I've never been so scared in my life.

Sunday.
December 5.
2010.
2:30 am.

That's when it all started. That's when I woke up from a deep sleep (much needed deep sleep) to go get my oldest daughter, Ireland, out of her crib to sleep in the bed with mommy and daddy because she was upset and restless. Needless to say, we didn't get any sleep that night. She fell asleep off and on, but I didn't think anything of her restlessness.

11:30 am.
We woke up for good after an unsteady night of sleep. She was still pretty antsy and whiny. I felt her head and she felt really warm, but I figured it was from sleeping under a ton of covers in a warm house. Still, just in case it was from teething and to make her feel better I gave her a bath and put her in some cozy pajamas and socks. We went downstairs and started our routine of Criminal Minds on TV with Daddy and Kealan.

She wasn't herself. Usually she's on and off of the couch, bringing toys from the playroom to the living room, talking your ear off, laughing, smiling, playing with the dog, singing, and getting into everything. Today, she just sat in between me and Jonathan. She would lay her head on me for a little bit and then lean over and do the same to him. She wanted to cuddle like you wouldn't believe. Jonathan held her and she fell asleep on him. She hasn't done that since she was six months old. She fell asleep SO hard that he had a huge puddle of drool on his t-shirt.

Her weird behavior made me check her head again for a fever. She was burning up. I got the forehead thermometer and it read 100.8. I told my mama if she didn't get better by the end of the day I would take her to the doctor tomorrow. After about ten minutes, Jonathan felt her head and looked at me and said "She *is* really warm," as if he thought she was warmer than the thermometer said.

So, we packed everyone up, threw something on us other than pajamas and got in the car to take her to the ER.

1:30pm.
We get to the ER since it's a Sunday and her doctor's office which is located in the hospital isn't open. We tell them what's wrong and we take a seat in the waiting room. Jonathan downloaded some Yo Gabba Gabba application on his phone to see if that would make Ireland feel better. She would smile here and there but for most of the time she was in my lap with her head on my chest crying.

The nurses called us to the back. They weighed her.
23lbs.
They then proceeded to take her temperature. I wasn't in for what they said.
"104."
They gave her tylenol and motrin and we left the room, and returned to the waiting room. On the way there, I asked my husband "WHAT did they say her temperature was?"
"One hundred and four..." he said.
I had thought I heard wrong when they said that. I didn't expect the thermometer we had to be off at all; especially not THAT much.

We waited for about twenty more minutes before they called us back to a "room"...which was really a bed surrounded by curtains.

They tell me they're going to take chest x-rays of her, catheterize her, and draw blood, possibly putting her on an IV. I didn't know what was going on so I agreed. They then decided to give her a check up. When the doctor went to clean out her ears, she had Jonathan hold Ireland close to him and keep her calm while she did this.

Ireland was so upset. She was screaming like I had never heard her scream. I couldn't blame her. She didn't feel good and was miserably tired and this strange woman was messing with her. The doctor then told Jonathan to lay Ireland on her side and hold her down.

Jonathan told me to get up and help him hold her down because he knew she would be calm with me as she had been all day. This is when the doctor pretty much told me to back off and sit down and she got a nurse to hold my daughter down. Jonathan tried to tell them, very nicely, that she wouldn't like that and he and Ireland both would be more comfortable if I could just hold her. I agreed too, it wasn't the nurses job to hold her down. I could have done that just as good if not better than she could have.

Ireland flipped out. So did Jonathan.

The doctor comes in and tells Jonathan to calm down and he can't have him getting angry with his staff.

Well, those few minutes the ladies told us they would take took them an hour and a half. The two patients beside us got checked on like three times a piece before they came back to see my daughter. The times they weren't checking on the patients they were on the other side of the curtain whispering like we couldn't hear them. They were extremely rude.

An hour and a half later, they come back in to finish her check up. They let her dad take her back for a chest Xray and then they come back shortly after.

During this time the nurse is doing an IV on Ireland. It takes them like 7 times before they even get one in her - and it didn't even work. She asks me why am I so nice and my husband so grumpy. You tell me, lady.

So after about ten failed attempts for an IV to draw her blood some lady comes in and says "We're going to take her to the back so we can draw her blood. The light is better so they usually don't miss the vein."

UMMMMMM....HELLO!!???? WHY did you do it here then? My poor little girl is only 16 months old. She doesn't understand "oops, we messed up" she only understands "we're going to stick you a million times because you're a baby and pain doesn't bother you". Really. That totally ticked me off.

So, they take her back there and they're drawing her blood.
That's what I'm under the impression of.
Then they come back and say that they catheterized her too while she was back there.
So, you're telling me someone stripped her down, and was doing stuff around places they shouldn't have been doing stuff without me knowing? Now, I know they had to do it, but the fact that they didn't let me KNOW before they did it, really threw me off. I thought they would tell me and let me be there. It just made me uncomfortable.

They get the IV in her and decide to start running fluids to her. We had to hold her arm straight for it to pump liquid in her. She hated it. Again, she felt horrible and keeping her arm straight just wasn't an option. She wanted to sleep. She was sick and wanted to sleep. They said if we took her off of the IV she would have to drink a lot of liquids. Check.
That's easier.
She'll drink.
She DID drink, a LOT after that.

We took her off of the IV and again, the nurses looked at us like we were the most pathetic people in the world because we were concerned about her comfort, and if it's not 100% necessary; I'm not going to put her through something if she's sick and uncomfortable and there is an alternate option that works.


...the doctor comes in...and honestly he's not even a doctor, he's an intern. Which I get it, he's a DOCTOR, but he hasn't gotten through the program yet and he was the biggest jerk I've met. Talk about bedside manner...he had none.

He comes in and sits down and says:
"Your daughter has a very low white blood cell count. It's so dangerously low that we are going to give her antibiotics and we're going to admit her to the hospital. She can be here from one day to up to a week. If you take her home there is a chance of death."

After that, don't ask me what the man said. I don't know what he said. I don't care what he said. My ears felt like someone shoved cotton in them. My head felt like it wasn't even attached to my body. My throat burned like someone had poured a gallon of hot sauce down my throat. My lungs felt so small but so full of air; and my heart was about to burst out of my chest.

The doctor was talking and I didn't hear a thing.

That's when the first tear rolled down my cheek. I pressed my lips together so hard to keep from losing my mind. The doctor said, "Is this the first time you've had a child this sick?"
I nodded.
"Well, I understand then." He said.
No.
No sir, you don't understand.
You don't understand how scared you just made me.
He left for a little bit, and during that time I kept taking deep breaths to keep from crying. I didn't want to break down. Not here, not now. Not over something that probably wasn't going to happen.

I completely and utterly lost it; bawling my eyes out, short of breath, shaking. I was scared out of my mind that I was going to lose my little girl...the little girl that changed my life. She was the thing that got me through a deployment. She's always been there with me; we've never really been apart. The little girl that always makes my day with her smiles and laughs and stories told in jibberish that I can't understand. I thought I was going to lose her.

I asked my husband if he could talk to the doctor for me so I could call my mama. He told me yes and I left the room in such a hurry. I went to the hallway dialing my mama's number. I had just called her not long before to tell her that everything was okay; because that's what they made me believe. She answered the phone and all I remember saying is: "Can you come up here? Please? They're going to keep her. The doctor said there's a chance of death. I can't breathe. I can't breathe." She was calming me down telling me to take deep breaths; and every breath I wanted to cry. I kept losing my mind. All I remember was trying to breathe like she was telling me to, but I couldn't and I kept saying I couldn't breathe. My daddy asked her if I needed them up here, and without hesitation I said yes, that I couldn't breathe and I didn't know what to do. She said she'd see what she could do and within twenty minutes my mama and daddy were on their way up here.

I went back in and the doctor was explaining everything. I asked him if with this medicine, would she be okay? And he said he can't promise anything. He asked me if she bruised or bled easily; making me think my child had leukemia. Then he kept pressing the fact that this was serious and life threatening and that she might not be okay because the medicine may not work.

They hooked Ireland back up to an IV for antibiotics and this time, it worked. I think it's mostly because of the medicine making her feel better. She just laid on her side on the bed and sniffled herself to sleep. I laid next to her and Jonathan went home with Kealan to get some stuff for us to stay then night; mostly just our chargers and everything else was for our babies. He even bought her a princess sleeper as a present.

While he was gone, the doctor came in and decided to ask me questions about our home life.

By the time he got back, they had told us she would have an appointment the next day to re-check her white blood cell count to make sure she's getting better.

So, that day was done.
But my worries weren't.

December 6, 2010
Monday.

We go to see her doctor. I've never met him; and I'm keeping my fingers crossed he's good. He comes in the room; a BIG Fred Flintstone looking guy with a big voice and a personality and a half talking 90 miles an hour. He introduces himself as Dr. Jack Wilcox and shakes our hand.

"So, what did the ER tell you guys was wrong with her?"
This is when me and Jonathan exchange glances.
"They didn't tell us anything." He said.
"Really? Neutropenia is all I have here, which is low white blood cells but they didn't give her a diagnosis?"
Nope. Suuuurrrre didn't.
He walks out and checks something.
He walks back in about ten minutes later.
"I don't have any of her tests. I don't have anything. Did they give you discharge papers?"
Take a guess.
Suuuurrrrre didn't.
"Okay. Well, I want you guys to come in next Tuesday at 7:45am. Do NOT miss this appointment; it's very important. We're going to re-do her labs. Here's my pager number. Just call them and tell them that I'm your man and you need to talk to me if there's a problem between now and Tuesday. Do NOT go to the ER with this child."

Hm. Okay then.
Great doctor.
Bad response.
So I wait a week and a day to find out what is wrong with my daughter. I wait and I look up every possible cause for neutropenia. The worst case scenarios are stuck in my head because if you're a mom; you worry. People will tell you don't worry; but you can't help it. You worry by nature. Your heart is walking around outside of your body - you're going to worry about it. (In my case, both of them.)

I would put her to sleep every night just wanting to cry because I didn't know if she was seriously ill or not. Everytime I thought of Tuesday I felt so sick. It just got worse the closer it got to Tuesday. I would zone out and just worry in my head.

We got up bright and early on her appointment day. They didn't waste any time taking her blood and testing it. We waited and ate breakfast in the doctor's office playroom. They called us back again and I was so nervous.

The doctor comes in and gives us a long speech.
"Her white blood cell count is absolutely normal. If I were the doctors in the ER I wouldn't have even run the tests. I probably would have thought about the catheter just because of UTI, but with a fever of only a day I would NOT have done all of those tests. It's just a viral illness with viral suppression. It just causes a fever and her to feel really bad. These ER doctors just hammer these kids with medicine when they are sick. If she gets sick like this again, which it will happen because it will probably happen once every six weeks during the winter, I would just give her Motrin and Tylenol unless she's being specific about what's hurting her. I wouldn't bother with the ER. I see this all the time. I wasn't worried when you brought her to me the first time. There's no reason for you to worry, she's okay."

That's all I needed to hear.
Not only did he think the ER was bogus, the nurse even said they were insane and they never listen and make things out to be more serious than they really are.
And I wish I could file a complaint with them for doing that and making me think I was going to lose my little girl. It was a huge mess, and I can honestly say that if I EVER need to go to the ER again while I'm up here, I'll go to the hospital in TOWN before I'll ever think of going to the Naval Hospital again. They are disrespectful and rude; they don't care about their patients worth a flip; and their bedside manner sucks more than a mosquito in Georgia in the summer.

But, I'm just happy she's okay and I can breathe and relax.
The worst thing in the world for a mother or father is seeing their child in pain and knowing there's nothing you can do about it...or knowing there could be something you could do, but you don't know what that is.

I've never been so scared in my life...and I hope I never have to feel that way again.