More Halloween Picture

I love that all my kids are so different looking. At gymnastics, the teacher asked Raea, "do you have the same mom or dad as your sister?"

School Parade

It is a awesome neighborhood tradition to watch the school kids parade around the school to show off their costumes. I couldn't miss it!

It was Larissa's first time joining the parade! And Ethan never left character.

It was worth all the anxiety about getting to work late.

And by the way, when did I get a kid too old for the parade? It's all a blur. This was Raea's first year not in the parade.

A long, torturous night

It was midnight, and I had been sleeping for only three hours. I am always more groggy after getting tempted with just a little bit of sleep. I heard a blood curdling noise coming closer to my bedroom door, and then a collapse on my hope chest located at the end of my bed. I knew it was one of the kids, “come here, baby. What is going on?!?”

“My head! My head!”

He has never complained of a headache before. In fact, THIS IS THE WORST HEADACHE OF HIS LIFE. Oh, no. It’s a subarachnoid hemorrhage.

“Come here.” I am too tired to move to pick him up.

“I can’t move.”

He can’t move? Is he paralyzed? Is this a stroke? AVM? SAH? I pull him on top of me to find he is moving all extremities and thrashing about.

“Calm down. What is going on?”

“I just woke up with a headache.” The cries have not stopped, and at times they get louder than ever.

Mass effect from a tumor? Laying flat with a tumor increased his intracranial pressure too high? I decide I have to assess him. “Honey, turn on the light.”

“Ou, ou, ouch! The light!”

Photophobia-- must be SAH or meningitis. Wait, the lights have been off for a while. In fact, the light is even bothering my eyes. “Sweetheart, just turn on the closet light.”

Desperate to differentiate meningitis, I lift his head to check for nuchal rigidity. “OUCH!”

That’s it; his neck is tender. “You scratched me.” Oops, I have been meaning to cut my nails for a while.

I check for Brudzinski’s sign. My heart drops. His knees are flexed up; it is positive. We need to go to the ER now. Should I drive or call the ambulance? I decide to elicit it again. Oh, he was never lying supine in the first place. He doesn’t have Brudzinski’s sign. He is just mad I am messing with his head. More screams.

“Honey, go get some pain medicine.” I contemplate appropriate drug dosages and all the drugs available to me in the hospital. I think I have left over liquid codeine from another kid’s recent surgery. My husband comes back with an infant dropper of acetaminophen.

“Seriously!?!?”

“It’s all we got.” Reading the package carefully. “We will have to give him 12 syringes for his weight, but we only have one or two.”

The worst torture in a parent’s life is to watch your child suffer. Surely the tears are a sign of something that I am not seeing. “Just give him something!”

Worried, my sweet child looks up at me and says, “What is happening to me?”

It’s the feeling of impending doom! I have seen it before. Whenever you have a patient tell you they think they are going to die, get the code cart. They are going to try. I am not ready. This is my baby!

“Is anything numb?” Still assessing for bleeding associated with an aneurysm or arteriovenous malformation, I realize he may not know what numb means. “Does anything feel funny?”

“Yes.”

That’s it. It is serious. “Where, baby?”

“My head. Right in the front. Like I said.”

Oh, so no paresthesia. He is intact. Running through the differentials I am worried. His wails scare me. I am paralyzed.

“Hey, do you want a drink of water?” my husband so bravely asks him.

“OK.” He sits up. Drinks, and for a brief moment, he is silent. Finally. He puts the drink down. He wiggles his body on top of mine and finds a comfortable spot. He is resting.

Then I realize. I guess kids just get headaches. He is quiet. He has settled. I resolved to call the pediatrician. In the morning. After I finish my sleep.

NOTE: This is the same child that limped for a month because he thought he broke his ankle until finally the pediatrician pulled me to the side and said, “He is fine. Put him down. He is using you as a high commodity wheelchair.”

My husband and I decided if it was one of our girls crying like that, we would have taken them to the hospital right away.

DISCLAIMER: I have been educated two additional years after my Master’s degree to assess, diagnose, and treat life threatening situations. It is my job to rule out the emergencies first. Unfortunately, I see them in my children first, too.

Ready for Halloween

Family Pet

Herston's preschool is doing a section on family pets, and they asked me to bring in pictures of Herston with his dog. Poor Herston, he takes the brunt of the licks.

P.S. I did not tell Herston to pose like that.

Hidden Photos

I love raiding other's phones and finding gems like this.

Fourth of July Weekend.

Utah.