Holy Fucking Shit!

At 7:10 pm last night, three Firemen and four Paramedics are standing in our living room. They have the situation under control and are providing assurances.

Wait, let me backtrack.

At 6:30 am this morning The Boy woke up with a fever and slight cough. He was sleepy most of the day.

At 7:02 pm last night The Boy's fever spiked and he had a femoral seizure and started convulsing.

At 7:02:15 pm P and I figuratively crapped our pants. P is holding The Boy, I race for the phone.

At 7:02:30 pm the 911 dispatcher is walking us through the situation. It's a small comfort as The Boy is still convulsing in P's arms.

At 7:04 pm the seizure is pretty much over. The Boy is on his side, moaning, but thankfully breathing normally. P and I join in and start breathing again ourselves. We wait for the ambulance to arrive.

The Paramedics give The Boy a quick exam, measure his blood sugar and administer some Tylenol. Aside from being lethargic and covered in his own drool, he was fine.

Femoral seizures are apparently common with toddlers, and can happen when their temperature spikes quickly. The seizures look serious (what seizure doesn't?) but cause zero brain or physical damage.

So damage to kid zero. Damage to parents huge. I mean, how can you watch your kid convulse and not freak?

By 7:20 pm P and The Boy are in an ambulance on their way to Children's Hospital. I follow along in the car. Ironically earlier that evening P and I decided NOT to take him there.

P: Should we take him to Children's?
Me: Not unless we have to.

Well, the decision was made for us.

The Emergency Ward at Children's Hospital... sigh, we're tired of that place. Not that there has ever been a real emergency, but as newbie parents we probably went there a bit more than we needed to. And because there's never been a real emergency, we always get pushed down the queue. So we wait, and wait, and wait, and wait some more. The time before this we were there for more than seven hours before being discharged at 3:30 in the morning!

No parent wants to end up at a hospital, but if my only complaint is how long it takes I should be thankful. Most of the families there have far bigger worries.

In the end no matter how much they try to make the place kid-friendly (the TV stand is labeled the Jolly Cart for instance), Children's Hospital is still a hospital, with real life dramas taking place daily. When you see the emergency team pushing a gurney down the hall with an infant lying on top, it really puts your own problems in perspective.

We are just relieved The Boy is okay.