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Printed from https://shop.writing.com/main/books/entry_id/378217-Back-to-Motts
Rated: E · Book · Emotional · #976801
Journal writings about my youngest son's journey with spina bifida
#378217 added October 9, 2005 at 11:05am
Restrictions: None
Back to Mott's
Within half an hour, the doctors had started an IV on Jack and the ambulance was ready to go. The ER doctor explained what was happening and assured me we were safe in the ambulance. "These guys will know how to take care of him if anything happens." The EMT's had me sit on the stretcher, holding Jack in my arms.

Normally, the trip to Mott's takes almost an hour and a half. In the ambulance, it took about forty minutes. Jack slept the whole way, snuggled against me under his blanket. The EMT sat next to me and kept an eye on Jack's vitals, talking quietly with me to keep me calm.

Once at Mott's, things slowed down. Jack's temperature was now 103 degrees. The antibiotics he had received were good for twenty-four hours, so there was nothing more to be done, now, but wait and run tests. Blood was taken to run cultures on. They put a bag in his diaper to collect his urine. A lumbar tap was discussed and put on hold. It carried risks, because of the surgery, that the doctors would rather not take.

Jack and I waited. My husband joined us mid-morning, looking stressed and fearful. The night and morning had been hard on him, being seperated from his little boy who was so sick. Knowing there was nothing he could do, but wanting desperately to be with us.

Jack was being admitted to Mott's, again. We were just waiting for his room to be ready on the 5th floor. They would start an IV, because he wasn't drinking well or eating. He would be hooked up to not only a pulse ox, but also chest monitors, this time, that would more closely watch his heart rate and breaths per minute.

He continued to either sleep or cry, screaming in pain when doctors examined his back or legs. I wanted to scream at them. They could see they were hurting him; why didn't they try to be more careful?? The fear was palpable. Overwhelming. I had to be Jack's safe place. To let him lean against me and feel safe, loved, and taken care of. I wasn't supposed to let Jack know I was scared. And - please help me, God - am I failing at that, too?

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Printed from https://shop.writing.com/main/books/entry_id/378217-Back-to-Motts