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A problem with Rhema’s seizure medication leads to a late-night urgent message to the neurologist-on-call.
She directs us to take Rhema to the ER.
My Rhema is drugged, out of it, can’t talk, can’t stand.
I carry her backpack, her meds and all 52 lbs of her into the hospital as if she’s weightless.
She needs to be monitored right away.
She’s going to be alright. Thank you, thank you Lord.
But she doesn’t know where she is or why she’s here.
Seeing her this way tears my heart.
She slowly tries to open her eyes and focus on me.
Why is it so bright? Why are these strange people trying to wrap a band-aid with a red light around my finger? Forget that! My head is pounding, pounding.
Oh, now they’re trying to get the band-aid thing on my toe? No way, Mom. I just want to close my eyes.
Why did they partially unzip my PJ’s? PJ’s either stay all the way on or all the way off. None of this half on half off business. I have to get them off right now, Mommy! Help!
I don’t know why my body is so slow. Why aren’t my eyes working right?
Seriously? Mommy, seriously? You know I can’t stand to have anything stuck to my body. What are all these pads they’re sticking on my chest??? I’m so uncomfortable. I’m so scared, Mommy.
Please don’t let them come near my ears. Please.
I’m ripping this stuff off. I’m getting out of this bed. I won’t let them put anything on me!
Oh, I recognize this. They may get that awful thing wrapped around my arm. But there’s no way I’m going to stay still while it squeezes my arm. It really hurts my head. When will it stop squeezing me? Please, Mommy, make it stop.
I’m crying and humming and rocking because I’m so confused. I don’t know why I’m here. I can’t understand what anyone is saying. I don’t know what’s going to happen next. I want you to get me out of here, but I don’t have the words.
All I can do is fight, Mommy. All I can do is fight.
.
And all I can do is say these things to you, little girl, and hope you somehow understand: You’re ok. Thank God, you’re going to be just fine. And I am always, always with you. I know you don’t understand blood draws and O2 levels and temperature and blood pressure. And honestly, I wish it wasn’t so hard… sometimes the simplest things are so hard…
But my darling, I love the fight in you. I’m so proud of the strength in you. Don’t ever lose it, your tenacity, your will. It has and will serve you well.
You are my rain lily; the storm only makes you sprout bigger and beautiful.
You will last.
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Poor Rhema, and poor you. But lucky Rhema, for having a mommy who understands her, and lucky you for having such an amazing little fighter. I hope she feels better now.
you both have such strength. It’s inspiring to read. I’m sorry you both went through a night like that. I hope today is better.
So sorry you have to go through this. God give you strength.
thank you. she’s already better today.
Awww Jeneil. I hope the doctors figure out a way to help Rhema soon. It breaks my heart that someone as small as Rhema and as wonderful as you has to go through this storm.
xooxoxoxoxoxoxoox
Rhema is a fighter -a trait I think she inherited from her Mom. Love to you.
Ditto goodfountain. Hugs to you.
love and hugs and prayers sent your way today. She is such a strong little girl, with a very strong Mom. Love you guys!!
Long time reader and a first time commenter. I can’t begin to imagine what you and your family went through that night and continue to go through every day. You had titled one of your posts “when the storms won’t cease,” please know that we are all praying for a break in the clouds.
I love the photograph you paired with these words. It’s perfect.
Rhema is so strong. God is giving her what she needs to endure all that she must – a fighting spirit, and two parents who love her dearly and remind her constantly that she is never alone.
Oh, my heart! Ow.
Sometimes I can’t help but ask “why Lord??”
I’m so glad that your Rhema Lily is OK and so sorry that you had to go through such a scare.
So glad she’s okay. Been thinking of you constantly, sending love.
tears. i hope and pray she is alright. she is, as her mother, a fighter.