Sorry to just break off like that, but I have been having issues still after the whole ordeal and couldn't keep going. It's hard to relive so soon, but I know it will be cleansing for me to do this... write it all out and get it out of my head and onto paper (blog screen) instead.
So once they were done with Max's xrays, we walked up to the next floor where he would be staying - the ICU unit. My mom, Kaitlynn, and Sharon stayed in the waiting area while Matt and I went with Max. They had told us he was being kept at least overnight and maybe longer depending on what his injuries looked like. It took 4 hours for a doctor to come talk to me. Matt had already gone back to the campgrounds with our moms and KJ. He was beating himself up and wasn't able to really keep his composure for very long. Kaitlynn had come in to see Max and she wouldn't touch him or look at him. She was so afraid of him and for him that we had to take her out. It was best for Matt to go back to the campgrounds and distract her (and thankfully himself). I stayed and pushed for the neurosurgeon to review the tests and tell me what the hell was going on with my son. He was still in a neck brace and hooked up to machines reading his BP, heartrate, etc. They had cut his clothes off so he had only a diaper on. It was so hard to see him like that. Finally the neurosurgeon came in and said he was confident that Max had no injuries from his fall other than a serious concussion that they wanted to monitor overnight. They wanted to make sure he didn't show any signs of a brain bleed either. He told me that if Max had hit his head 1 centinmeter lower, he would had snapped his neck and probably woundn't be with us. I asked him, "Why would you tell me that?!?" and tried not to start sobbing. He explained that Max was lucky on each injury he had and he wanted me to know just HOW lucky we were. If Max had hit his knee just a little over left OR right, he would hav busted his kneecap or blown out the side of his knee. The bruising and swelling on the top of one foot was so bad, they were sure it was brioken... but no. He used it just fine and the xrays showed no break, fracture, hairline, nothing. Each injury sustained the least amount of damage possible. Dr Sun wanted us to understand that someone was definately watching out for our son. He took the neck collar off and left. I was very grateful that a nurse had prepared me for Dr Sun, the famous neurosurgeon because I would have reacted very differently otherwise. He lived in Sunnyvale so he worked out of the Oakland Children's Hospital primarily. He also traveled all over the country to consult on other cases. He is considered one of the best pediatric neurosurgeons in the country. He was cocky because of it, too. So I was polite and not pushy with him, but made sure he answered my questions without insulting him or showing my absolute fear and frustration. After that we dealt with all the other residents and nurses working there.
Max refused to eat all night and was kept on pain meds throughout the night due to his head pain. He would hold his head and cry making it hurt more, so the crying would come down to a whimper. It was heartbreaking to watch and not be able to make it better!! All night if the monitor started beeping I would fly up to him and make sure his BP was ok, that his IV hadn't kinked again, that he was still breathing, and make sure it was just a lead coming off. I was so afraid and anxious, I might have gotten 2 hours of sleep all together. I was exhausted, but kept panicing everytime he cried or heard beeping, or just to walk over and make sure he was still ok. That was the worst night of my life. I couldn't break down and sob though because that would mean I was scared, and if I was scared, that would mean there was something wrong with Max. There couldn't ba anything wrong with my baby. He had enough to deal with trying to just learn to talk correctly! God could not be so cruel as to hurt him any further. This is what I was thinking at the time, not how I feel now. But the intensity was so overwhelming, all I could do was stay strong and alert, otherwise I would freak out or fall apart and be no good to Max or anyone. It just kept going through my mind that this was really happening and my son was hurt in a special hospital for hurt and sick children... hurt babies like mine. I ept telling myself that he was going to be ok, yet still thought, "How will we be able to deal with a baby who will have seizures the rest of his life?? How unfair to him!" "What if the bleed starts and we lose him?" "What if he goes into a coma?" All things they said were possiblilties... all things that I didn't think I could make it through. I had to force myself not to think of those possibilities and just think positive. It was so damn hard!
The next morning Max woke up starving. He hadn't eaten very much the morning before his accident, and he had thrown up in the helicopter and during the tests when he first got there. He had nothing on his belly and I could totally understand why he was hollering for "EAT!" If you know Max though, you know I couldn't just give him a little sip or a few bites and have him be okay with it. He wanted more and faster just like when he was a baby, like now, he is an eating machine. The first time he threw up I thought it was just because he overate. So did the nurses. The doctor that morning thought so too and suggested he try to get up and walk around. He was so excite to get unhooked from the monitors and IV!! We walked back and forth around the ICU unit. Max was so aware of the sick babies and the other hurt children. He was bothered by the large 12 year old boy in the next bed over from Max. The boy had been shot in the ye, in the stomach, and three times down the leg. He was disfigured, swollen, and bandaged up quite a bit. Max was afraid of him as well as sad for him. He backed away, but said, "Oh ouchie" several times. He said, "Baby" when we past the little 13 month old baby that never woke up or cried. The one that no one ever came to see when we were there. The poor thing that was held by the nurses every chance they got, but was all alone. That one killed me. It was so tiny it only looked 4 or 5 months old. They were constatly trying to keep it's breathing and heart rate under control. Max looked at everyone, wanted to touch every machine and push every button. As hard as it was to walk around with him like this, I was so happy he was up at all and wanting to push buttons. We finally made our way back to his crib cage, and he was tired and thirsty. He guzzled down more juice and promptly puked it and everything else in his tummy all over his bed. He continued to dry heave for the next few hours in between cat naps... or more like getting in a cat nap in between dry heaving. He became lathargic again and the nurses said it wasn't looking too good. He probably wasn't going to get to go home that day. I was so worried all over again.
When the doctor finally came around again, he assured me that Max was just weak from lack of real food and from throwing up, but that he was just having syptoms of the concussion. I could expect the vomitting and head pain for several days, but that they were symptoms I could treat at home. Max was going home that day after all!!! He gave my a list of things to watch for and back in the RV we went... straight back to Sacramento!
Max did fine that evening, but went into refusing to eat mode and dry heaving for hours that night. Daddy stayed up with him and said it was an average of 20-30 minutes between dry heaving sessions for most of the night. Max wasn't doing so hot and I was getting scared again. He couldnt keep the Tylenol down, so his pain must have been horrific. I got him into the doctor's office piggybacking on Mike's appt that we had already had scheduled. She examined him and called a fellow Kasier doctor who was also a pediatric neurosurgeon out of Roseville. He wanted Max in ASAP for an emergency brain scan to make sure there was no leakage of blood in his brain. I was in a panic all over again. The next few hours were so very sressfula nd the fear was intense all over again. For the first time I am admitting that I asked a nurse to sit with Max so I could use the restroom. He was passed out and I was feeling nausiated. I went to the bathroom and puked my guts out and sobbed over the toilet. I just knew it was too good to be true that he could come out of a fall like that with bruises and a concussion. I was falling apart alone in a bathroom and gave in to the fear. It took me 10 minutes or so to compose myself and get back to Max... because what if he woke up and I wasn't there??!?! Thats the only thing that got me out of that bathroom. The nurse looked at me and squeezed my arm when I got back to them and said to hang in there. It was appearantly obvious I had been crying. Even the CT Tech treated me like I was fragile, so I could only imagine how I looked. I am not one to really ever look fragile. After the scan we had to wait in the waiting room for a radiologist to read the scan to see if there was a leak or anything else that might be dangerous for Max to walk around with. Sharon and Matt arrived at the hospital while we were in the waiting room. It seemed like forever for someone to come out and tell us what they found. They found nothing. No leak, bleeding, swelling... nothing... I cried with relief.
In the next few days, Max was back up and running around. He was flushing things down the toilet, fighting with his siter, making messes everywhere... adn laughing again. That sound of him running around laughing made all the messes and fighting and screaming worth it... he was ok again...
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Max and I are both still dealing with what the doctors said was Post Tramatic Stress. Max wakes up sometimes gasping and trying to tear an invisible IV out, or claws at his face trying to pull off the oxygen tube from his nose that is no longer there. That is becoming less frequent, and he sleeps almost normal at night now, two weeks later. My doctor knew I had had a stress anxiety attack the week before Max's accident and ended up in the ER. She and I both knew it was really bad timing for it all to happen within a few days of each other, and that I was pretty emotionally overwhelmed. She prescribed Ativan to help me when the panic and anxiety started to get the best of me. I am doing better... I only check on Max once or twice a night now instead of every hour... I don't coddle him anymore at all and try not to overreact when the kids get to rough housing and Max comes close to banging his head. Poor KJ and Mike got punished a few times in the beginning as if they had tried to purposely kill Max... I was going overboard with the protective Mama Bear Claws... but we're both doing much better now and I am so much more appreciative of each of my children's different personalities, quirks, abilities, challenges, etc. I dont have so many expectations, just grateful that they are healthy happy and mine.
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