Lifefright

Well, at 8 pm on Friday evening, we lovingly tucked in our sweet almost-four year old with all the normal hugs and kisses. He was as healthy as ever.

At 2 am, I heard an awful sound coming from the bedroom. My heart dropped. I thought it was Lily and panicked- she, too, had been fine the night before, but she can change fast and we've had more than one scare from her. But it was Kenan that met me at the door of their room, trying to cry, trying to breathe, a horrible stridorous sound coming from his throat. I knew immediately that it was croup, which he had had problems with before, but this seemed especially bad. I scooped him up and ran into the bathroom, trying to comfort and calm him, while I turned on the shower. I grabbed my croup kit and started working on him, eventually alternating between the warm, misty bathroom, and the cool garage and cold freezer. He couldn't catch his breath. We kept waiting for it to loosen and give us the reassurance that we would be fine dealing with it by ourselves at home, but that reassurance just was not coming. He was getting more and more lethargic, only opening his eyes when we sharply told him to. I haven't ever called 911 before (for my family) but it was obvious that this time, we were the ones needing emergency help. After eternity had passed twice, if it were possible, they began arriving. Soon, about 8 or more men filled our very messy garage and had Kenan and me loaded into the ambulance, heading to St. James. This was the second time I was riding with one of my children in the back of an ambulance and this was way worse than the first time. He was given some more breathing treatments and a shot of epinephrine and was still working so hard to simply get in a little air. He was only semi-conscious. Another eternity passed before we were arriving to the ER. And another eternity passed as they worked with him, giving him decadron IV and more treatments (racemic epi, for my nurse friends). They told us he might need to be intubated and put on a ventilator. They made preparations to fly him to St. Francis, which occurred around 530. It was so scary to see him lift off and fly away- without us. Scared and cold, wrapped in a nurse's coat, I stood alone and watched (Dave had quick run home to pack some things). Unfortunately, I thought of another time a son of mine took a similar flight, but at least I did think, God is there and God is here. God was with us all, I know.

They admitted him to the Peds Critical Care unit. They gave more treatments and got him settled in. The steroids were starting to have a positive effect finally but he didn't awake when we arrived, and continued to sleep much of the entire day. He was so, so tired, and so sad and pathetic looking. If he did wake up, he cried. He wasn't even hungry (for those of you who don't know if that well, he is ALWAYS hungry). His body must have been so unimaginably exhausted.

But around 4 or so, he awoke! We even coaxed a smile out of him and got him to eat a spoonful of jello. And from then on, our sweet, one-of-a-kind Kenan began returning. By bedtime, when we were transferred to the general pediatric floor, he was hungry and happy and lively and almost totally himself ("I like TV" - stated at 10 pm :) )

This morning, he woke up singing and starving (at 5:30). He didn't even have a noticeable cough anymore. By noon, we were at McDonalds, getting some lunch on our way home. I felt a little strange, sitting there letting him eat french fries and a greasy McDouble, but there was no indication that the past 30 hours occurred at all. Once again, he was as healthy as ever.

Now we are home, relaxing in amazed wonder, while we watch him run around and play and wait for the return of the rest of our family, determined never to take the breath of life for granted again.

We thank God most of all for His healing mercies. I was thankful for all the months spent memorizing Psalm 46 with our friends, because I kept hearing that psalm playing in my mind, comforting and holding me up. Thanks to all those who prayed for us, took care of children, visited :), and supported us in any way. We were overwhelmed with love and care. And thanks to the rest of our dear children, who really stepped up to the plate in their own sweet ways! We love you all :)

some funnies from a very not funny experience:
We told Kenan more about the helicopter after we asked him what he remembered and he had only said that  it was loud and there were two men with him. After we explained more to him, he responded, 'that would be fun.' (if you're not so sick, I guess!) Then later, we asked him if it was scary in the helicopter and he said without hesitation, "no! it was fun!" (a rather expensive source of entertainment)
He told us that he remembered Dad calling 111 before he got into the fire engine. 
Sunday night it was hard for either Dave or I to put him to bed in his room for fear he would stop breathing or something during the night. Kenan apparently caught wind of our discussion. He came to me and very seriously said, "Mom, I am so, so, so sick. I really need to sleep in your room. If I sleep with Lily (in my bed), I will give her my werms."
I heard Dave asking Kenan what he liked about the motel! He caught himself and quickly changed it to hospital, but we both had a good laugh. Hoping he got this one on priceline!