Testing the Mettle

This morning I overheard a conversation between my two oldest:

"Ben, they took my blood, just like they did yours."

"Oh, wow! Did it hurt?"

"Yeah, I hated it."

"Me too."

And they bonded over needle sticks.

Kyrie started having abdominal pain Sunday morning. She is never sick and when she told me her stomach hurt I didn't think much of it. But she was crying shortly after noon and doubled up. She watched TV on the couch and then drifted in and out of sleep. I was forcing liquids down her, including an herbal tea with a laxative effect. I thought she might have gas or constipation but by the time I came back from grocery shopping late in the afternoon, I wasn't so sure. She was crying in pain in her sleep and wincing if you so much as brushed her abdomen. She couldn't eat, could barely drink. I used my diagnostic resources and decided it was: 1) a urinary tract infection, 2) an intestinal blockage/constipation or 3) appendicitis. She had a fever but no other symptoms. My dad agreed. But he was a little worried too.

I finally called an on call doctor around 5:30pm. He was really concerned she couldn't walk upright and hadn't moved off the couch. He said to take her to ER. Ugh. I called friends who told us to bring Ben and Evie over.

And to ER we went. They tested her urine. Took blood. Took X-Rays. An ultrasound. Two different doctors came in and tried different things. Could she jump? Yes. Meanwhile, she was feeling a little better and her fever had come down. But still in pain. Mike went and took the other two kids home.

One doctor came in and suggested that she should stay overnight. I asked the purpose. "Just in case, so we can monitor her. We can't rule it is appendicitis but we can't rule it out either." I asked him to give me more reason to stay. He couldn't. "You can take her home and monitor her yourself too."  I asked for a few minutes to think it over and talked to Mike on the phone. I really didn't know. I was tired and she had gone from wanting to stay to wanting to leave. So we finally decided to leave, which the second doctor seemed to come in and affirm as a good decision. They dosed her on antibiotics in case she had an urinary tract infection.

We came home. She wanted to eat but I was still nervous about the appendix. I needn't have worried because she couldn't get down more than a third of a coconut water bar. We collapsed into bed and within forty minutes she was at my bedside in excruciating pain again. I took her to the guest bed so I could monitor her. I was so tired and her fever seemed gone, leaving me confused. But I second-guessed my decision to leave the hospital over and over. Mike came in and I went back to bed. We both had fitful sleeps.

Until 7am when Kyrie came into my room, I was nearly certain we were going back to the hospital for an appendectomy.  I had read all the symptoms over and over and the factor that troubled me was that her pain had never moved to the right. It was dead-center. But everything else fit. And then she went to the bathroom. And I remembered the intestinal blockage I had researched originally. And the ER had never considered. She felt better. She looked better.

I called her pediatrician's office and the nurse was unconvinced it was appendicitis as well. She scheduled a visit for 11am. I found Kyrie on the toilet again. And then 10 minutes later, there she was again.

By the time she saw the doctor I had renewed hope. The number of prayers we had prayed for wisdom, guidance, and yes, healing were huge. The doctor confirmed intestinal blockage with a few more important questions and the statement that "appendicitis does not just come and go." We have seen steady progress throughout the day and her strength has come back.

In this process, I could not fail to see her dad in her. She is tough. She does things for herself. She is a stalwart and undramatic patient. She wept during the blood-draw. She didn't scream or cry out or try to stop it. She thanked me continually during the process. At least four different times, she thanked me for being her mom, for being with her.

It made me explode with gratitude. At times, I was so tested. I didn't catch on as quickly as I should have. I was so weary. And yet, she thanked me.

I have always told her she is a tough girl, a strong girl, made for a special purpose. I reminded her again last night in the ER that she was so very strong.

And she is generous. When she had her xrays, the tech gave her two stickers: "Dora" and "Angry Birds." Evie will like Dora and Ben will like Angry Birds. And she brought home these things for them.

Tonight life has settled back into normal. We are tired but feeling well. But I know my daughter a little better, I know myself a little better. We are a little stronger for walking this road, and a lot more empathetic. And grateful. Ever so grateful.