😢 12/17 8:15 am

 I woke up this morning. Right before the x-Ray person arrived. The X-ray seemed to really stimulate Ethan. He began to get a little delirious. Then he became a lot delirious. They had weaned his sedation over night and he was really out of sorts. Out of sorts in a concerning way and I asked to give him more.  

His breathing tube was making an odd noise with every rhythmic breath in. It was a flapping noise, like the cuff in the tube wasn’t blown up all the way. I asked about it. It was not a normal sound. The respiratory therapist came in and was tweaking some settings. Ethan was trying to tell me something. He kept pointing at the door and slamming his hand on the bed.  He was frustrated. It seems like he was pissed that he was tethered because he just wanted to leave. He was kicking his feet and moving his rear by pushing up with his feet.

His oxygenation started to drop. I had him focus on his breathing and he was trying to take deep breaths. His eyes kept rolling back like they do sometimes. Still slamming his hand on the bed. “Ethan your job is the breathe and relax” I kept saying over and over calmly. This has always settled him.

Then I knew trouble was brewing. His eyes became fixed, open and straight ahead. His pupils became so small. It was so eerie. I know that look. His heartbeat stopped. Stopped. Nothing. His face vacant.

Within 10 minutes of me waking up, I watched my first born die. It was so silent but so loud.

Then the circus of chaos burst into the room. It was fast and plentiful.  All hands on deck in one quick tornado of a move. I tucked up in the corner with a sense of calm.  Deep down I knew that it wasn’t his time to go. I knew it. Today was not the day. I have a good gut.  I trust it.

“Start chest compressions” yelled out a voice. It became very systematic. Ethan’s nurse who has worked with him several nights, who put so much care and work into him was now fighting for him when he couldn’t.

There was a doctor at the end of the bed that had a loud, calm voice that was calling the shots. She called out orders as she monitored his vitals closely. She was calling out emergency drugs to start and staff was running, running fast to get it. I could hear their swift footsteps down the hall.

I think every staff member was in our room as I tucked myself in the corner to stay out of the way. Two people came over and asked me to step out. “No!” I don’t even know what happened to my voice but it was low, confident and very reflective of my answer. “I am fine.”I wasn’t going to bail. I needed to be there.

“Call out when it has been 2 minutes of chest compressions.” The doctor called out. Those two minutes felt so long. His nurse was putting her all into chest compressions on his nicely healed chest.  His incision was disrupted and with every compression he was bleeding. I still didn’t want to leave.

I hear a voice say “it’s been 2 minutes.” Ethan’s nurse switched out with this guy that was so tall. He took over the compressions.

They had the bag they were inflating his lungs with. It makes a weird low, hissing and vibrating noise with every expiration. It was slow and steady. 

“Call out when it has been another 2 minutes” boomed out the lead doctor.

Come on Ethan, I thought. You got everyone’s attention. 

More drugs were called out and administered.

“Get the paddles ready.” 

I could see Ethan’s face throughout the whole thing. Open eyes, expressionless, but his lips were pink and that made me feel good.  A little pale but still pink.

I feel like the last 20 something years of being a vet tech has prepared me mentally for this. I am able to shut off the emotional part of my brain and think clinically. I deal with the emotional part later, on my own time, privately.

“It’s been another 2 minutes” I hear the voice call out.

“Check for a pulse!” Ordered the lead doctor. Everything stopped in the room except the guy administering the breaths.

“There is no pulse” someone called out.

I wanted to shake him and yell “Ethan Jacob, this is your mother!  You need to start your heart immediately!”

The paddles were being placed on his chest.

About 5 minutes in, I hear the most glorious words. “We have a heartbeat.” Immediately the tension in the room is lifted but not the amount of work being done.

The vascular team rushed in and put in the beginning prep work for ECMO.  That doesn’t mean he will get ECMO but it provides more access in these situations.

Some doctors came out and spoke with me. They had done small changes on his vent and sedation overnight. I told them that he needs something for anxiety. He knows it is not going well and is so anxious. The doctors agreed that his anxiety seems to be pushing him into these crisis events. Who wouldn’t be anxious?  My intestines are currently in a beautiful braid made with anxiety.

He is stable now and has earned heavy sedation as well as being back on the paralytic. This will allow for him to rest, have the team come up with a different plan as of course, Ethan isn’t following the rules medically.

I could wallow in the disappointment that this is going to set us back tremendously. I might be a little bit. But I have to gravitate to, what is the bright side? There is always a bright side.

What is the bright side is that this happened in a hospital setting and not at our house? If they can control the lung pressure we don’t have to worry as much when we get home. Perhaps this was a warning to the doctors that he just needs more or different support. The bright side would be that it happened here. The bright side is he is still here to be a pain in my ass and turn my hair grey. He is not going to let me off the hook that easy. 

The bright side is, I am determined more than ever to get him home safely. All good things.  I am looking on the bright side the morning my kid died in front of me. When you feel you are having a bad day, please use those words. “What is the bright side?” You may have to look for it but it is there.

Also, yes it snowed a lot overnight. I will not be first to the shower today.