A Mother's Kiss

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Status: Finished  |  Genre: Non-Fiction  |  House: Booksie Classic
This is an essay about a personal experiance of my child suffering from a feberile seizure.

Submitted: December 06, 2011

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Submitted: December 06, 2011

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Mother’s Kiss

 

My better half has told me to let it go. Try to keep it as far from my thoughts as possible. But how could I? I remember, as if it was just a moment ago. It plays on, over and over again like a broken record in my head. I’m constantly awoken in the middle of the night wondering if everything is ok. Walking and checking, looking and peeking into his room like a paranoid schizophrenic. No reason to worry really, but I still do. I wonder if this feeling of paranoia will ever pass.  It’s been over a year now sense my two year old son had a febrile seizure, so I feel that this roller coaster feeling of emotion is somewhat abnormal. The good day’s feel like more the end of the ride then the beginning. The sigh of relief when your cart comes to a sudden stop and you can get off the ride. The bad day’s are the sound of the old clinking of the cart going up a steep hill, teetering at the top of the world, no control over what’s to happen, whatever is going to be will be.  Then before you can catch your breath you’re in panic; nowhere to go, not sure how to feel. Should I scream should I cry? Please someone tell me I’m not losing my mind.

It started on Saturday afternoon. Everything was normal in the household. The sighs of three irritated ten year olds humorously filled our house as they did their chores. I found myself a moment to sit down and relax for about four minutes before I was up to check the pouter’s progress. That’s when the simple kiss of mother’s lips revealed slight warmth of an illness pending. A minor fever, I thought to myself, Tylenol to the rescue.

Not four had passed and I checked to see if the Tylenol had done its work for that pesky little fever. To my surprise that little fever had turned into a sweltering inferno on my son’s forehead. Still without much worry, after all it was just a fever; I gave him some IB Profane. I lay back on my bed, my son rested his molten head upon my chest and I waited for his relief. Ten minutes later mother intuition set in. I had an ever so eerie feeling that something was wrong. I looked down at my son resting on my chest and I noticed a twitch. “Are you alright Leemy”, I asked. Leemy is a nick name I call my son, short for Liam. My heart skipped a beat as I heard no response. I picked him up and looked into his glassy, non responsive eyes. His face was strange, one side of his lips had sunken to his chin, and his eyes rolled back into his head. He then began to seize. Panic stricken I scooped up my two year old into my arms. I had no idea what was happening. “Is he having a stroke, is he dying, was it the medicine I had just given him not ten minutes earlier. Did I do this to my child?”

The next day I was feeling better knowing that what my son had experienced was a sudden fever spike that caused a seizure. Not common to my understanding but not rare. The doctors at Urgent Care diagnosed Liam with strep throat, that’s where the fever came from. They gave us a prescription for antibiotics and sent us on our way. My anxieties had been eased, or so I had thought. Standing in the check out at Wal-Mart purchasing Liam’s medicine, I hear the sound of impending doom. “It’s happening again!” I looked behind me to see my husband wrestling my son out of the cart. All those horrible feelings came flooding back to my body. I felt as if I was being carried by a tidal wave of emotion, unable to keep my head above the air stealing water. Why is this happening to my beautiful boy?

After the entire day in the ER, doing horrific tests on my son to try and find some sort of explanation. I was left with only the simple explanation of a febrile seizure. Nobody seems to know why my boy was a target, or if I can expect more in the future. All I know is the unknowing is like my life in a twister’s path. Will it hit, will it miss. I will tell you that just like farmer’s fear of those spring storm clouds on the horizon; I fear the mothers kiss of impending illness.


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