Memories

The other day, as I was driving to Portland, I pulled out a long-forgotten CD from my console as I was looking for some new music.  The CD was labeled "Momma's Mix" and Kirsten made it for me during one of my lowest times since Angie came to us.  I am still touched by the compassion of my then-18 year-old daughter.  Each song on the CD has a message of hope and perseverance through trials and as I listened to it now, I was transported back in time.  The memories of that time came to me all day long as I went about my business.  Actually, I have been thinking about it ever since.

When Angie was 18 months old, her doctor determined that Angie needed surgery to remove her tonsils and adenoids to treat sleep apnea.  She had begun having seizures 4 months earlier, so we expected the procedure to be comparatively unconcerning.  She would stay one night because of her age and we would take her home the next morning. We had no idea.....

During the surgery, Angie had begun having respiratory problems that required doctors to perform rescue measures.  She struggled to keep her oxygen levels up even with the supplemental oxygen.  As I sat in the waiting room, the 45 minutes that I was told the surgery would last stretched to over 2 hours.  Finally the nurse came to let me know what had happened.  By then, Angie was stable and we were taken to her room.

The next morning, Angie was still unable to be weaned from the oxygen and she had developed a nasty cough.  At noon, Toby went downstairs to get some lunch for us.  Five minutes later, Angie turned blue and her oxygen levels plummeted, sending the monitors into an uproar.  Nurses turned up the oxygen and her levels continued to fall.  At this point, I was asked to step back and a Rapid Response Team was called.  She was crashing.  I can't remember exactly what happened next, but we ended up in the Pediatric ICU unit (PICU) where Angie would stay for 26 days.  She had somehow aspirated fluid into her lungs during the surgery and she had severe pneumonia in both lungs.

Each day in the PICU, doctors visited and updated us on Angie's condition and the plan for the day.  They tried new medications and oxygen settings. Angie was in a world far away where we could not reach her, not regaining consciousness for over 2 weeks.  Each night, I slept in a common sleeping room with other worried parents like myself as I waited for good news.  And I prayed.

One day in particular stands out to me, about 10 days after Angie became sick.  Jordan was playing high school basketball that year and she had a game at Catlin Gable in Beaverton.  We talked to the nurse that day and she encouraged us to go to the game and promised to call if anything changed.  We were stuck in traffic on our way back to the hospital when she called.  She told us that Angie's reserves were getting low (she had little fight left) and that we must come quickly.  The doctors had decided to intubate Angie and place her on a ventilator and they wanted us to be there.  There is no positive spin here.  They were unsure she would make it.  On this day, Toby mistakenly sent me a text message meant for a friend that said, "It is really looking bad and I don't think Kara knows".  But I knew.

I have to keep these memories and bring them out sometimes, as difficult as they are.  They are the thoughts that bring me hope when I am discouraged.  The memories of this time remind me how truly strong our family is.  The memories tell me that God can and does perform miraculous healing-even more than once per person:). The memories keep me fighting to find new and better treatments for my children, and for other people's children.  The memories tell our family story.

Angie came home 26 days after surgery to remove her tonsils and adenoids.  During that time, her surgeon visited every day, even his day off, and apologized to us kindly every day even though he was not at fault.  Joshua celebrated his 9th birthday with a party in the hospital atrium.  Toby and I took turns sleeping at the hospital and caring for the kids at home.  Angie recovered from pneumonia, only to then develop a blood infection from her central line. She became physically dependent on the narcotics that controlled her pain and had to complete a medically managed withdrawal process before she could be discharged.

On that 26th day, I could not wait for our family to be together again.  Not one of us was unchanged by Angie's illness and the kids still talk about it occasionally.  I am sorry that Angie was sick, but I am not sorry for what I have learned.  My faith was strengthened and my compassion for parents with sick kids is heightened.  I have kept my CD in the player for now, but I am ready to put the memories away until I need them again.

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