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Saturday 16 September 2017
Three weeks of hell
It's been almost three weeks since our vacation that ended dramatically with our three year old having a terrifying episode of cluster seizures. During the three weeks we have spent almost all our time at the hospital, between appointments for an MRI, EEG, blood work, and repeated emergency room visits, I feel like I pretty much live there. When I am working a lot I get a similar feeling, yet it is so very different having your child as the patient. With every new needle stick, every repeated test, every new procedure and every shift change, I watched my tiny helpless human grow more anxious and more upset. Having to hold my baby down so he could be sedated or have an iv started was a new definition of hell for me. I've been through all of these procedures hundreds of times before and it always sucks to see a kid cry and hurts even more when the parents cry. Suddenly I am on the other side of this, I'm no longer the nurse that can leave the room and have a moment to compose myself, I'm no longer the health care provider that gets to check the computer and have the inside scoop of what the doctors are thinking. I have found myself in this place of absolute vulnerability, I feel naked, alone, scared, and completely helpless. The professional side of me knows that these people caring for us are doing everything in their power to help, comfort, teach, and support us; the mama bear side of me wants to scream, yell, and rip apart every person that comes in to poke and prod at my tiny cub. Test after test. Medication after medication. We have a diagnosis. We are part way to an answer. Almost at a solution. These are the things the nurse in me knows. These are the things the mom in me hopes.
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