[[[-IF5-P14.TXT-]]]
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Island Fever 5: Family
Written by: JeremyDCP@hotmail.com
M/F, F/F and a whole lot more
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Chapter 14: "Comfort"
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-*- Thursday, March 24, 2016 -*-
-*- Oslo, Norway -*-
...Ariel was BACK in the hospital with another illness.
After everything that happened to Kristanna over the past
11 days - from having to go through an induced birth only to
then watch our premature, infant daughter be ripped away from
us and spend the first 72 hours of her life in the neonatal
intensive care unit (NICU) of the hospital, and the horrible,
constant fear of knowing Ariel had been diagnosed with a
breathing abnormality that could strike at any given moment,
my wife had made amazing strides this week in getting back to
her normal, everyday self. Kristanna's quick wit and humor,
her vivacious personality, had been making a comeback of sorts
thanks in large part to the network of love and support our
family provided. We were adjusting to life as the parents of
a premature infant, knowing any little problem could turn into
something major. It had been a struggle for her, for us, yet
Kristanna was slowly but surely overcoming it.
But with Ariel having been rushed to the emergency room
earlier today, all of that progress had been lost. Kristanna
was in shambles; she was, quite simply, a train wreck.
It all started this morning when, after her 11:00am
feeding, Ariel got sick and vomited. She seemed to become
really animated and fussy afterward, much more so than normal.
Kristanna held and soothed our daughter, trying to get her to
settle down and relax, but things soon became downright scary
when Ariel began making audible wheezing sounds with nearly
every breath. Considering how she had already been diagnosed
with _periodic breathing_ - an ailment that included pauses in
breathing for up to 10 seconds at a time - Kristanna panicked.
She cried out for Scarlett - a registered nurse and the
self-appointed doctor for our family - to come rushing in and
take a look at Ariel. When she did, Scarlett offered a quick
visual evaluation and noticed that Ariel's little fingernails
had a shade of blue across them. Scarlett, suddenly appearing
grim and distraught, told us to dial 113 (the equivalent of
911 in the United States). Ariel needed prompt medical care;
she had to go via ambulance to _Oslo Universitetssykehus HF_
(Oslo University Hospital).
After being admitted and given an initial screening in the
emergency room, Ariel was then transferred to the adjacent
children's wing of the massive medical facility. With a
colorful, nature-inspired backdrop, the fourth level of the
center was dubbed _den Blå Fugl gulv_ (the Blue Bird floor)
and featured a kidney center, sleep study center and the
pediatric intensive care unit (PICU), with some 82 critical
care beds and rooms for children of all ages. Colors were
bright and popped everywhere, no doubt in order to stimulate
the senses of the young patients found here.
Following three hours of testing, including a chest X-ray,
blood gas treatment and samples of mucus and nasal discharge,
the doctor informed Kristanna and I that Ariel was suffering
from _bronchiolitis_. An acute inflammatory infection of the
lower respiratory tract, bronchiolitis occurs when a virus
overtakes the bronchioles, which are the smallest airways
branching off from the main breathing ducts within the lungs.
The physician explained to us in detail that when bronchioles
become swollen and inflamed, and clogged with mucus (hence
the wheezing sounds), it can become difficult for air to flow
freely into and out of the lungs.
But Ariel, who definitely did not deserve any of this, was
also diagnosed with _acrocyanosis_. Acrocyanosis refers to the
bluish discoloration of the hands, feet and/or nail-beds. What
it meant, we were told, was that oxygen was flowing slowly
through the peripheral capillary beds within the blood vessels
to her hands (thus the reason her fingernails were blue).
Sufficient blood was still passing through so the tissue in
her hands would not starve for oxygen and/or die. Still, that
part of her body - her hands - was not getting the proper
amount of bloodflow, or enough oxygen.
The doctor was hoping that Ariel's acrocyanosis condition
was tied to her bronchiolitis, and theorized that it was. On
its own, he told us, there was no definitive treatment or
cure for acrocyanosis. It was something that simply needed
to be managed. But he was hopeful that by treating her for
bronchiolitis, the acrocyanosis would go away as well.
However, since bronchiolitis was a viral infection,
antibiotics were useless against it. Still, the physician
gave our daughter corticosteroids which helped clear the lungs
of mucus, reduce inflammation and open the affected airways.
Ariel was also connected to a humidified oxygen unit and had
an I-V in her arm to help combat dehydration.
All we could do now was wait. The doctor informed us that
Ariel would not be returning home today. She had to stay
overnight in the PICU for treatment and observation - at
least. Expect a three or four day stay, he told us, but he
and the rest of the staff would do their absolute best to
ensure that Ariel was back home with us as soon as possible.
Kristanna was not the only one about to lose it.
* * *
What added to my problems, as well as Kristanna's, was
that there was suddenly a lot of infighting between our group
of wives over who exactly should be here at the hospital with
us, giving us support. The PICU at this particular hospital
allowed us to create a list of up to four visitors, but no
more. Only these four people were permitted to be in the room
with Ariel at any given time. Two of them were a given, of
course - Kristanna and yours truly. We chose Kaden for the
third simply because he was Ariel's big brother. He was not
a half-brother or half-sister, such as Piper or the other
children. The fourth? An all-out war seemed to be going on
back home over who it should be.
Apparently, Pamela and Lindsay were at the forefront of
it. Lindsay, who was none too pleased when Pamela and Devon
stayed with Kristanna and I throughout the whole process of
her labor induction and subsequent birth of Ariel nearly two
weeks ago, was rather adamant about being the fourth person
on the list. She wanted to come and visit us, and was not
afraid to let the others know it, too. But Pamela demanded
that it be her, citing how close she had become in recent
times with Kristanna, and her strong relationship with me.
Devon insisted on throwing her hat into the mix, too.
Devon did not have a baby of her own, like Pamela and
Lindsay did, and it would take the least amount of effort
for her to visit us. Or so she said. But Amy put up an
argument, too. So did Trish. They were fighting and
arguing over it like I had never seen before. Yes, even
Trish and Lindsay were going through a spat at the moment.
There was bickering and screeching galore.
I about flipped my lid when their only solution was that
_I_ be the one to pick which wife should be allowed to come
here and visit us. Umm. Yes, I will pick a wife, but
alienate (and greatly hurt) the rest of them in the process.
No. So not going to do that.
At 5:15pm on Thursday evening, Kristanna actually excused
herself for a few moments, wanting to get a quick snack and a
glass of iced tea from the hospital cafeteria. I offered to
go and get it for her, of course, but she insisted on going
herself - the walk, the little bit of exercise after such a
trying day, would be beneficial for her, she said. So, I
stayed behind in the PICU room with precious, little Ariel
sleeping away rather peacefully in the incubator bed, several
wires and tubes attached to her body.
Why did my daughter look like a lab experiment?...
There was a very sudden and loud commotion down the hall.
When I got up to investigate by sticking my head out the
door, I saw 20 or 30 doctors and nurses making a mad scramble
for the room just four doors away. Someone screamed that the
monitors for an innocent, helpless toddler had gone all zeroes.
A moment or two later, I heard the cry of a mother who had
just been told that she had lost her only child, and there
was nothing the hospital staff could do to bring her back. A
19-month-old girl - the same age as Kaden - had just died.
Several other concerned parents and visitors, just like me,
were standing at the doorway of nearly every room. A pair of
nurses quickly started at each end, going to the onlookers and
quietly asking us individually that we head back into our
rooms and respect the privacy of the suddenly grieving family.
When the nurse on my end got to me, I frowned and nodded my
head, then turned and closed the door behind me.
Although the leather sofa was no more than ten feet away,
my legs started to give out beneath me. I could still hear
the poor mother crying through the walls. It took every last
ounce of strength I had just to reach the sofa and fall into
it. Immediately, emotion began pouring out of me.
Not just the past two weeks, but the past two-plus years;
the uncertainty of each pregnancy, Kristanna being whisked to
the emergency room in April 2014 while pregnant with Kaden and
the fear that she may suffer a miscarriage. Pamela giving
birth to Piper in November 2014 then doing an about-face and
experiencing Postpartum Depression in what should have been
the happiest few weeks of her life. Amy, in May 2015, being
taken to the hospital with a miscarriage scare of her own
after the sudden and tragic death of Trish's father. Jackson,
my son with Trish, being born with torticollis. Ariel, her
birth induced, brought into the world by medicine - not by
nature - four weeks before she was due. All that time in
the hospital. Now, right back there again. Was this going
to be a common place for us, for her, in the years ahead?
And of course, that poor mother down the hall - and her
husband - having just lost their 19-month-old daughter. I
did not even know their names or what the initial diagnosis
and/or problem was, but I felt miserable inside because of it.
That, combined with everything else, had me crying like there
was no tomorrow. I felt sick, my body racked with pain.
Kristanna found me moments later a mess and immediately
assumed that something happened to our own daughter, Ariel.
I explained what occurred just a few doors down when she was
off snacking in the cafeteria. Kristanna and I sat there on
the sofa, Ariel still sleeping away beside us, and simply
sobbed and prayed for that grieving mother and her family.
With the door open again, nurses and doctors walked by our
room, but did not intervene. They probably saw this a lot
more often than we thought. They understood.
My cell phone buzzed. It was a text from Lindsay. "plz
Jeremy choose me, its my turn and i deserve to be with you
and K for a change." Kristanna, knowing the power struggle
that was going on back home and that I had been thrown into
the middle of it by being asked to choose which wife should be
allowed to visit us, saw the text and then snatched the device
from me. It was the latest in a long line of texts I had
received from not only Lindsay, but most of the others as
well. Kristanna dialed Lindsay's number and stormed off to
the side. I will not go into the exacting details of the
discussion, but let me just say it began like this.
"Just who in the FUCK do you think you and Pamela are,
Lindsay, acting like a bunch of spoiled, selfish brats, when
Jeremy and I are here in the hospital with Ariel being so
sick? You want to trade places? DO YOU? Think how you
would feel if it was Kaylee here instead with a hundred wires
sticking in her! HOW WOULD YOU FEEL? Would you appreciate
others at home arguing and bickering like SELFISH BITCHES?"
Over the next few moments, I believe Kristanna got her
point across and was able to show Lindsay the error of her
ways. "I don't want ANY of you to come and visit us if all
you're going to do is fight and argue about it, and try to
get Jeremy involved, too. That's not what our family is
about, what it stands for. Stop being so selfish!" By this
time, Lindsay had Kristanna on speakerphone, and everyone
was listening. Even Alison. "It's the PICU's rule - not
ours - only four visitors can be defined for a single patient.
Whether Ariel is here for a day or whether Ariel is here for
a month, she can only have four visitors. THAT'S IT. Stop
being greedy and respect the fact that Jeremy and I have a
lot going on at the moment, and we DON'T NEED your fighting.
We NEED all of you to help SUPPORT us."
"Now if you can be civil about it, pick someone," Kristanna
told them in closing. "But only if you can be civil and act
like adults. I want to see my son. I want Kaden here with
us. Someone please bring my boy to me so he can see his baby
sister, and we can see him. Text Jeremy back with whomever
is coming so we can let the hospital know."
"I think you should go," I heard Lindsay say.
"No, you should go," Pamela retorted.
"What about Amy?" Trish suggested.
Kristanna ended the telephone call and breathed a sigh of
relief. "Now THAT sounds like the ladies we're in love with.
All working together to solve the issue, putting others first.
Let's see who they decide gets to come and visit us, Jeremy."
Although Kristanna attended a support group for parents of
premature babies for the first time just last evening, I had
refused to go. I did not need it, I told her. I had it all
under control. So I thought. Until today, when my legs gave
out from under me upon hearing that unknown mother's cry from
down the hall when told that her daughter had passed away.
What if that had been us? What if that had been Ariel?
As we went for a walk throughout the hospital's corridors
later that evening, Kristanna pointed toward a sign posted
next to the elevator door. On it was a date and time for a
dads-only support group for very ill and at-risk children.
Tomorrow morning, 10:00am. Before I could protest, Kristanna
looked at me said, "You're going. They might have ideas to
make Ariel feel more comfortable."
On Friday, I reluctantly went to the conference hall where
the dad's group was being held at. A young woman introduced
herself as Agnieszka and asked if I was there for the support
group. In my most unwilling tone, I told her I was not sure.
In her bubbly and optimistic manner, Agnieszka told me I could
sit out all here morning, or I could go in and listen, and
enjoy some of the free snacks that the cafeteria provided.
During that meeting, I learned quite a lot. Then a guest
speaker arrived. It was not his large physical stature that
occupied the room, but his presence. He introduced himself
as Akam to everyone in the room. And he asked us, the four
dads in attendance, to share our stories. I was the last to
take the spotlight. I spoke briefly of Ariel's time in the
NICU and the fact that, less than a week after being released,
she was right back in the hospital with a new illness. I
mentioned Kristanna, my beloved wife, and the massive struggle
she had endured. I told the group how much Kristanna meant to
me, and that it was difficult to watch her go through this
very rough stretch. Akam thanked me, then told his own story.
Akam had been the father of premature twins, a boy and a
girl. They rode the proverbial roller coaster of emotions
throughout the ups and downs of life in the NICU. Just a
few days before the twins were to come home, with both of
them thriving, the hospital called and insisted that Akam
and his wife get there immediately because they were unsure
how much longer they could keep the boy alive.
Once they arrived, the doctors explained that their son
had taken a very drastic, unexpected turn for the worse, and
there was nothing they could do to save him. So that night,
with their daughter healthy and set to go home soon, Akam and
his wife held their infant son in their arms until he gently
passed away. The large man stood before us in the conference
hall and cried his eyes out as if it had just happened today.
Again, what if that had been Ariel? Kaden? Piper? Or any
of my other precious, darling children?...
But then Akam said something to us that I will never, ever
forget. "When your sons or daughters get through this very
difficult stage and are healthy, living their lives and full
of vibrant energy, and you are in a good spot yourself, please
keep the dads' group alive. Whether it is by coming back to
the hospital to speak or by sharing your story online, please
help another dad cope with his own emotions."
Perhaps that is why I decided to devote this chapter to
Ariel and her unexpected hospital visit. As I passed through
the waiting room en route to returning to Kristanna and Ariel
after the meeting, I saw two dads with that scared, worried
look in their eyes - the one only a dad of a very sick child
can truly understand. I knew their pain, their frustration.
This chapter is for them, and all fathers like them.
You may never feel comfortable asking. You may never think
anyone understands. But know that it is okay to feel. It is
okay to hurt and it is okay, in your own, specific way, and in
your own time, to allow the emotions to come pouring out.
You are not alone. You are never alone. And I hope that
if you are reading this, you find comfort with what I say.
* * *
When I made my way back to the hospital room, Ariel was
awake and alert, with Kristanna and Kaden at her bedside.
Kristanna, bouncing a quiet and sullen Kaden on her knee (he
was concerned for his sister), was singing a nursery rhyme to
Ariel. I stood idly by and listened to the sweet melody.
"Baa, baa, black sheep. Have you any wool? Yes sir, yes
sir. Three bags full! One for the master. And one for the
dame. And one for the little boy. Who lives down the lane!"
Kristanna definitely loved to sing, and had a good voice to
boot. Kaden had always enjoyed his mother's singing.
"Hi Jeremy," Kristanna greeted me. "How did your meeting
go? Learn anything at the support group?"
"Well... I'm definitely glad I went to the meeting," I told
her, reaching down and swooping Kaden into my arms. I held our
son close, adding, "And I learned not to take anything in our
lives for granted. Everything we have needs to be cherished
on a daily basis." I kissed the side of Kaden's head and
glanced down at Ariel. "Any news from the doctor?"
"He says Ariel is doing much better," Kristanna sighed.
"The wheezing is gone. Her lungs are clearing up. The nurse
showed me how to clear Ariel's nose with a suction bulb so it
causes her no discomfort at all. It pulls any stuffing, any
sickness, out of her sinuses. And she also showed me how to
safely administer saline nose drops. Those are things we will
need to do when Ariel is released and goes home with us. The
nurse said that she will be back later to show you, too."
"Don't be sad," I said to Kaden in a calm, cool voice, as I
watched him look down at his sister with a heavy frown. Kaden
seemed really uncomfortable and fidgety right now. "Ariel is
going to be fine, Kaden. The hospital and the doctors, the
nurses, are going to fix her up, and she will be all well."
"He doesn't like seeing all those wires in her," Kristanna
pouted. "Or the breathing tube. It's upsetting to him."
"You're a good big brother," I told Kaden with a smile.
"You love your baby sister, don't you?" The 19-month-old
nodded his head and tossed his arms around my neck, burying
his face upon my shoulder. He began crying immediately.
"Oh, Kaden!" Kristanna frowned. "Ariel is going to be all
right! She is coming home with us in a day or two..."
"Why don't you and I go to the romper room, Kaden, where
all those toys are?" Kristanna's mother, Rande, suggested.
"Remember all those fun toys?" Ultimately, our collection of
wives back home decided that the fourth and final person on
the visitor's list should not be one of them, but rather
Kristanna's mother, Rande. I actually applaud them for making
such an excellent choice. Rande brought Kaden to the hospital
to visit Ariel and us last night, and again this morning.
"Yeah, let's go and play with those toys," Rande nodded,
taking Kaden from my arms. "Let's give Mommy and Daddy a
little time by themselves to spend with Ariel. Okay?"
"I love you, wild man!" Kristanna chirped at him, smiling.
As Rande took Kaden out of the room, he wiped his tears away
and waved a temporary goodbye to us.
"Have fun with Grandma," I called out, waving as well.
"Mom got really angry at me earlier," Kristanna said once
we were alone in the room with Ariel.
"Oh? What happened?"
"She started talking about God and His magical healing
powers, about His ability to cure all that is wrong. But I
told Mom that it seemed with everything that has gone on -
from the _Strep B_ diagnosis and my water breaking early,
Ariel having to be born a month premature because of it, her
time in the NICU, her breathing issue and now the fact she
is right back in the hospital again..." Kristanna sighed
and shook her head in remorse, fighting back the tears. "I
told Mom that it seems God is trying to... take Ariel away...
from me, from us. God is trying to steal my sunshine. And
Mom got really upset I would say such a thing."
"You can't feel that way," I responded, extending both
arms and embracing my wife gently.
"But what if this is our life from now on?" Kristanna
quaked. "What if..." Now, it was Kristanna's turn to start
crying. "What if... wh-what if Ariel is in and out of th-the
hospital for the n-n-next several y-y-years with... sickness
after... sickness?" Kristanna shook her head. "You know all
the research you and I have done on premature babies, Jeremy.
Some of those stories we read on the Internet from parents
were pure, total horror. Hospital stay after hospital stay,
surgeries, learning and growing deficiencies, lifetime
disabilities and illnesses... Ariel does not deserve this!"
Kristanna became really emotional, ending, "I FEEL AS IF I'VE
FAILED AT BEING A PROPER MOTHER FOR ARIEL!"
"Hey, settle down!" I exclaimed at Kristanna, now holding
her as tightly and as warmly as I could. "Ariel is right
here with us; please don't get upset and possibly upset her,
too." I then rocked Kristanna in my arms, telling her, "You
haven't failed at anything. You're an awesome mother for
Kaden and you're an awesome mother for Ariel. That little
girl loves you. You are her everything, her protector; she
knows you more than anyone or anything. It's not your fault
Ariel was born premature. It's not anyone's fault, really.
You are the best mother Ariel could possibly have right now.
You need to stay strong, Krissy, and get through this. I
trust this all will pass. I have faith Ariel is going to have
a normal, healthy childhood, and grow up perfectly fine."
Still upset, Kristanna balled up a pair of fists and hit
my shoulders with them. "AND WHAT IF SHE'S NOT FINE? You
cannot sit there and guarantee me that Ariel will be fine!"
"Then you and I will deal with it together," I told her.
"And we will have the full backing, the support, of our
family, plus your mom and dad, your sister, my dad. But it
won't come to that. Ariel will be fine."
There was a long stretch where Kristanna did nothing but
continue to cry while I held her and did my best to keep my
own emotions in check. But soon, I began to crack. I admit,
I had my doubts too. What if Kristanna was right and I was
wrong? What if Ariel's future consisted of nothing but...
"I HATE THIS PLACE!" Kristanna suddenly erupted into my
chest, her face plastered there, her voice muffled. "I HATE
THE HOSPITAL! Nothing but pure MISERY and APATHY here!"
Tears began streaking down my own face as I feared Kristanna,
my wife, was losing control of herself. She needed more help
right now than I could provide her. "I hate the sounds!
Beeps, whistles, whooshes, ventilator noises! I even hate the
sound of the door down the hall, the click of the lock every
time someone comes or goes! I hate the ding of the elevator!
And this place smells like disinfectant and coffee. I HATE
EVERYTHING ABOUT THIS PLACE! I JUST WANT TO TAKE ARIEL HOME
WITH US, AND FOR EVERYTHING TO BE OKAY!"
Indeed, Kristanna did lose control. I glanced down at
Ariel, who somehow had fallen back asleep. That was good,
at least. She did not need to witness this. But I had to
get Kristanna out of here, even if just for a little while.
It was time to call in the cavalry. While they may not
have been allowed to visit Ariel in her room, there was
nothing preventing our collection of wives (as well as Alison
and all of the children) from having a family lunch with us
in the hospital cafeteria. One telephone call and the whole
gang could be here in 30 minutes or less, I trusted. It
would do both Kristanna and I a world of good right now to
see the likes of Pamela and Lindsay, as well as the others.
Kristanna put up a protest, but I slung one arm around her
and literally had to drag her out of the hospital room.
Though still crying uncontrollably, Kristanna began walking
with me toward the exit of the pediatric intensive care unit.
She too, realized that it was best to step away for awhile.
Along the way, a nurse passed us and gave me a sympathetic
nod. Again, she knew. That nurse probably saw parents like
Kristanna crying hysterically - overcome with grief, fear,
sheer anxiety - on a daily basis. What could possibly be
worse than having your child in a hospital bed?
I thought about that nurse for a moment, as well as the
primary physician who had been overseeing Ariel's treatment
since she was admitted yesterday. We knew him as Dr. Zafar.
There had been a couple of different nurses assigned to
Ariel in the PICU. First it was Monica and then Valeska,
and since 7:00am this morning, it had been Ann Marie.
These amazing people, and others like them, dedicate their
lives to helping and saving others in need. For however
broken various medical systems seem to be across the globe,
doctors and nurses are perpetually the bright spot, the
shining beacon of light. They spend a tremendous amount of
their time within the walls of the hospital because of a
calling; the calling to change lives and enhance futures.
When I was a young child, I was under the impression that
superheroes come with bulging muscles and flashy red capes.
But as an adult, I have realized that they oftentimes come
in surgical caps and scrubs.
Thank you for your enormous dedication. Thank you for
all those years you sacrificed learning and then perfecting
your craft. Thank you for taking care of my daughter. And
thank you for making your life about making hers better.
<<<- End of Chapter 14 ->>>
==---- -- -- -- - --- -- -- - - --- -- -- --- - -- - - - - --- -- ----==
"Island Fever 5: Family"
(c) 2016 JeremyDCP
- JeremyDCP@hotmail.com
Feedback is always appreciated!