good wishes we received once again.
Anne
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