Arg. I try to remind myself daily to breathe- to really embrace the good things in life- and BREATHE. And usually I can make it through the day without havign to coach myself (one, two, three, breathe, one, two, exhale slolwly...). But yesterday I felt like a pirate- thrown off of the plank- into the cold, dark ocean..... and I forgot to breathe before I went in....
Okay- so the pirate analogy isn't a necessarily good one but the breathing thing is true. Ysterday at work I got a call from my mom....
"She's having some....ummmm involuntary movements.... " (my mom's so cute- she can't even say the word seizure... but uses some others pretty liberally)
Luckily I am only 5 minutes from home.
Here comes "Mommy-Pirate" to save the day. We give her Diastat- first time we have ever used it..... and....... NOTHING...... just a glazed-eyed-drunken-sailor-looking-seizure-having baby.
So I call the neurologist (it only seems like twleve hours to make it through the darn automated crap)..... and end up havign to take her to the local ER.
And in pirate terms, if the Children's Hospital in Buffalo is the ocean treasure with glittering gems and gold...... then we ended up in the supermarket puddle with a used up gum wrapper (still shiny but somehow something is missing???)
After three hours and a short conversation witht the doctor (seizures stopped about 5 minutes after being there). We are informed that the doctor's shift ended.... and he left...... What?? (Yeah, just left..... people actually FORGOT we were in the room until they walked by).
So after numerous calls to neurologist/pediatrician/hospital administration (yes, even I could not let that roll off like water on a duck- I am getting so assertive in my old age!) we have a "Plan Z" Which is pretty much the same as the all of the other letters of the alphabet.
Arg. Like a Pirate. Because no matter how much you are prepared for that water (Oh heck yeah, I can swim!) it doesn't prepare you for the shock of the cold- the shock of your daughter having a seizure AGAIN, the tiredness in your bones, the argusing and fighting with doctors to care, the hopelessness. Treading water..... hoping there's an island somewhere in the distance.... with beautiful tropical fruits, warm sandy beaches, and maybe a margarita...... someplace to call relief.