Small

The Mom, whose name is Sharon because I don't feel like cute nicknames right now, called me upstairs this morning. I was reluctant to go, because Autumn has finally arrived in New Jersey and the twins and I were celebrating by burning our house down. Well, not me, I was trying to light a fire in our wood burning stove, but the twins were all hands and arms trying to reach around me and spread it to the rest of our home. So when Sharon called, I balked. So she called again, and the second time there was an edge to her voice that made me move. I stuffed a protesting twin under each arm and headed upstairs.

Something was wrong with Kathryn. Getting out of bed, she had fallen, she had bumped her head. She couldn't stand; my wife was holding her. Help her get to the bathroom, my wife told me, she can't walk. But there's a reason that it takes two people to raise a child, because of course she could walk, here, watch. I took Kathryn's hands and we took a step down the hall. She dropped like a rock. Something was wrong with Kathryn.

The next few minutes stretched out for miles. Kathryn's left leg wasn't responding. Her left arm wasn't moving either. She didn't understand that this was happening because she wasn't understanding anything. "Kathryn," I asked, "how many fingers am I holding up?" She was looking off to her right, not at me, not at my fingers. "Two," she said. "Kathryn, my fingers are here, can you see my fingers?" I waved my hand, I waved it hard, my wife was looking at me, her eyes wide and scared, like mine. Kathryn didn't turn her head. "No. I lost them," she finally said.

We helped Kathryn onto the toilet, but it no longer mattered, she had lost control of her bladder already. We cleaned her up and I peppered her with questions. Did she know where she was, where she went to school, who her teacher was? She got them all right. Then I tried again with the fingers. I put one finger directly in her line of sight. "Kathryn, do you see my finger?" "Yes." I told her to follow it with her eyes and when I moved it, her gaze didn't shift. "I don't see it anymore, Daddy."

I broke several major traffic laws this morning getting here, to this hospital. It had taken Sharon and I several minutes to dress Kathryn in clean clothes, not just because her left arm wasn't responding but because Kathryn didn't understand that it wasn't responding, which made putting on her shirt somewhat similar to trying to knit a live sheep, but once dressed, we loaded her into the car. Sharon stayed behind with the twins and I drove at unreasonable speeds to this hospital that, until today, I would have said was 30 minutes away. Now I know it's only 10.

Halfway here, Kathryn started throwing up.

A few months ago I got an email. It was a letter from a gentleman whose wife was about to have their first child, and he wanted to know if it was really as bad as I present it to be. He had been reading this site for a while, reading while I gleefully related all the casual harm that parents and children inflict upon each other, and he wanted to know, before the child arrived, if it was really that bad. Of course, the answer is no, it's not. But sometimes, oh those sometimes, it is the scariest fucking thing you can ever imagine.

Sharon had called ahead to the hospital so they knew I was coming. The doctor met us at the door. It was just a hair past 8 AM. Now it's just past midnight and we are still here. Kathryn is asleep next to me, with exactly twenty-four EEG contacts glued around her blonde head, and she's snoring.

By mid-morning, Kathryn had almost returned to normal. She was still throwing up, but her body functions had returned and her ability to track a finger had, too. The doctors think that this morning she had a seizure, a whopper of one, that left her brain temporarily unable to do the things that a brain normally does. We are still here because they want to monitor her overnight.

I should be asleep, too. I know that there are people monitoring her right now, on little computer screens, and they'll know even before I do if something goes wrong, but she's so small. She's so small in this big hospital bed and she's got wires coming off her head and IV drips in her arm and something happened in her brain this morning, in her brain, and for a few hours this morning my Kathryn was gone, she was gone, and the spark in her eyes was dulled and I didn't know if it was coming back and she's so small. She's so small.

She's so goddamned small.

Comments

[kkonmymind]

Hugs to you and your family. You are all in my thoughts and prayers.

Kristen

[Shelby]

I'll be thinking of you guys and hoping everything turns out okay.

[amy]

I don't know what I"m typing through my tears here. My heart is in my throat for you and your precious girl. I hope everything is okay. (((love)))

[mommy24x7]

Oh dear God, I'm so so sorry this is happening to her. I know you've got to be so freaked out. I remember taking my Abby in for some kidney tests and thinking exactly the same thing - how tiny she is. Everything in the hospital is just huge, and they are so small. I will be praying for her and for you and Sharon. Thanks for letting us know. Keep us updated when you have the chance.

[jenny]

Thinking of all of you and hoping to hear good news soon. Big love headed your way from California.

[Lou]

Thinking of you, and wishing Kathryn all the best.

[Floreksa]

Thinking of you and your family. Praying for a complete recovery for Kathryn.

[Joy]

We all love you and your family and together we will all help you every way we can.

[R]

I'm sitting here with tears in my eyes. I will definitely be thinking of you all.

[Mort's Mom]

Brave girl Kathryn. Keep on getting better. Much love to all of you.
x

[Brooke]

Hug.

[debbeeanne]

Please know that you have lots of people praying for you guys out here. Hang in there.

[rachel]

All the best in thoughts and energy, for whatever that's worth, which I know is basically jack shit, relatively.

[Lori]

How terrifying. I'll be praying for you all.

[Lou]

Delurking to say I'm thinking of you and little Kathryn.

[Amy]

Spent last Monday in the ER with my 5 year old - something much less serious, but that fear and sense of helplessness is unreal. I am praying for you and your family.

[Shiri]

Oh, The Dad, how horrible. I don't even know what to say. Be brave, be strong for her. I know she will come out of it all right.

My thoughts and my prayers are with you, Kathryn, The Mom and the twins.

Hugs.

[Laura]

OMG How terribly scary! I hope she's back to her usual bouncy self very, very soon!
---Laura

[Johanna]

I hope your little Kathryn is feeling much better - it must've been really scary for all of you.
Our family is thinking of yours.

[Catizhere]

To The Mom & The Dad,
I hope that all ios well with Kathryn, Your family is in my prayers.

Yes, indeed, the scariest thing.

[Christine]

Best wishes for a speedy recovery. I'm sure it was so scary for all of you. But the best thing you could have done was get her immediate medical attention, which you did. I hope you can all stay brave and positive.

Kids are remarkably resilient, so hopefully Kathryn will receive a clean bill of health.

(my brother fell down an entire flight of stairs when he was in kindergarten, was unconscious for several minutes, and had a seizure. he was more upset about having to cancel his birthday party and miss halloween than anything, but he gave us quite a fright - and he learned not to try to carry all his GI Joes down the stairs at once. he is now a perfectly healthy 25 year old - I hope it ends up as well for Kathryn!)

[cindy]

Best wishes to Kathryn for a full and speedy recovery. I'm thinking about you all.

[Veronica]

My thoughts will be with you. Hopefully it doesn't happen ever again!

[Lisa Milton]

Here's to a swift recovery. You're in my thoughts and prayers.

[SarahK]

Ohhh I was fine until the last part. I hope all is well soon and that you guys will be home ASAP!