At 11:16 this morning there was a storm in our living room. Unlike a typical electrical storm where lightening is first seen and then the thunder rattles around, the type of storm that occurred in our living room had thunder upon thunder before the lightening started to strike.
boom. Cody you look a little pale, are you feeling alright?
Boom. Momma my tummy hurts.
BOOM. Cody do you want to sit down, are you going to be sick?
BOOM! Sick, sick, sick. and then the repetitive, uncontrollable motions, rigidity coursing through his little body. I am simultaneously noting the time, wiping his brow with a cool cloth, readying the Diastat in case it is needed, trying to remember my address for the person on the other end of the 911 call, and searching for even a flicker of a response from Cody.
crack. That would be the lightening storm in his sweet wonderful brain. His color is shades of blue and gray and the goose bumps cover his body. His eyes look but they do not see.
Oh Cody how I wish I could rip from your head that cloud that causes the lightening. I love you so much I hurt when I look at you.
It was the first of Cody’s seizures that Carter has witnessed, the first one in which he had a partial grasp on what was going on. I think it scared him more than he wanted to admit for when the paramedics showed up he panicked and ran to hide in the kitchen. I will have to remember to talk with him about it in the morning.
I do not always call 911 but this one was different and I was out of practice. It has been six months since his last one, just enough time to forget a little and to perhaps even get a little cocky and think that maybe, just maybe, the last one was the very last one.
I am tired. The boys are in bed. We need to go in and wake him in an hour and a half to dose him with more Motrin as we try to keep the storm at bay.