Chapter 1- On our maiden voyage
by Stacey Hanlon-Godsoe on Tuesday, September 27, 2011 at 7:12am
When you say asthma, diabetes, or epilepsy, people have a mental list in their head and an understanding (even if it's not in depth) of the severity, causes, side effects that surround these medical terms. Bring your child into Emergency anywhere and scream asthma attack....everyone jumps to action and before you can blink, your child is hooked up and on the road to recovery. Yell out diabetes in a mall and strangers know that every minute counts. When I bring Scarlett in, I bring a book because every issue that she has needs to be said as no one label has been produced yet. Thankfully, I have an amazing medical staff of nurses who fight for Scarlett here in Mackenzie and in Prince George. We all know of the difficulties faced with our revolving doctors but our staff has gone the extra mile in educating themselves about her conditions to keep Scarlett alive. That commitment has lead to a higher quality of care that I am thankful of everyday. My PGRH nurses have become a family to me and my daughter as they have shown me so much respect and value my judgement. The trust they have shown me makes every stay amazing.
Scarlett has changed our lives drastically. We have been challenged physically, emotionally, and socially. We've had to teach our young children about caring for Scarlett in ways that we never thought we would. We've had to educate friends and family about the fragility of life and the joy that Scarlett brings to us. Our priorities have shifted greatly and everyday, even with it's frustrations and normal duties, has become a gift. Even greater still, I have met so many wonderful people that I draw strength from. These connections would never had been made if it weren't for Scarlett.
She has endured lumbar punctures, MRI, double digit EGGs, ECG, too many blood tests to count, viral infections, self starvation which resulted in a NG tube and then eventually PEG tube feedings, severe life-threatening asthma/breathing issues, multiple medication changes to subdue her aggressive epilepsy which resulted in many horrible side effects, severe physical delays that have basically left her as a 21lbs + infant, vision issues, hip dysplasia, curvature of her legs/feet, 98 days out of the year hospitalized (not including appointments) and so much more. We've seen her on the brink of death a few times over the last year. I've shoved tubes through her nose to her stomach, held her down for countless blood tests, poured cold water on her to keep her awake until she couldn't help but fall asleep for EEGs, saw her struggle for breath when everyone around her is fighting for her to live, watched so many seizures that it was bizarre when she wasn't having one, she's been drugged to the point where she wasn't living life anymore. And through it all she's been a fighter, a teacher, forgiving and a joy. We heard her laugh for the first time just shy of her first birthday. When she cries, she has the soft cries of an angel. When she smiles, she melts your heart and captures your soul. She's much too young to be broken and we all strive to fix what we can and hope that it's enough, knowing that it's never going to be enough.
I never really knew how much one person can change a community until I experienced it myself. To borrow a quote from my friend, "I thought I would have to teach my child about the world. Now I have to teach the world about my child." So true! But there are so many people how has helped us along the way. Everything from letting me vent, watching the boys, picking up items, and just taking the time to connect with us.
I get asked a lot, "how do you do it?" or " you just get through it because you have to". No. We don't have to do anything. We could just drop her off, saying she is too much work or she's too hard to deal with or that we don't know how to care for her. We do it because we love her. We do it because she's worth every minute we have with her. We don't simply endure living with her, we thrive because of her. So everyday, we wake, shake the cobwebs in our heads from much too little sleep, roll up our sleeves and don our battle gear to fight to keep her with us for at least another day.
Yes, at 12am, 2:15am, 4:33am, 5:41am we are on our own. However, we know that there are people out there that stand behind us, with us, whenever we need help and for that we're thankful. We no longer worry about the dishes or the laundry or the unkempt floors (well, maybe a little bit), we no longer care about the little things in life that we used to get upset about because they are just that: little things. We've learned that even though we no longer can socialize like we used to that there's people out there that still make the effort to be involved in our lives when we can't reciprocate.
Scarlett is a treasure, a benchmark on how we can all try harder, be more forgiving, less self-involved. Everyday we have with her is one more than we had yesterday. And that brings our first year of Scarlett's medical crisis, our first chapter of "Scarlett Syndrome" to a close, allowing us to start Chapter two with a healthier, happier version of our family! Honestly, I wouldn't have her any other way because then Scarlett wouldn't be Scarlett and she's too wonderful to change.
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