I've come here tonight in an attempt to heal. During my hour long steaming bath, my gut said write.
I broke a bit today. I am not going to say I'm broken because that seems dramatic and absolute but I definitely reached my limit.
I would say that I have an enormous threshold for hard stuff. I sometimes think that it's maybe not healthy because feelings can trigger boundaries that can be healthy. The last two weeks though have not been about me, they've been about who I need to be so that LT can get through the stuff she needs to get through. This has included endless poking and prodding and pain and discomfort and restraint...and then triple that by intensity and no sleep x 10. And I'm not even kidding a little. It's been extremely hard.
I try to showcase my best energy. I go into an alter ego because if I actually acknowledged my babe's screams, I would crumble to the ground.
I thought we were out of the woods and then...
It started last night at the midnight med infusion. She complained of itching and I noticed bumps around the pic line. I called the 24 hour number and they told me they'd send a nurse today. I put some creme to help the itching, wrapped it in an ace bandage and then put on a long sleeve snug top on. I woke up this morning to the pic line hanging out her shirt. I called again and they said to go to the hospital.
So we arrived at the ER this morning. And since then I feel like I've lived a lifetime. It started with a man next to us passing away. His son arrived minutes after this happened. We sat for two hours watching him grieve. It was horrible. I cried most of the time too. It was just horrible. The social worker counseled him right outside of our bed. It was just so intense. Then another patient who's diarrhea made me dry heave over and over again. My sense were stunned and overloaded.
Then after waiting for three hours, we got ready for LT's pic line procedure. Pan to 6pm, four sedation shots later, another IV and nurses scratching their heads. LT would not give in. The doctors were concerned with the amount of sedation meds she had in her. She fought every step of the way and never ever ever let them near her.
The med staff said, we've never met a stronger 2 year old. She's such a fighter. She's so smart. This has been the common chant of the scrubs people. They all seem amazed OVER and OVER and OVER again.
Meanwhile, I've had to restrain my daughter too many times. I've had to keep her hungry and thirsty for too long (doctors orders). I've had to hold her for over 10 hours in my arms (multiple days). I've had to wipe her crocodile tears, control her thrashing, feel her fear, see her pain and share her exhaustion - all with a smile and assurance that it's ok. That's what 5 ER visits and 10 days in the hospital have done to us.
It's not ok. It's horrible and torture and I am hurting because the little babe has been through too much in her 2 year life. I'm hoping that this note is helping me purge some of my emotions because we have to go back tomorrow and do it all over again.
And before that I need to administer two more infusions through her foot IV. I just keep thinking...If she has the strength then I need to have twice that. Praying that I feel the strength. soon. Somehow I feel like writing this will help me heal so that I can be the best for my babe.
