My first post!

EEEEK! Somehow, now that's I've got a blog, I can't think of anything to say!! Well, I guess I'll start with the biggest happening around here recently.

A little over 2 weeks ago, I heard what my mommy brain interpreted as one of my boys throwing up in their room. So I bounded out of bed and was in the room in less than a couple of seconds, while Chris was still trying to figure out what was going on. What I saw was not what I expected, and even now, my stomach hurts thinking about it.

My oldest son was laying on his bed, but he wasn't throwing up. Instead he was having a tonic clonic seizure. His whole body was thrashing about and he sounded like he was gagging. I screamed to my husband, "He's seizing!!!!" Chris rushed in, and I rushed downstairs for the phone. Wouldn't you know it? The upstairs phone had broken that day.

I had the first aide mantra going on in my head. 1. Make sure he's on his side. 2. Make sure he can't hit his head. (Well, he had been sleeping on his side and was on his bed. If you're going to have a seizure, that's the place to do it.) 3. Get help.

I got down the stairs saying to myself, over and over again, 'call 911, call 911, call 911'. Without being asked, I told them my 10 year old son was having a tonic clonic seizure, never had one before, and our address. I think I said it all in one breath.

Collin had stopped seizing by then, and Chris had carried all 88lbs of his limp form down the steps. He was in that post-dictal state. He couldn't respond and his brain still needed to reboot. Finally, he was able to grunt at us when we called his name, and before we got to the hospital, he could hold a conversation. When he responded angrily to the EMT when she asked him if he had accidentally or on purpose taken someone else's medicine, I was so relieved. This was my baby. LOL!

Our biggest fear, after he was able to respond to us, was if he had had a bleed in his brain. You see, four years before, my husband, Chris, had walked into the living room to me having a tonic clonic seizure. Again, no history whatsoever. I have a snarl of capillaries in my brain that had caused a bleed. That set my brain off into status epilepticus, a nasty little thing were you seize again and again without actually having time for your brain or your body to really calm down. So you can imagine our fear.

But the CT scan and blood work were fine, so they sent us home with strict instructions to get an MRI and a sleep deprived EEG ASAP. We were scheduled for an MRI on Sunday and EEG on Monday. Chris took Collin to the EEG. He hadn't been home more than an hour when the phone rang.

Chris came out of the kitchen and said that it was the pediatric neurologist and he needed to see us today. It was 10 am and our appointment was 3 pm. It was the longest 5 hours of my life. Chris and I kept looking at each other and trying not to dissolve into tears.

Do you know how long it takes to get into see a neurologist, let alone a pediatric neurologist? A lot longer than an hour. All I could think of was a tumor. You know how your mind jumps to the absolute worse case scenario, even though your gallantly trying to hang on to your logic? That was us.

F.i.n.a.l.l.y 3 pm rolled around. We played cards in the waiting room. My hands were shaking so badly that I could barely hold the card. We went into the office and the doctor calmly asked us numerous questions. I sat there screaming in my head, "Tell me what's wrong! NOW!!". Eventually, he told us the MRI was fine. Sigh of relief. At last, he shows us the EEG. And there, clear as day are these jagged up and down lines. Collin had a seizure disorder.

Can you believe that I actually smiled at that? That's right, because it wasn't a bleed and it wasn't a tumor. I turned to Chris as we left and said, "This, I can handle."

Am I handling it? I'm still sleeping on the futon mattress in the boy's room. But I am actually sleeping. So that's a huge change from a week ago when Collin's every turn, grunt, mumble, breath gave me an adrenaline rush. All I could do was watch him all night and picture his poor little body seizing while there was nothing I could do but watch. I know it will continue to get better with time and a baby monitor so I can go back to sleeping in my room.

So yes, I can handle this.