It All Began with a Hot Diaper

1 Hot Diaper

The warning came in the form of a hot diaper. I was sitting at the kitchen table with Rose on my lap. I felt extreme heat radiating across my thighs. I thought I had spilled a cup of hot coffee into my chair, but there was no coffee near me, only squirming and fussy Rose.
When I figured out that the heat was coming from her diaper, I panicked. How could her pee be that hot? All I could think of was getting her to her pediatrician. I knew the fever had to be really high for her urine too be this hot.
I grabbed Rose’s diaper bag along with my purse and headed out the door. I drove straight to the doctor’s office even though I knew it was their lunchtime. I pulled our van into the parking lot facing the door of the office. I paced back and forth outside the open van door while Rose sat quietly in her car seat. The nurse appeared to unlock the door. I removed Rose from her seat and hurried toward the nurse. I quickly explained why we were there without an appointment.
It was a relief to be ushered into the office and down the hallway toward the examination rooms. We stopped in the alcove where vitals were taken before going into a room. As the nurse put the thermometer in Rose’s ear, Rose stiffened. Her head tilted back and her eyes rolled up in her head. She was twitching and twisting so strongly that I could barely keep her in my arms. I screamed the doctor’s name. “She’s having a seizure!” I heard myself yell.
The doctor appeared beside us and cradled Rose’s head as we moved as a group into the nearest room. Rose was still jerking as we gingerly placed her on the padded examination table. Then she became eerily still and ashen. Was Rose still in there? I held my breath and waited for a movement or sound, some sign that this was over and Rose was back.
The doctor stayed with us, silently administering acetaminophen rectally. He sponged down Rose’s arms and legs with cloths wet with tepid water. Rose began to squirm. I remember taking a deep breath. She stirred some more, then looked around and sat up.
The doctor left to see other patients while I sat in the chair holding Rose. I was stunned at what had just taken place. Rose eventually got down on the floor to play with the toys on the rug as if nothing had happened. I couldn’t take my eyes off of her.
I had never seen a seizure in person before. I didn’t know anything about childhood seizures. Mama had some serious learning to do. This was not in all those parenting books, or maybe I had skipped those parts.

Seizure Mama speaks to parents:

After the shock wore off, I played the terrible parent game called “SECOND GUESSING YOURSELF.” If you have never played a form of this game, go on to the next story. The rest of you, here we go.

This form of the game is called “What if I had..?” It involves a kind of scientific twist like forming an if/then hypothesis and guessing the various outcomes. In the game you get to be the cause of every calamity. It’s a great game to play at night, in the dark, when you should be getting some much-needed rest.

I will demonstrate.

1. IF I had changed Rose’s diaper and given her a cool drink instead of rushing to the doctor’s office, THEN she might have cooled off and never had that seizure.
2. IF I had changed Rose’s diaper and clothes to a cooler outfit, THEN…
3. IF I had given Rose a dose of an NSAID(non-steroidal anti-inflammatory)drug and a cool drink, THEN…

The possibilities of these variations are endless. You can lie awake and play all night if you wish.

What is the point of this game? Blame of course. You are in charge of your world, so this seizure must be your fault! I know, that sounds crazy right? Then quit thinking that way about yourself. Bad things happen. Maybe things could have been done differently. Maybe there would have been a different outcome. But you don’t know that. So when you catch yourself playing this terrible game, pat your tired self on the back and roll over and get some sleep.

Story #35: Stop the Music

When Rose was in eighth grade band, the middle school band was invited to join the high school band to play during a football game. Rose sat with all the other trumpet players in the band section of the stadium.
Rose’s father and I sat in the adjacent section where we could keep an eye on her. We were concerned because Rose hated loud noise. We had instructed her to take out her tiny hearing aid while the band played. This hearing aid was red and the size of a kidney bean. It cost thousands of dollars and was not covered by insurance.
At some point during the first half, we noticed a disturbance where Rose was sitting. She was having a seizure. I rushed down to her side. The band director gave the other band members the okay to go take a break. This made it easier for the EMTs to get to us. Rose stayed unconscious for quite some time after the seizure. Her dad went to get the van and drive it up to the back of the stands.
It was about then that I noticed that Rose’s hearing aid was not in her ear. I searched around her. There was no little red bean. I went through her pockets. No bean. The EMTs joined in the search. We made quite a spectacle. Unconscious Rose, her mama, and a bunch of men in uniform scouring the empty stands.
The band members returned from their break. The band leader asked if I minded if they played some music. The music resumed. Rose aroused. A group of men helped haul Rose up the stadium steps to the van. As I followed them up the steps, a woman tapped me on the shoulder and asked “What were ya’ll lookin’ for down there?” She was curious about the lost item, not the unconscious girl. I guess asking about Rose would have been rude.
When we got Rose safely into the backseat of the van, I informed her dad that her tiny hearing aid was missing. I searched her pockets once more. Tucked down in the corner of her jacket pocket was that tiny expensive bean. I was so relieved and happy.
As we drove away from the school, Rose’s dad turned to me and asked, “Other than that, Mrs. Lincoln, how was the play?”

Seizure Mama speaks to parents:

It may be futile to try to keep your child’s seizures a secret. Rose’s condition was known to everyone at church, at school, and out in the community. We never tried to hide her epilepsy. There was no point in it. It went with us wherever we went, whether we liked it or not.

Story #34: Down in the Band Room

When Rose started to middle school, Mama went, too. There was an eighth grade science teacher opening which I applied for and got. There was a collective sigh of relief from all of our family and friends. The middle school was too far away from our house. I could not get there fast enough if there was an emergency. The route there was all two lane roads. What if there was a tractor, a train, a wreck…?
So Rose’s mama went to middle school. It was a good thing I did. There were sicknesses and seizures that had to be dealt with. The entire staff knew that Rose’s mama was only an intercom call away. I would hear my name followed by “Get to the gym.” or “Go the nurse’s office.” I would take a deep breath and run toward Rose as someone met me in the hallway heading toward my classroom to watch my students during my absence.
Adjacent to my classroom, I had a storage room for science equipment. We kept a fold-out cot with pillows and blankets in it for Rose to sleep off her seizures after being rolled to my room in the closest available rolling chair. It was a comfort to Rose and me that I could peek through my back door and check on her without missing a beat teaching my students.
This is how we handled her emergencies during those years. We were still searching for the perfect combination of medications. She had some learning issues and hearing issues. Then there were several surgeries. Rose needed support. I was the “mama in residence” again, there to make sure she was taken care of.
On a particularly hectic Friday, I was called over the intercom to the band room. There was a band concert. Rose played the trumpet in it. I ran to the band room to find her unconscious on the tiered floor among scattered chairs and music stands.
(Please pause here to envision this setting. A stair step type floor plan, rows of chairs on each level and tall, black, metal music stands everywhere. Lord, could we not have this seizure somewhere else?)
Two other staff members stayed with us in the band room until Rose woke up. Instead of her normally docile self, she woke up swinging. I could tell she did not know where she was. Sometimes she is blind after a seizure. I kept trying to talk calmly to her, but it was as though she did not recognize my voice. I tried not to panic as several music stands were knocked down, which caused more to fall. There was a domino-effect. More crashed to the floor. It took quite a while to get Rose calmed down. The band students were waiting outside the door. They needed to put their instruments back in their cases. It was time for school to let out. They needed to come in and get ready to go home.
Rose’s dad and brother came to help us. I made a call to the our neurologist. Drug 8K dosages would be increased. No one lost her head. The show must go on.

Seizure Mama speaks to parents:

I was very fortunate to get to work at Rose’s school. It got us through those years. They were not easy for any of us. I was a trained high school biology teacher with community college experience. I would not have chosen to teach middle school. I loved my students and my peers, but the stress slowly took its toll on my health. I knew this was not going to end well, but I had to make it through seven years.
The high school was right across the road from the middle school. If I did not get a job there when Rose went to high school, I would just remain the sentry across the street, only a phone call away and a quick drive across the road. The drive over would be followed by a panicked run to a designated location. I could endure seven years in eighth grade to save Rose. I could do that. I thought…
So what does this mean to you? There will be many sacrifices made for your fragile child. Do not let your own health be one of them. I lived through my time in middle school, but damage was done. I am better now, but there were times when I was truly terrified for my own well-being. I am very protective of myself now. I have to survive Rose’s seizures, too. Rose needed me whether she liked it or not. We were tethered together by her epilepsy. If one of us went down, we both went down.
Take care of yourself, too. United we stand.

Walls Work Two Ways

I ordered this shirt for Rose. She has hit a rough patch.

When she called several days ago she was upset.

Someone she trusted had hurt her.

She said she had put some walls back up.

I have been thinking about those walls.

She has had to protect herself from harm more than most.

It’s a fact of life for her.

Like someone saying they were putting on a raincoat when it rains.

She just does it when it needs to be done.

But those walls work two ways.

What keeps others away from you, also keeps you away from others.

Rose knows this. She went and had words with this person.

Some of those walls will remain. Rose is savvy about some things.

Trust must be earned.

Some walls need to stay where they are.

I was just glad to hear that she had torn down some old walls while off at the university.

Watching Rose Rise make me proud.

Seizure Mama

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Crunch Time for Rose

I have learned not to worry about Rose.

After twenty-four years of being Seizure Mama, it’s a necessity for my own survival.

I am very aware of the stress level of college students right now.

I used to teach college biology, so I understand that this part of the semester

is a race to the finish line for students.   Actually, there are four or five finish lines.

Add in spring fever, plans for summer trips and  a summer job

and you have a tornado of stress.

We know what that means.

I am thankful that Rose is an experienced student who does not procrastinate.

I count on her to make good decisions.

She is in charge of herself. My worrying will not do anything but harm me.

Still.   I plan to keep very busy these next four weeks.

Just in case I try to wander into the “Worry Maze.”

(That’s what I call it when the “What Ifs” try to sneak into my thoughts.)

STUDENTS with seizures: Take care of yourselves until the semester ends.

Good sleep, good food, good exercise, study in spurts. No 24 hour marathons.

PARENTS:  This is their ball game. Stay in the stands.

Seizure Mama