There was quite a crowd in Rose’s room at the ER when we arrived. We learned one of our good friends from the school had ridden with her in the ambulance. This was a relief to me because I did not want Rose traumatized by waking up in an ambulance among strangers. Her teacher, Ms. S soon arrived with her usual dramatic flourish. She had us laughing within minutes. Ms. S admonished her little “Turkey Toes” for leaving class early. Another friend who happened to be volunteering as a Rainbow Reader in the classroom next to Rose’s came to check on us. I stepped out in the hallway to cry with her. She knew how hard this had been on our family in the past and understood what this meant to our future.
I took notes about everything that was done on the backs of the forms and envelope from my art show. My notes were a mess by the end, crumpled and tear stained,but I was thankful that we had that paper. Things happened so fast and needed to be written down. When Rose’s dad or I left to go to the restroom, the other took over the note taking. We learned to do this in the beginning. That way her parents and caregivers all stayed on the same page in terms of her treatment.
A male nurse blatantly asked me why this seizure was so upsetting to me. I started to explain that we had hoped that Rose had outgrown her childhood epilepsy. He flatly stated that epilepsy is not something that can be outgrown. A kick while you are down is never a good thing. I will always remember his name and his face.
I know this nurse was puzzled by my extreme sadness when Rose’s medical chart clearly stated she had epilepsy. This is the same hospital where she went had gone status after her tonsillectomy three years earlier. The details were all right there for her doctors and nurses to read. I am sure I was expected to be a seasoned seizure mama by this point. I am not sure there is such a thing.
Seizure Mama speaks to parents:
What was not in Rose’s charts was how much we wanted to believe epilepsy was behind us, the seizures, the drugs, the side effects, and the fear. That’s not something medical workers can read in charts. They do not see the full picture. The quick parade of patients does not allow them time for reflective thinking. I know that those handling constant emergency situations have to think quickly on their feet.
It reminds me of my years as a teacher, when I had so many children I didn’t know what to do. I was never enough at school. Then I would come home feeling too exhausted and stressed to be a wife and a mother. I respect the workers on the front lines at the hospital. But they, like teachers, cannot know all the details.
That said, no one can expect to be handled with kid gloves in the Emergency Room. We have been there many times. The medical workers gather data, assess the current situation and decide on an immediate treatment. This is “life in the fast lane.” We parents must pay attention, write everything down, and be nicely but firmly proactive.