Catching Idle Butterflies

The Terror of Terror

6:30 my parents arrived for supper. They also brought along their 11-year-old miniature schnauzer, Maxine. Being stressed from the move, and as yet unused to the new house, they decided not to leave Maxine alone in the house.

Rufus being her normal excitable puppy self thought, "A new friend! Yippee!" then proceeded to play with Maxine by bowling her over. Maxine yipped, Dave tried to grab Rufus and Tom proceeded to yell.

Dave said he'd take Rufus downstairs.

"No," Mom said, "The dogs will work it out amongst themselves if we stay calm."

Tom didn't calm down, nor did Dave.

Finally I yelled, "Dave, take Rufus downstairs and leave her there. All she's doing is pissing Mom and Tom off."

"I'm not mad," Mom said. "Tom is."

"Fine," I said. "Tom's pissed, so take Rufus downstairs."

With the dogs quickly working things out on their own, everyone calmed down.

Dave and Tom went outside to watch over the ribs on the grill, and I busied myself with the side dishes.

That's when I noticed Mom looking ready to cry. I simply watched, just in case I misinterpreted her look. Besides, I know her well enough, she doesn't like to be noticed when she's upset about something.

Until she began to cry.

I sat next to her and wrapped her arm around her shoulders.

"What's wrong?" I asked.

She said nothing. I waited.

With a few false starts she whispered, "I haven't eaten in three days, and I'm retaining water. I think I'm going into kidney failure."

She also told me not to tell Tom, because she's afraid he will leave her (very long story, that one).

She then whispered over and over, "Help me. Please help me." After repeating to her I would for a minute or so, I realized she couldn't hear me. She was praying.

After asking her a few questions about what she wanted to do, and her sinking deeper into a panic attack, I ran outside to tell Tom and Dave we needed to take her to the hospital.

We ran back upstairs, and Tom ran to her to help her up.

Mom cowered from him and said, "Keep him away from me. Don't let him touch me."

Tom staggered back, stunned. Standing in between them, I reached out and rubbed Tom's arm, knowing by his expression his heart just broke.

Dave threw Maxine in our bedroom, dragged Rufus down to the garage and with Tom's truck keys, went to start it.

With more confusing discussion, Mom relented and begged Tom to come with Dave and I to the hospital.

Getting her off the couch took effort on all our parts. Panic and terror continued to grab a hold of her. I think she firmly believed if we took her to the hospital she would die there.

With Tom on one side, and me on the other, we helped her into the truck. Tom drove while Dave and I sat in the back seat. Mom collapses, laying her head on the middle console.

She didn't move or speak. I became so frightened, I placed my hand on her side to check her breathing.

She breathed normal, slow, but normal.

Tom also began to reach panic when she didn't move. "Please, Jean," he said. "Talk to me. Talk to your daughter."

I leaned forward and put my head near hers asking if she was okay.

"Okay," she whispered, almost too softly for me to hear.

"Please help me," she began again. "I'm so scared. Please, Jesus help me."

I closed my eyes and prayed as well, whispering over and over, "He's here, He's here. It's okay. He's here."

When we reached the hospital, I ran inside while Dave and Tom helped Mom. I went to the receptionist and told her, "My mom is having a panic attack, and she's afraid she's going into kidney failure"

"Did you want to go to the clinic or emergency room?"

"I don't know."

"Which is the more serious condition? The panic attack or her kidneys?"

"The panic attack. But if we get her care right away for her kidneys, she'll calm down."

The receptionist said, "She will get more immediate care in the emergency room."

"Let's take her there."

Mom did not want to get into the wheelchair, but the receptionist, that beautiful, beautiful woman calmly said, "We'd feel better if you did. We will get you help much sooner."

We all then helped Mom into the chair, ignoring her protests.

Once she sat down, she collapsed again, leaning her head on her arm.

The receptionist in the emergency room proceeded to ask for all of Mom's information. At this point I was glad Mom had mentioned things about her health, but I still had to tear apart her purse to find her identification and insurance card. I also found a prescription bottle which I kept on top, knowing the doctors and nurses would need it.

With that all done, in likely less than ten minutes, though still not fast enough for Tom, a nurse pushed Mom into a private room until a bed became available. Dave and Tom went for a walk while I stayed with Mom, whispering to her and cleaning her face from all her crying.

She barely noticed her surroundings, but she was lucid enough to blow her nose when I asked.

When Tom and Dave returned a few minutes later, Tom waved at me so we could talk. I asked Dave to watch over Mom and I followed Tom into another empty waiting room.

"It's all my fault," he said, tears dripping down his cheek. "If I hadn't yelled about the dogs, she wouldn't have panicked." He went on to point out all the other things he could have done, or did wrong. I tried to tell him it wasn't his fault, but I knew he couldn't and wouldn't listen. So I let him unload, figuring once he did, he could focus on helping Mom.

Still heartbroken from Mom cowering from him at the house, he said, "Be sure to tell the nurses it's all my fault,"

I could only agree to his request.

When we returned to Mom, not five minutes passed when a nurse came by to wheel her to the emergency room.

We followed along, but left as two nurses helped Mom undress. I then came back in, just to be close to her. The nurse started asking me questions about medications, allergies and the like. I gave her the prescription bottle, but knowing nothing else, I turned to Mom and asked her.

"Novocain," she said. "No Novocain. That's what killed my kidneys 15 years ago."

I also pointed out to the nurse Mom's MedicAlert pendant she wears around her neck.

Mom faded in and out as the nurses checked her vitals. I was pleased to see her heart beating normal. Though her blood pressure was on the low side, it was still high enough to cause no concern.

When the doctor came to talk to her, she could no longer speak. I think it was due mostly to the continued attack and exhaustion.

Here's where my mom impressed me. Though she couldn't speak she indicated she wanted to write down someting. We found a small pad and red pen and when we gave it to her, she wrote down all the medication she's taking, including the amount, as well as the things she absolutely cannot have, such as dye. Go Mom! To be that lucid to write down all those details amazed me.

She then kept saying, "Creatin(sp). Check for creatin."

The doctor nodded and said, "I'll order the tests right away."

When the nurse returned to take a urine sample, Mom smiled and said, "Yes."

After taking her to the bathroom, and the nurse got the sample, Mom felt much better. I could see it. She stood up straighter and smiled at me. We then returned to her bed and waited for another nurse to come take a sample. Mom started to fade again, but this was more due to exhaustion than panic. I told her she could sleep, but she shook her head, wanting to make sure the nurses knew what to do.

Tom came in while the nurse was helping Mom back into bed and whispered, "Did you have a long talk with the nurse about this being all my fault?"

"Tom, no one cares what started the panic attack. All they're interested in is treating it."

He nodded and we went into the hall to give the nurses more room.

Tom again proceeded to proclaim his responsibility and I again said, "Tom, it's not-"

His expression halted me.

"You aren't going to convince me it's not my fault," he said. "I'm going to blame myself no matter what anyone says."

I smiled. "I know."

We left it at that.

Though for a few minutes after a second nurse took a blood sample to check Mom's creatin levels (the byproduct kidneys filter out of the blood. The lower the number, the better), Mom reverted to panic mode. Still unable to speak, she wrote down her thoughts. They were mostly one word statements of fear.

At one point, and I praised God for this, Mom reached out to Tom and told him her fears that he would leave her. Tom took her hand, and knowing they needed to be alone I left to sit with Dave in the waiting room.

I went to check on her one more time, but she and Tom were still talking, so I left.

Tom returned about a half an hour later stating her creatin levels were just fine and the doctors had okayed her release.

Woohoo!

Either they had given her happy drugs, exhausted, or she was merely joyful over learning she wasn't dying, Mom walked around in euphoria, proclaiming even the lights in a furniture store as "pretty" as we drove home. She even said she would frame the test results she was so happy about the numbers.

All this took place in less than three hours. We arrived back home by 9:30.

Best of all, when we returned home and reheated the food, Mom ate and drank some water (though only with much prodding on our part). I'm hoping now this episode will remind her to take better care of herself (she doesn't eat but maybe one meal a day, and even then it's not much), as well as realize Tom will never leave her, healthy or sick. I've always loved him for how much he loves her and treats her so well.

As for me, I hope to never see anyone go through a panic attack again, let alone experience one for myself.

I am glad I was there to help. Dave also provided everyone with much needed support. Though he said little, his quiet strength and willingness to do whatever was asked of him with no hesitation kept Tom and me calm, and made me fall in love with him all over again.