First and foremost, we have the world's smartest 22 month old. Last night on the Discovery Channel they had a show on child prodigies. No, Sarah cannot play Chopin on the piano, but she can push a bar stool over to the kitchen counter all by herself and climb up onto that said counter when no one is looking.
The BackgroundWe got a dog. She is a great dog. She is almost the perfect dog, she just does not have the capability to control her bladder for periods longer than three hours (our fault). But she had kennel cough when we got her. We took her to the vet who gave her some throat medicine. Dayton normally takes pills, but the vet who had the keys to the pills was in surgery, so we got the liquid medicine. That medicine had no child proof mechanism.
Saturday morning, we tried to give Dayton her medicine. She refused, so I put it on the counter with the intent to take it back and get the pills on Monday. We left for Provo and forgot about it.
We got home Saturday afternoon and started to prepare for both a Sunday fireside we were holding and Candice's work. I put Sarah at the table with some cottage cheese and went to email some people about the fireside. Candice ran upstairs to get changed. Five minutes later Candice came down and asked where Sarah was.
Medicine TakenIn those brief moments, Sarah crawled down her chair (they are bar level chairs), pushed one of our bar stools over to the counter, and climbed up the bar stool. In a few seconds, our 25 pound daughter drank enough medicine meant to last a 50 pound dog 3-4 days.
Candice found Sarah with the empty medicine bottle and we left immediately for the hospital. I was wearing jeans, a t-shirt, and flip flops.
Where To Now?We arrived at the closest hospital to us as Sarah's doctor was returning our phone call. I started running into the emergency room when Candice yelled out, "She wants us to go to Primary Children's"
She also told us to call Poison Control.
Note to all....Always call Poison Control first. Always. They saved Sarah's life.
Poison Control called Primary Children's and got the emergency room ready for us. Sarah was in her seat getting very sleepy two hours before her bedtime. Fortunately, Sarah hates when I put my hands on her head to give her a blessing. While I could not administer the act, I noticed placing my hand on her head got her acting, slapping it away. Mom started having her sing, "Twinkle, Twinkle Little Star"
In my mind I was screaming, "Sarah, stay with us!" I was terrified.
Twenty minutes later (and what seemed 40 red lights), we arrived at Primary Children's.
They were waiting for us.
What Did She Take?
The time of ingestion had passed beyond the pumping stage. The question was now figuring out what she had taken. They got us into a room where all they could do was strap electrodes to Sarah. The doctors came in and told us what she had taken.
It was a two part drug. Part one was an opiate meant to relax the patient and the second part was intended to slow down the effects of the opiate so it would last twice as long as normal.
That meant at least 16 hours of her body working to get it out of her system.
Waiting
For the next three hours, I held Sarah. Her breathing was slowing down, the effect of the opiate was kicking in. They put an oxygen tube onto her (nothing invasive) to bring the oxygen saturation up.
And we waited.
Sleeping Peacefully
Candice left. Sarah had received a blessing that brought peace to all of us. We had other duties to care for, and Sarah was going to be okay.
Three hours later (and my first complete watching of The Wedding Singer), they took Sarah and me upstairs. They told me that the time would come when Sarah's body would begin the process of dying, and that was when they would need to go into action.
They brought a bed in large enough for the two of us and we fell asleep. That may seem callous, but we needed our energy for what was to come. The nurses hovered over us, watching Sarah closely.
The chief resident woke me an hour and a half later. Sarah was drifting too deeply into sleep. I tried to keep her awake, but she could not wake up.
"It's time," the chief resident told me.
I held her close. My daughter was literally dying in my arms. We were at the mercy of the Creator and this highly skilled medical team.
They injected liquid into her IV. She woke up immediately, bright eyed, looked around. She then threw up.
"Oh yeah, I forgot to tell you, she is going to losing everything that is in her stomach."
But Sarah was awake!
But she was no longer going to be on the third floor.
They brought in a new bed and pedtriatic ICU was going to have its newest patient.
Numb3rs
They brought in a crib that looked like a portable prison for infants.
Apparently swallowing dog medicine is punishable by law.
ICU was an experience in it of itself. Everything was numbers. Nobody spoke English. "We injected 400 mg per 10kg for 18 sec 13 minutes ago. The patient is 22 months old, weighs 12.5 kg, ingested at 1700 hours."
Mind you, this is me trying to say everything that they said. But it was like 10 minutes of numbers that meant nothing to me.
They even gave me a four digit number to give to family members when they called so the hospital could release information concerning Sarah to them.
So is med school like the MTC for learning numbers?
Drop by Drop
Let me be very clear why Sarah needed to be in the PICU (pediatric ICU, pronounced Pick You).
Was she in danger? Yes.
Was she also the healthiest child in the PICU? By far.
The only reason she needed to be in the PICU was because of the nature of the antidote she was being given. Because the medicine she drank was an opiate, the antidote they gave her was the same antidote that they give to people who have overdosed on heroin (see Trainspotting or Pulp Fiction...we have not, but that is what we were referenced to). The medicine she drank lasted 16-24 hours, but the antidote only lasted 10 minutes. They could not give the antidote to her manually every 10 minutes for the next 17 hours, so they gave her a miniscule amount drop by drop.
And for the next 4 hours, she slept.
9:30 am
At 9:30, Candice and I were able to attend the sacrament meeting. I was still wearing my flip flops, blue jeans, and a t-shirt. Yet I walked on Holy Ground that day. We were walking where the Savior walked. I do not believe that was figurative.
The Broken Bread meant more that day. The Water of Life brought new meaning that morning.
Eventually due to the lack of beds, they moved her to the NICU.
Mssr. Salt and Madame Pepper
By 11:00 Sunday morning, she was in my arms again. She was still hooked up to everything, including the IV, but it was nice to have her in my arms watching Blues Clues. The mystery involved Mssr. Salt and Madame Pepper. That is as far as I got, because with everyone around us, Sarah threw up again. This was unexpected and it wound up all over me.
But I could not have been happier.
Still With UsI left to get cleaned up. Sarah was going to be just fine. I called Candice and then I called my parents. This is the first time I found out how cruel it was to leave family members out of the loop. I did not want anyone to worry since Sarah would be fine, but this was the wrong choice.
Sarah is sealed to my parents and Candice's parents, too. I have very little doubt, that both those that had gone before us and those that were yet to come were fighting for her in some way, but we left out those that were still with us.
My parents came up to watch over Sarah while Candice and I had our youth fireside that Sunday night on dating.
They brought physical food for me, and my Mom and Dad became heroes for Sarah reading books with her (Sarah's favorite hobby).
The Siwiks (our neighbors) became heroes as they babysat a bulldog named Dayton so we could be together as a family.
The End of the Story
Candice and I returned Sunday evening to find a blissfully sleeping Sarah being held by Granny. The hospital prepared a bed for Candice and a rocking chair for me.
And all three of us slept. Sort of. Sarah slept. I stole Candice's bed.
By Monday morning, Sarah was back to her normal fiesty self.
By Monday afternoon, Candice called me at work to let me know that Sarah was released.
One beautiful ending...previously when Sarah needed comforting, she always went to her mother. Now, she knows she can find comfort in her father's arms.
Now I know how our father feels when we come to him when we are broken. And I understand a little more about why "My arms are reached out still."
The BackgroundWe got a dog. She is a great dog. She is almost the perfect dog, she just does not have the capability to control her bladder for periods longer than three hours (our fault). But she had kennel cough when we got her. We took her to the vet who gave her some throat medicine. Dayton normally takes pills, but the vet who had the keys to the pills was in surgery, so we got the liquid medicine. That medicine had no child proof mechanism.
Saturday morning, we tried to give Dayton her medicine. She refused, so I put it on the counter with the intent to take it back and get the pills on Monday. We left for Provo and forgot about it.
We got home Saturday afternoon and started to prepare for both a Sunday fireside we were holding and Candice's work. I put Sarah at the table with some cottage cheese and went to email some people about the fireside. Candice ran upstairs to get changed. Five minutes later Candice came down and asked where Sarah was.
Medicine TakenIn those brief moments, Sarah crawled down her chair (they are bar level chairs), pushed one of our bar stools over to the counter, and climbed up the bar stool. In a few seconds, our 25 pound daughter drank enough medicine meant to last a 50 pound dog 3-4 days.
Candice found Sarah with the empty medicine bottle and we left immediately for the hospital. I was wearing jeans, a t-shirt, and flip flops.
Where To Now?We arrived at the closest hospital to us as Sarah's doctor was returning our phone call. I started running into the emergency room when Candice yelled out, "She wants us to go to Primary Children's"
She also told us to call Poison Control.
Note to all....Always call Poison Control first. Always. They saved Sarah's life.
Poison Control called Primary Children's and got the emergency room ready for us. Sarah was in her seat getting very sleepy two hours before her bedtime. Fortunately, Sarah hates when I put my hands on her head to give her a blessing. While I could not administer the act, I noticed placing my hand on her head got her acting, slapping it away. Mom started having her sing, "Twinkle, Twinkle Little Star"
In my mind I was screaming, "Sarah, stay with us!" I was terrified.
Twenty minutes later (and what seemed 40 red lights), we arrived at Primary Children's.
They were waiting for us.
What Did She Take?
The time of ingestion had passed beyond the pumping stage. The question was now figuring out what she had taken. They got us into a room where all they could do was strap electrodes to Sarah. The doctors came in and told us what she had taken.
It was a two part drug. Part one was an opiate meant to relax the patient and the second part was intended to slow down the effects of the opiate so it would last twice as long as normal.
That meant at least 16 hours of her body working to get it out of her system.
Waiting
For the next three hours, I held Sarah. Her breathing was slowing down, the effect of the opiate was kicking in. They put an oxygen tube onto her (nothing invasive) to bring the oxygen saturation up.
And we waited.
Sleeping Peacefully
Candice left. Sarah had received a blessing that brought peace to all of us. We had other duties to care for, and Sarah was going to be okay.
Three hours later (and my first complete watching of The Wedding Singer), they took Sarah and me upstairs. They told me that the time would come when Sarah's body would begin the process of dying, and that was when they would need to go into action.
They brought a bed in large enough for the two of us and we fell asleep. That may seem callous, but we needed our energy for what was to come. The nurses hovered over us, watching Sarah closely.
The chief resident woke me an hour and a half later. Sarah was drifting too deeply into sleep. I tried to keep her awake, but she could not wake up.
"It's time," the chief resident told me.
I held her close. My daughter was literally dying in my arms. We were at the mercy of the Creator and this highly skilled medical team.
They injected liquid into her IV. She woke up immediately, bright eyed, looked around. She then threw up.
"Oh yeah, I forgot to tell you, she is going to losing everything that is in her stomach."
But Sarah was awake!
But she was no longer going to be on the third floor.
They brought in a new bed and pedtriatic ICU was going to have its newest patient.
Numb3rs
They brought in a crib that looked like a portable prison for infants.
Apparently swallowing dog medicine is punishable by law.
ICU was an experience in it of itself. Everything was numbers. Nobody spoke English. "We injected 400 mg per 10kg for 18 sec 13 minutes ago. The patient is 22 months old, weighs 12.5 kg, ingested at 1700 hours."
Mind you, this is me trying to say everything that they said. But it was like 10 minutes of numbers that meant nothing to me.
They even gave me a four digit number to give to family members when they called so the hospital could release information concerning Sarah to them.
So is med school like the MTC for learning numbers?
Drop by Drop
Let me be very clear why Sarah needed to be in the PICU (pediatric ICU, pronounced Pick You).
Was she in danger? Yes.
Was she also the healthiest child in the PICU? By far.
The only reason she needed to be in the PICU was because of the nature of the antidote she was being given. Because the medicine she drank was an opiate, the antidote they gave her was the same antidote that they give to people who have overdosed on heroin (see Trainspotting or Pulp Fiction...we have not, but that is what we were referenced to). The medicine she drank lasted 16-24 hours, but the antidote only lasted 10 minutes. They could not give the antidote to her manually every 10 minutes for the next 17 hours, so they gave her a miniscule amount drop by drop.
And for the next 4 hours, she slept.
9:30 am
At 9:30, Candice and I were able to attend the sacrament meeting. I was still wearing my flip flops, blue jeans, and a t-shirt. Yet I walked on Holy Ground that day. We were walking where the Savior walked. I do not believe that was figurative.
The Broken Bread meant more that day. The Water of Life brought new meaning that morning.
Eventually due to the lack of beds, they moved her to the NICU.
Mssr. Salt and Madame Pepper
By 11:00 Sunday morning, she was in my arms again. She was still hooked up to everything, including the IV, but it was nice to have her in my arms watching Blues Clues. The mystery involved Mssr. Salt and Madame Pepper. That is as far as I got, because with everyone around us, Sarah threw up again. This was unexpected and it wound up all over me.
But I could not have been happier.
Still With UsI left to get cleaned up. Sarah was going to be just fine. I called Candice and then I called my parents. This is the first time I found out how cruel it was to leave family members out of the loop. I did not want anyone to worry since Sarah would be fine, but this was the wrong choice.
Sarah is sealed to my parents and Candice's parents, too. I have very little doubt, that both those that had gone before us and those that were yet to come were fighting for her in some way, but we left out those that were still with us.
My parents came up to watch over Sarah while Candice and I had our youth fireside that Sunday night on dating.
They brought physical food for me, and my Mom and Dad became heroes for Sarah reading books with her (Sarah's favorite hobby).
The Siwiks (our neighbors) became heroes as they babysat a bulldog named Dayton so we could be together as a family.
The End of the Story
Candice and I returned Sunday evening to find a blissfully sleeping Sarah being held by Granny. The hospital prepared a bed for Candice and a rocking chair for me.
And all three of us slept. Sort of. Sarah slept. I stole Candice's bed.
By Monday morning, Sarah was back to her normal fiesty self.
By Monday afternoon, Candice called me at work to let me know that Sarah was released.
One beautiful ending...previously when Sarah needed comforting, she always went to her mother. Now, she knows she can find comfort in her father's arms.
Now I know how our father feels when we come to him when we are broken. And I understand a little more about why "My arms are reached out still."
Comments
Wendy
How blessed to live where family is close. I hope you never have to take Sarah to the ER again (although statiscally it is highly probable you will!) Our parents definitely know about comfort in these situations. They've been thru it so much with us! I appreciate our parents more and more as I go thru my own parenting experience.
My father in law used to be a high council member and served at the PCH. In his experience, he was always deeply touched when he attended the sacramet meeting there. Pure religion is what is practiced at the PCH for all the reasons you described.
Love you!
I am so so happy she is alright!