xeryfyn's Diaryland Diary ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- One Step Forward, Two Steps Back I thought it was over. I thought we had put it all behind us. She had finished off her anitbiotics, gotten rid of the short barking cough, her runny nose was even starting to taper off. We even managed to squeak through the odd rashy reaction that she had developed as a result of the antibiotics. We spent more time in more doctor's waiting rooms, saw that she had a textbook case of a viral reaction to penicillin, waited it out and the spots that covered her from the soles of her feet all the way up to the rooster tail hair on her head eventually faded into memory. We were done. She went back to daycare, I went back to work. All was fine. Until. Last night, while frantically trying to get over the 30,000 word hump, I heard her. She was screaming like she was having a nightmare. It was familiar and scary. When I saw her in her crib, rigid and shaking, I knew it wasnt over. Not yet, anyway. Another seizure, this one shorter and yet indeterminately long. I held her this time, trying to keep calm while my baby was shaking. We hurried down to the pediatric emergency ward at the university. It was so quiet that night on the ward, all eyes were on her. She suffered through more blood tests, a catheter to test her urine and another godawful chest xray, strapped in a plastic cage to keep her torso still while she howled and cried. They came to us and said her white blood cell count was skyrocketing. More tests were needed, a round of anitbiotics injected, a follow-up appointment on Wednesday with the same head pediatrician at the Royal Alex Children's Pavilion. They said she would be fine. That sometimes these things just happen to young kids. That she would only have a slightly increased risk of developing epilepsy. The word terrifyingly loud in my ears. Both Dwyane and I are home today, trying to catch up on the sleep that we missed last night while waiting for lab results to come in, watching over our girl who seems bright and sunny--apart from the raging fever that doesnt seem to want to quit. We were lucky this second time too, I guess. She was already lying down when she started seizing, and the first time she was strapped into her carseat safely. I am anxious now, more than ever, overly vigilant for that moment when she might simply fall down as she runs, carefully watching that she does not fall and hit her head like my cousin did and lose all the things that she has gained over the last 17 months. True that he lost 17 years but nevertheless, I watch her. Trying desperately to act somewhat normal, so she isnr unduly alarmed. It is hard and I am afraid. So afraid. 1:46 p.m. - 2003-11-25 ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- |
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