I haven't fully wrapped the entire picture storage issue around my head yet. I've been slightly preoccupied with cleaning up puke and, um, other stuff, from three of my four children.
In the meantime, I am using another one of my e-mail accounts to post because if I do that I can upload more pictures.
The best solution? I don't know.
But it works.
And for now, that will have to do.
Sunday, December 9, 2012
Friday, December 7, 2012
Full?!
Um, when I try to upload pictures I am informed I've used up all my 1GB storage? Further research tells me that only some pictures (above a certain size) are put into said "storage." I am willing and able to do even further research to remedy this problem, as I have plenty to journal and don't want to miss capturing these moments.
But I thought I would start by putting it out here.
Does anybody know what I need to do. I'd rather not pay for more storage space.
But I thought I would start by putting it out here.
Does anybody know what I need to do. I'd rather not pay for more storage space.
Saturday, November 10, 2012
Intussusception: Part 4: The Ambulance
Before Brandon made it back to the hospital and before the doctor came back into the room, I sat and looked at my son in his crib. He was too sick to even squirm in pain at this point. Sprawled out on his back, arms above his head, I thought about how much I love this sweet little boy.
I rode down with Samuel and Brandon followed in the car. The paramedic expressed valid concern for Samuel's lethargic state. He upped his IV drip and we were both grateful to see him perk up just a bit with the increased liquids.
We talked through the events of the past 24 hours,talked about our kids, housing prices, where we live. What anybody would expect on an ambulance ride with their child, I suppose.
The time flew. This 40 minute drive to Salt Lake went faster for me than our 5 minute drive to Davis Hospital the night before. We arrived and were quickly brought into the well oiled machine that is Primary Children's Medical Center.
I began to pray for his return to health and couldn't do it.
I had said enough prayers this year that weren't answered, not because Heavenly Father wasn't listening, or answering, but because I wasn't asking the right questions.
This wasn't just a stomach bug, we all knew that by now. If it wasn't an intussusception, than it was something more serious. For the first time since we had arrived at the hospital I feared for my son's life. At this moment more than any other in my entire life I needed to pray with all the faith that I had and I needed to pray for the right thing.
I knew that if I prayed for his life to be spared and it wasn't, my faith would be completely shattered. And who was I to have that wish granted when I know so many who have endured so much heartache and loss in their lives? Why should I be exempt to that?
The only thing I could do was put it in the Lord's hands. I put Samuel's health in His hands and I put my strength in His hands. One thing I knew without a doubt, was that I would need His strength to make it through whatever was in front of us.
Those few moments were precious to me. Precious beyond what I can share here, other than to share my testimony of my Savior and his atonement. I truly "stand all amazed at the love Jesus offers me."
Those few moments were precious to me. Precious beyond what I can share here, other than to share my testimony of my Savior and his atonement. I truly "stand all amazed at the love Jesus offers me."
Shortly after that, the doctor came in. The verdict was to send Samuel down via ambulance. Brandon came up with his car seat. We went through the paper work and the other motions to be ready for the transfer to PCMC.
The time flew. This 40 minute drive to Salt Lake went faster for me than our 5 minute drive to Davis Hospital the night before. We arrived and were quickly brought into the well oiled machine that is Primary Children's Medical Center.
Wednesday, October 31, 2012
Intussusception: The Support
As much as I don't want to forget the facts (and am still working on getting those written down), it's the behind the scenes communications and the feelings that accompanied them that I will cherish forever. That is the stuff that is hard to write about.
I write this because I want to remember and I want my children to know how much we have been given and how much we need to give. We are blessed with an endless support system through the Relief Society, our family, our friends, our neighbors, and, most especially, our Savior. We have been carried on the back of angels, both on this earth and beyond, through so much.
To say I am grateful hardly hold a candle to the feelings in my heart.
My cup runneth over.
Between holding Samuel and talking with the doctor and charting his pukes and his heaves I was on the phone or iMessage almost constantly. Texting Brandon, my parents, Jill, my siblings.
Then other phone calls came in. The Relief Society President, insistent that I keep her updated and find something that the ward could do for us. My visiting teacher to set up a meal drop off. She even made a birthday cake and bought Marie a present. Another ward member to check in on Samuel's status. Our laundry was picked up from our house and washed. A neighbor snuck in and straightened our house. And yet another dear neighbor drove all the way down to Salt Lake, dropped off a bag of food, gave me a hug, and then turned around and went home.
Once it hit Facebook that we were in the hospital, that inbox was flooded. Offers to help, promises of prayers, get well wishes. My dad and sister attended the temple and put his name on the prayer roll. It was Stake conference in my hometown and many, many families joined us in prayingthere, as well.
The prayers that were with us were truly tangible. I don't know that words can do justice for what I felt as I went through this experience other than to say that I was literally strengthened by the many, many prayers that were said on our behalf. Only a small number of people were able to help us in a temporal way. My family only eats so much food and my kids were well taken care of first by a friend who knows them well and then my mother. But the prayers? There can never be enough prayers, and oh how we needed them!
The love and support that we felt even reached beyond the here and now. Feelings and impressions that are a bit too sacred to share in detail on a public (ish) blog, reassured both my mother and myself that angels were attending to our little Samuel.
In a quiet moment in Samuel's room I was reminded of a pioneer story and painting that described well how I was feeling,
In a quiet moment in Samuel's room I was reminded of a pioneer story and painting that described well how I was feeling,
“I have pulled my handcart when I was so weak and weary from illness and lack of food that I could hardly put one foot ahead of the other. I have looked ahead and seen a patch of sand or a hill slope and I have said, I can go only that far and there I must give up, for I cannot pull the load through it. … I have gone on to that sand and when I reached it, the cart began pushing me. I have looked back many times to see who was pushing my cart, but my eyes saw no one. I knew then that the angels of God were there." (quoted in David O. McKay, “Pioneer Women,” p. 8)
I could not have pushed my own handcart that weekend and I didn't have to. That is the beauty of the Gospel.
I write this because I want to remember and I want my children to know how much we have been given and how much we need to give. We are blessed with an endless support system through the Relief Society, our family, our friends, our neighbors, and, most especially, our Savior. We have been carried on the back of angels, both on this earth and beyond, through so much.
To say I am grateful hardly hold a candle to the feelings in my heart.
My cup runneth over.
Saturday, October 27, 2012
Intussusception: Part 3
Going to bed that night was hard. I was on such an adrenaline high, I was worried about my baby, and I was sick inside at what Marie's birthday was panning out to be. I straightened up the ridiculous mess we left when we rushed out 4 hours before, checked on the kids, and proceeded to put up some meager decorations and a present for Marie to wake up to. I'm know I talked to Brandon, too. The on-call pediatrician had stopped by and he filled me in on the details.
At this point we had pretty much convinced ourselves that Samuel had a stomach bug. The doctor did mention to Brandon the possibility that it was an intussusception, but we didn't have enough evidence yet. Brandon didn't think much of it. No one is ever the exception, right? We weren't the 1 out of every 1000. No way. Heck, we didn't even know the word, let alone know to take it seriously.
The night for Brandon and Samuel was long. Samuel would fall asleep only to wake up every 15 minutes, curl up on to his knees, and cry out. Brandon would settle him down, get him back to sleep, try to sleep himself, only to go through the cycle again. He puked again at 3:30am when the nurse moved him around to check his vitals and had dry heaves several other times through the night.
The morning came quickly for me. I was wide awake by 6am. My dear friend, Jill, was coming over at 7am to collect William, Marie, and Anne and keep them for the day so I began getting things ready for that. Once all the kids were awake, I gave my birthday girl lots of hugs and kisses and had her opena small present. I sent the kids on their way with Jill and went back to the hospital.
At the hospital we met with Samuel's pediatrician and spoke to his nurses. The plan for the morning was to monitor how much he was puking or dry heaving and attempt to get him to keep down some Pedialyte. Once again, Dr. Eberhard mentioned the possibility of an intussusception and once again we didn't even register it. He didn't consider it seriously yet because there was one tell-tale symptom that still hadn't manifested itself. We didn't consider it seriously because, well, we had no idea what it was.
Brandon went home about 11am to get some sleep and then put together Marie's dollhouse for her birthday. We still had hopes that we might be home by the evening. Silly us.
The exact timeline at this point is hard to recreate. Samuel slept fitfully in my arms, I kept in touch with my parents and Brandon, and kept the doctor posted on updates. We tried pedialyte a couple of times and it came back up within an hour.
Then I changed a soiled diaper. It was his second soiled diaper. The first one I had changed when Brandon was still there. It was quite stinky. The room was kind of dark, I quickly changed him and passed the diaper on to the nurse to dispose of it. I didn't even look at it and only remember that it was dark stool. We did not want that stench in our room.
{Slap that nurse's hand for not checking and keeping that first diaper. That diaper was full of bloody stool, which would have helped us so much with our diagnosis.}
It was light in the room when I changed the second diaper and I was shocked to see blood. It wasn't much, just a smear, but it was definitely blood. I mentioned this to Dr. Eberhard when he called to check in next. That is when all the tests began. He was convinced at this point that it was an intussusception. This was the final symptom that had been missing. He needed tests to both rule out obstructions and confirm his suspicions before he could send us to Primary Children's where they had the ability to reduce it.
Abdominal x-ray. No obstruction.
Side x-ray. No sign of intussusception, but test is not entirely accurate and is considered inconclusive.
Upper GI tract exam. No obstruction.
Meanwhile the day stretched on. Samuel remained unchanged, if not worse. The radiologist and radiologist techs beamed about how well he held still for the tests. They had no idea how playful my boy was or that he was so sick.
We waited for some decisions.
We didn't hear the conversations between Dr. Eberhard, the radiologists, and the nurses, but as we look back we get the impression that it was Dr. Eberhard against all the Davis hospital employees. I'm positive that he was convinced of the diagnosis, but they had convinced themselves that it must just be a stomach bug.
He had severe intermittent pain, blood in his stool, vomiting, swollen abdomen, dehydration, and lethargy. Intussusception. BUT his x-rays all came back negative. Stomach bug.
One nurse came in and had me put plastic wrap in Samuel's diaper to try to collect a stool sample so they could see if it was really blood. "I have my opinions and he has his," she said.
Early evening, Dr. Eberhard stopped by to check in. We discussed all the tests, all of Samuel's symptoms, and he explained his feelings.
"The test are negative, but they can be inconclusive. He has all the symptoms. My gut just tells me that it's an intussusception." (Haha, no pun intended.)
I agreed with him. (By now I had figured out what that long word was and had spent some quality time with wikipedia and Mayo Clinic on my iPod.) That did it.
"I'm going to send you down to Primary Children's. They can do a more conclusive test and they have what they need to correct it. If it isn't an intussusception, they are more than equipped to see him through whatever is going on."
"So, what are the logistics of getting down there?"
"Maybe life flight? Let me discuss the case with a doctor down there and I'll let you know."
He left the room. I called my mom. I cried. I called Brandon and updated him. I cried. I ended the phone call with,
"You need to get here as soon as you can."
At this point we had pretty much convinced ourselves that Samuel had a stomach bug. The doctor did mention to Brandon the possibility that it was an intussusception, but we didn't have enough evidence yet. Brandon didn't think much of it. No one is ever the exception, right? We weren't the 1 out of every 1000. No way. Heck, we didn't even know the word, let alone know to take it seriously.
The night for Brandon and Samuel was long. Samuel would fall asleep only to wake up every 15 minutes, curl up on to his knees, and cry out. Brandon would settle him down, get him back to sleep, try to sleep himself, only to go through the cycle again. He puked again at 3:30am when the nurse moved him around to check his vitals and had dry heaves several other times through the night.
The morning came quickly for me. I was wide awake by 6am. My dear friend, Jill, was coming over at 7am to collect William, Marie, and Anne and keep them for the day so I began getting things ready for that. Once all the kids were awake, I gave my birthday girl lots of hugs and kisses and had her opena small present. I sent the kids on their way with Jill and went back to the hospital.
At the hospital we met with Samuel's pediatrician and spoke to his nurses. The plan for the morning was to monitor how much he was puking or dry heaving and attempt to get him to keep down some Pedialyte. Once again, Dr. Eberhard mentioned the possibility of an intussusception and once again we didn't even register it. He didn't consider it seriously yet because there was one tell-tale symptom that still hadn't manifested itself. We didn't consider it seriously because, well, we had no idea what it was.
Brandon went home about 11am to get some sleep and then put together Marie's dollhouse for her birthday. We still had hopes that we might be home by the evening. Silly us.
The exact timeline at this point is hard to recreate. Samuel slept fitfully in my arms, I kept in touch with my parents and Brandon, and kept the doctor posted on updates. We tried pedialyte a couple of times and it came back up within an hour.
Then I changed a soiled diaper. It was his second soiled diaper. The first one I had changed when Brandon was still there. It was quite stinky. The room was kind of dark, I quickly changed him and passed the diaper on to the nurse to dispose of it. I didn't even look at it and only remember that it was dark stool. We did not want that stench in our room.
{Slap that nurse's hand for not checking and keeping that first diaper. That diaper was full of bloody stool, which would have helped us so much with our diagnosis.}
It was light in the room when I changed the second diaper and I was shocked to see blood. It wasn't much, just a smear, but it was definitely blood. I mentioned this to Dr. Eberhard when he called to check in next. That is when all the tests began. He was convinced at this point that it was an intussusception. This was the final symptom that had been missing. He needed tests to both rule out obstructions and confirm his suspicions before he could send us to Primary Children's where they had the ability to reduce it.
Abdominal x-ray. No obstruction.
Side x-ray. No sign of intussusception, but test is not entirely accurate and is considered inconclusive.
Upper GI tract exam. No obstruction.
Meanwhile the day stretched on. Samuel remained unchanged, if not worse. The radiologist and radiologist techs beamed about how well he held still for the tests. They had no idea how playful my boy was or that he was so sick.
We waited for some decisions.
We didn't hear the conversations between Dr. Eberhard, the radiologists, and the nurses, but as we look back we get the impression that it was Dr. Eberhard against all the Davis hospital employees. I'm positive that he was convinced of the diagnosis, but they had convinced themselves that it must just be a stomach bug.
He had severe intermittent pain, blood in his stool, vomiting, swollen abdomen, dehydration, and lethargy. Intussusception. BUT his x-rays all came back negative. Stomach bug.
One nurse came in and had me put plastic wrap in Samuel's diaper to try to collect a stool sample so they could see if it was really blood. "I have my opinions and he has his," she said.
Early evening, Dr. Eberhard stopped by to check in. We discussed all the tests, all of Samuel's symptoms, and he explained his feelings.
"The test are negative, but they can be inconclusive. He has all the symptoms. My gut just tells me that it's an intussusception." (Haha, no pun intended.)
I agreed with him. (By now I had figured out what that long word was and had spent some quality time with wikipedia and Mayo Clinic on my iPod.) That did it.
"I'm going to send you down to Primary Children's. They can do a more conclusive test and they have what they need to correct it. If it isn't an intussusception, they are more than equipped to see him through whatever is going on."
"So, what are the logistics of getting down there?"
"Maybe life flight? Let me discuss the case with a doctor down there and I'll let you know."
He left the room. I called my mom. I cried. I called Brandon and updated him. I cried. I ended the phone call with,
"You need to get here as soon as you can."
Friday, October 19, 2012
Intussusception: Part 2
Back in triage we went through the required motions. I explained our concerns. We weighed Samuel. Perhaps we checked his pulse? Heart rate? Ears? They ushered me back to a room and the nurse went through the same motions. The next vivid memory in my mind was as I waited for the doctor to come in. Without warning or cue, Samuel puked all over my shirt.
I sent a text to Brandon. We were both relieved. Was it just a weird and sudden onset of a stomach bug?
The E.R. doctor came in and examined Samuel. I sensed a concern and had conflicting emotions. Part of me wanted him to say he must have a weird virus and send us home. The other part of me worried that he would say that and miss what was really going on. Whatever that was.
During the examine the doctor had Samuel laying on his lap. He lifted him up and Samuel puked again, all over the doctor. He left to get cleaned up. I sent Brandon another text.
"Doctor just examined him. He puked all over the doctor. Stomach bug, I guess? Doctor hasn't said anything."
After waiting for a while and cleaning up throw up two more times I sent Brandon another text,
"They suspect something abdominal. Nothing treatable and no reason to admit him. I'm waiting for the Dr to come back ... I assume at that point we'll be discharged."
I also sent a text to my mom with a picture of Samuel and minor details of the events of the night. I alluded to the fact that it was all over, just a bizarre scare and he was going to be fine.
That was the wishful thinking side of me. The only thing the nurse or doctor had said at this point was "Is that what's bugging you, little guy? Is your stomach upset?" I took that and ran with that. Of course, my baby was going to be fine. Of course, we would be going home tonight.
While waiting for them to make a decision I worked out details for a neighbor to stay with the kids so that they could get to bed. Brandon took them home, settled them in, and came back to the hospital thinking it was just to pick Samuel and I up.
After we had been there for awhile the doctor let us know that they were going to admit him with an IV and monitor him overnight. The next day was Marie's birthday. We had plans to go to Black Island Farm with some neighborhood friends. I quickly made some (emotional) phone calls to Megan to work out the details of the day and Jill who agreed to be at my house at 6:30 in the morning so that I could come back to the hospital. My wonderful friends. I can't say enough about their willingness to help at a moment's notice and their love for me and my family. To have people in my life that I can call at anytime of night to ask for help, that is priceless.
Brandon and I stayed together while they put in the IV, we found another Elder to assist Brandon in giving Samuel a blessing, we got him settled in to his room, and then I went home to relieve our neighbor, get ready for Marie's birthday, and attempt to get some sleep.
I sent a text to Brandon. We were both relieved. Was it just a weird and sudden onset of a stomach bug?
The E.R. doctor came in and examined Samuel. I sensed a concern and had conflicting emotions. Part of me wanted him to say he must have a weird virus and send us home. The other part of me worried that he would say that and miss what was really going on. Whatever that was.
During the examine the doctor had Samuel laying on his lap. He lifted him up and Samuel puked again, all over the doctor. He left to get cleaned up. I sent Brandon another text.
"Doctor just examined him. He puked all over the doctor. Stomach bug, I guess? Doctor hasn't said anything."
After waiting for a while and cleaning up throw up two more times I sent Brandon another text,
"They suspect something abdominal. Nothing treatable and no reason to admit him. I'm waiting for the Dr to come back ... I assume at that point we'll be discharged."
I also sent a text to my mom with a picture of Samuel and minor details of the events of the night. I alluded to the fact that it was all over, just a bizarre scare and he was going to be fine.
That was the wishful thinking side of me. The only thing the nurse or doctor had said at this point was "Is that what's bugging you, little guy? Is your stomach upset?" I took that and ran with that. Of course, my baby was going to be fine. Of course, we would be going home tonight.
While waiting for them to make a decision I worked out details for a neighbor to stay with the kids so that they could get to bed. Brandon took them home, settled them in, and came back to the hospital thinking it was just to pick Samuel and I up.
After we had been there for awhile the doctor let us know that they were going to admit him with an IV and monitor him overnight. The next day was Marie's birthday. We had plans to go to Black Island Farm with some neighborhood friends. I quickly made some (emotional) phone calls to Megan to work out the details of the day and Jill who agreed to be at my house at 6:30 in the morning so that I could come back to the hospital. My wonderful friends. I can't say enough about their willingness to help at a moment's notice and their love for me and my family. To have people in my life that I can call at anytime of night to ask for help, that is priceless.
Brandon and I stayed together while they put in the IV, we found another Elder to assist Brandon in giving Samuel a blessing, we got him settled in to his room, and then I went home to relieve our neighbor, get ready for Marie's birthday, and attempt to get some sleep.
Wednesday, October 17, 2012
Intussusception: Part I
Knowing what we know now, it all makes sense. Knowing what it was we could have easily pieced the clues together and acted accordingly.
His case was textbook. The symptoms lined up exactly.
But who has ever heard of an intussusception? Who could have known that this unfamiliar word would become a moment of history in our family?
It was a busy evening for us. We had a parent teacher conference for William at 4:30pm. Taking the entire family was a must, as we both wanted to speak with the teacher about some concerns we've had. When the 10 minute conference stretched to an hour we knew that Little Caesars needed to be on the menu that night. Our kids were energetic and loud as we drove to get the pizza. Our patience was thin because we were concerned with the topics discussed at the conference. Once we got home nobody's temperaments changed and dinner was less than enjoyable, to say the least. While we begged the kids to "just sit down and eat", Samuel gnawed on a piece of Crazy Bread. Once I finished eating and we managed to convince the kids, with much kicking and screaming, that they really did have to take baths/showers, I prepared a bowl of pureed peas for the little guy.
In mid-bite Samuel started screaming in pain. We wrestled with his tray and buckle as Brandon and I both scrambled to get him out of his seat, thinking maybe he was choking or had bit his tongue. He cried so hard he made his nose bleed. It terrified all of us. William was so scared that he puked. After getting out him out of the chair Samuel settled down and we shooed the kids off to the bathrooms.
Brandon took Samuel from my arms to bathe him as I continued to straighten up the kitchen. I could hear him screaming back in the bathroom and headed back to see what was going on. There was Samuel, wrapped in a towel, in Brandon's arms. He explained that Samuel wouldn't even let him sit him down in the water so he washed him up quickly and that was that.
"He must be tired. When I laid him on the floor in our room to start the bath he almost fell asleep."
I laid him down on the floor in his room and started to dry him off. Something wasn't right. His face was pale, even his lips and he could barely keep his eyes open. I dressed him and picked him up and his head flopped on my shoulders.
"We need to take him to the hospital," I thought. I fought the idea and decided to try nursing him instead. He was probably just overly tired. Nursing him always soothed him. It didn't work. As I tried to get him to latch he just cried and cried. Then he went limp again.
"Brandon, he won't nurse. I think I need to take him to the hospital."
I scurried about gathering my keys even as I held his pale body in my arms. Another crying fit and then lethargic once again.
I started to rush to the car and couldn't do it. I couldn't take my eyes off him. What if he stopped breathing? What was wrong? What was happening to my baby?!
"I can't take him alone. I'm too scared. Should I call a neighbor? Jill? My visiting teacher? What's her number? I can't think straight. Who can we get to watch the kids?"
"Get the kids in the car. Let's just go."
We threw PJs on everybody, I don't even know if any of them had shoes, and got in the van. I squeezed between the middle bucket seats and talked to Samuel as we drove, desperate for him to acknowledge me, to make eye contact, to smile. The kids were obviously and understandably terrified. I asked William to say a prayer as we drove.
Once arriving at Davis Regional, Brandon dropped me off at the emergency room doors. I went in with Samuel while he parked. I spouted off to the guy at the desk what was going on. He began filling in the paperwork and asking me the obligatory questions. I almost laughed out loud, despite my fear and concern, when he asked, "So, what would you say is your primary concern tonight?"
I didn't have any idea why I was there. I knew that I was prompted to be there. I knew I was undeniably concerned for my son, but I had no idea what was happening or what could possibly be wrong.
I muttered something about him being lethargic and pale and they motioned me to take him back to begin triage.
"He must be tired. When I laid him on the floor in our room to start the bath he almost fell asleep."
I laid him down on the floor in his room and started to dry him off. Something wasn't right. His face was pale, even his lips and he could barely keep his eyes open. I dressed him and picked him up and his head flopped on my shoulders.
"We need to take him to the hospital," I thought. I fought the idea and decided to try nursing him instead. He was probably just overly tired. Nursing him always soothed him. It didn't work. As I tried to get him to latch he just cried and cried. Then he went limp again.
"Brandon, he won't nurse. I think I need to take him to the hospital."
I scurried about gathering my keys even as I held his pale body in my arms. Another crying fit and then lethargic once again.
I started to rush to the car and couldn't do it. I couldn't take my eyes off him. What if he stopped breathing? What was wrong? What was happening to my baby?!
"I can't take him alone. I'm too scared. Should I call a neighbor? Jill? My visiting teacher? What's her number? I can't think straight. Who can we get to watch the kids?"
"Get the kids in the car. Let's just go."
We threw PJs on everybody, I don't even know if any of them had shoes, and got in the van. I squeezed between the middle bucket seats and talked to Samuel as we drove, desperate for him to acknowledge me, to make eye contact, to smile. The kids were obviously and understandably terrified. I asked William to say a prayer as we drove.
Once arriving at Davis Regional, Brandon dropped me off at the emergency room doors. I went in with Samuel while he parked. I spouted off to the guy at the desk what was going on. He began filling in the paperwork and asking me the obligatory questions. I almost laughed out loud, despite my fear and concern, when he asked, "So, what would you say is your primary concern tonight?"
I didn't have any idea why I was there. I knew that I was prompted to be there. I knew I was undeniably concerned for my son, but I had no idea what was happening or what could possibly be wrong.
I muttered something about him being lethargic and pale and they motioned me to take him back to begin triage.
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