Trying not to play the game

I'm not going to post this on Facebook. Unless you've signed yourself up to receive notifications, you won't even know I wrote it. I'm not looking for, nor do I even want reactions. If you're someone who happened to find this blog entry who is going through a similar situation, maybe at the very least you'll know you're not alone in this.

Today is a little bit terrifying; not much, just a bit. I suppose it could be more so, but I'm trying not to play the "what if" game... "What if he doesn't come out of the next seizure?" "What if I do the wrong thing and make things worse?" "What if this is the day..." I'm not finishing that one.

I have some things I'd like to get done. I'm having a hard time concentrating. Somehow the safest frame of mind seems to be sitting in a dazed state except to remain keenly aware that at any second I might have to go running back to his room. He's had several seizures today, what appeared to be hallucinations (reaching/grabbing during the post ictal state), his O2 sats dropped to 85 and after the spike of the seizures (usually well over 100 but I didn't have the monitor on), his heart rate plummeted to 50. After I finally got him to respond, his O2 went up to 95 but his heart rate remained kind of low. I don't know if that's normal. By then, he had Adivan in his system.

Then there's the ever present question, "Do I call the ambulance?" I don't want to call them if it's only going to make matters worse for Ryan due to the stress of having to go to the hospital again. I don't want to keep him here if he needs to see a doctor. Where's that line? I never know. If you're reading this, you don't either. Rest assured, I will call if he isn't coming out of them. He's resting now. I am much more prone to believe that he'll be alert and harassing us this evening or at the latest, tomorrow morning.

I'm a little drained. I might be a tad teary eyed tonight, although I can't crater. I need to be on top of my game in case he does need to go in. I'll be asked the same horrible questions. I'll matter-of-factly give the same clinical answers. I wonder if this time, there might be enough health care staff to pin him down for the very painful procedures so Mom can just hold his hand and comfort him. I doubt it. I'll hold him down, shutting down my emotions so I can do what needs to be done. I'll save the panic attack for later. No worries if you're not able to yet. It's a learned skill, but one that has been a band-aid solution during emergencies. We've gotten through them.

I will remember that the likelihood of the worst happening is slim. I choose to concentrate on the fact that, despite the odds, Jim and I have weathered some pretty dark storms together and we will again. I will call to mind the fact that there is a strong support network for us and for Ryan. I will remember that the Heavenly Father cares far more deeply for Ryan than I am capable of doing as a finite human. Now I'll go make supper because that's what you do at 5:15 p.m., regardless of what else is going on. I'll take a deep breath and move on. I'll pray, although it might be without concrete thoughts. This whole post is a prayer, in a way. I know He hears. I know He sees every twitch, every strained muscle, every time Ryan's eyes roll back in his head. He knows where Ryan's pain is. I wish He or Ryan would let me in on the secret. Just sleep now, Ryan. You need it... and I need to make supper. It's 5:20. I didn't make it to the grocery store again. Now to be creative. We keep moving; we keep functioning; we try not to play the game.