We had a medical scare last week, and we handled it like professionals. I hate that about us.
The day started like most days for our big family. I took our daughter Callie to preschool, and then, because it was fall break, our son Charlie had band practice at 9 a.m. I dropped him off on my way to take another son, Max, to college. Then I went home to help another son, Rowen, out of bed and into the shower. Rowen is 17, and one of my three sons with Duchenne muscular dystrophy (DMD), along with Max, 20, and Charlie, 15.
When I walked into Rowen’s bedroom, I was in a happy mood and singing to him. He was lying flat on his bed, his head off his pillow. He looked puffy and sick. I went from happy mom to concerned caregiver faster than you can read that sentence.
From normal to emergency to normal again
Rowen told me his heart was racing and asked me to help him sit up. I got him up, adjusted his hospital bed, and went to get the blood pressure cuff. His blood pressure was high and his heart rate was in the 150s.
I had forgotten to give him his morning medications the previous day. It was fall break, and I was out of my routine. The kids had all slept late and eaten lunch instead of breakfast. I didn’t realize it until late, after Rowen was already in bed. I had contemplated going down to wake him up, but decided to let him sleep.
Oh, how I wish I had that one to do over.
Rowen takes a medication to control his tachycardia, and we’ve sometimes had to hold it to conform with the clinical trial he’s participating in. Each time we did that, his heart rate became elevated. So when he told me his heart was racing, I knew it was because he’d missed his medication.
I gave him the dose he’d missed, but Rowen said he still felt bed. “We need to go to the hospital, Mom,” he told me.
I got our other son Chance to lift Rowen into his wheelchair because I didn’t want to have to roll him back and forth to get the sling under him while he was feeling this way. Then I called my husband, Jason, who made it home in time to drive us to the hospital. Chance agreed to pick up Callie, Charlie, and Max. Then I texted my oldest daughter, Lexi, to let her know what was happening.
At the hospital, Rowen was given his medication intravenously, and his heart rate soon came down and he felt immediate relief. The emergency room doctor consulted with his cardiology team in Colorado.
Once we knew Rowen was going to be OK, Jason took care of the other kids and then came back. He had arranged for Callie to stay at her grandmother’s until we had Rowen back home. Then Chance took Max and Charlie for their scheduled haircuts, and I was still able to take Callie and her sister Mary to get their flu shots. Everything was back to normal, but once I had time to stop and think about the day, I felt like I had run a marathon. I was wiped out.
It should have made me feel proud of all of us for doing everything so well, but it just made me feel sad. I hate that we are so good at emergencies. I rarely let myself feel sorry for us, but for a few hours I did. I don’t want to live a life where emergencies happen as often as mundane days. I don’t want to be good at navigating emergencies.
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