too many titles

I could call this Another Nearly All Nighter...

or As My Angsty World Turns...

Or More Hospitals Than I Can Count...

but maybe we'll just leave it as, ala Guv Arnie...

I Need a Vacation...

Where to start? I don't even know where to begin. Is it when Thea first told me of her headache, last night around 7.30 PM...

Or when she was sitting on the floor by loo, looking awful...

Maybe when her hands were trembling uncontrollably, there by the toilet...

Perhaps when her mouth and tongue went numb, in that same bathroom or in the car, on the way to the ER when she couldn't feel her forearms.

Oh, I know... It was when the neurologist said that since nothing had turned up on the two CT scans it was probably her brain stem; perhaps she'd suffered a stroke.

Yeah. Over the last twenty-four hours, this is my life...

I wish I was making this up, but words like trans-cranial doppler, TEE (a test she has tomorrow where they numb her throat and put a tube down her esophagus to look at her heart), or lumbar puncture, which she had last night, as they tried to figure out why a headache had morphed into numb limbs, trembling hands, and most worrying, a loss of speech.

My witty, articulate eldest daughter couldn't find her words...

Why I went to bed at 2.30 AM this morning alone, in fear. Had she really suffered a stroke?

I kid you not, no way in the WORLD I could make up this stuff . Thea was admitted into the trauma unit of our nearby hospital due to her massive headache, frightening symptoms and a following nausea that saw her lose dinner all over the blanket after her first CT scan.

Tacos and Blondies aren't pleasant several hours later, but she was so out of it, her hands still not right, she didn't seem to mind.

This is scattered, but then, my life lately has been too. I know my tears came upon mention of a stroke not only due to the horrifying notion my gabby, intelligent twenty-year-old might have lost her power of speech. Something that would kill her, I knew, crying in the cubicle, Bob so close. He took me home, once we knew she was out (and from the drugs they gave her, she was REALLY OUT!).

Took me home, returning to stay with her, as more pokes and prods occurred, but as she said later, no memory of it.

She did recall the spinal tap (fluid was clear), how that hurt. She recalled the initial CT scan, still sick to her stomach, a headache on and off. She remembered getting that last, good shot of meds, because within seconds she felt it, said so. Her speech was still slow, but her face, slightly aware something had changed.

Something that at least would ease her pain.

This sucks. I mean, totally bites. And she's twenty years old! Not a baby, not a little one, but still MY BABY, my first born, my little girl who was fine all day, then attacked by a migraine, as nothing has shown up on any scans, MRI's, heart checks. There seems to be no other reason for this visit to hospital.

Which is GREAT! I mean, a stroke? Encephalitis or meningitis? TRA? (like a stroke, but leaves no tissue damage) PFO? (upper chamber heart trouble affecting young women) no, No, NO!!! No obvious reason for these last hours of my life, and if it means accepting it was a one-off miserable migraine, and she has no other outbreaks...

Well, okay. I'll do it. Because to think one's child has been afflicted permanently with some anguishing malady really...

Makes me cry...

Only an hour and a half of sleep did I get, cold, alone in bed, as we got in at 2 AM, windows left open. We had left before 9 PM, with Thea weak and shaky, having no idea how long we'd be there. I got into bed, as Bob went back to the trauma unit, and all I could think about was a stroke.

My baby might have had a stroke.

Perhaps she had an infection, but maybe... Maybe it was worse. I woke before 5 AM, unable to return to sleep. Knowing Bob was there, but not aware what had happened, I finally rose, got a shower, then found two texts from my hubby.

One was that she was still in the ER, hadn't been moved to ICU.

The other was they had started an antibiotic, in case that was the problem. Bob never texts, but for that situation, he'd figured it out.

I left even before Jay was off for school, the MRI my focus. They couldn't do it overnight, but first thing, thereabouts, she'd get her brain stem examined.

Bob was awake, and Thea asleep. Well asleep, and she would be zonked through most of the MRI. Bob went home, catching some ZZZ's while that took place, and I was alone in the three-bed trauma unit, a separate section of the ER. I sat in there, made notes for a story idea, wrote a note to Bob, which I still need to give to him. All day it was the two of us, back and forth, spelling the other, because once he returned, me to the house for lunch, Thea was moved to a regular room. With no real cause, the MRI showing all was clear and normal, her words having returned, condition stabilized, she was sent to a normal ward.

Cause for rejoice! But still, no answers...

She could talk, elucidate her ideas, thoughts, notions. Before she couldn't find those nuances, unable to put words to the pictures in her brain. Never before occurring, it scared us all, thoroughly.

And by tonight, she was still yakking. I left at 7, once she'd eaten, with one more test tomorrow. I'd love to have her home this evening, but with the IV necessary for that throat-gagging procedure, we said goodnight to her, and will see her bright and early for one more chance to figure out this dilemma.

I know this has nothing to do with writing, yet, it does. Because with all that's been swirling about, loved ones arriving, struggling, and now Thea! I'm toast, burnt and dry, only wanting my life returned. Bob's sandwiches, Jay to school, laundry, writing, repeat. That's me, angst in my work, real life plain, boring.

But not lately. More hoo haa than I want, but we don't get a choice. We get sick kids and ill beloved, new babies and no querying. I KNEW there was a reason I was putting that on the back burner...

Too much else to sort. I had edited Detours yesterday, with 30 pages remaining. I was going to complete that last bit today. Instead I sat in a hospital, two different areas, getting some research sorted (always novel fodder somewhere...). But mostly hoping, praying, waiting for news that my daughter was ok. So far, she is.

But no editing, only family. Only sitting, watching my child, seeing her cry, then resting peacefully. Wiping her tears, then hearing her words. Flowing, clever vocabulary that seemed impossible hours previous. Texting and emailing, calling and talking. Talking with Jay and Bud, one in my kitchen, the other at his place, letting them know their big sister was okay.

No time for fiction. Right now, it's factual, my life and this blog, both.