The ER

This week started out as one of the hardest weeks in a long time. Brock woke me up Sunday night with extreme abdominal pain. It didn't go away and when I palpated his stomach it was hard and tender up by his gallbladder so we headed to the hospital. The same hospital that our baby was taken to. The same place I was told that I now was a mother to an angel. Where I was told that my life will forever be changed. I had anxiety just driving there knowing where we were going. When we finally got back into a room they put us into the room directly across from the room that my entire life changed. I was able to stare directly into that room. All those emotions and feelings came flooding back as I stared at that room. I'm grateful that it was empty because I'm sure it would have been a lot worse if there would have been bustling around in the room. I never wanted to set foot back into that hospital again. The one time I had to for 5 minutes to drop off a Corby shirt to a friend I had a mental breakdown and lost it, and that wasn't even going into the ER. I never wanted to go there ever again. So being there for several hours having to look at that room and see the same tech that did compressions on Corby that night really killed me. It added to the stress of me already being worried about my husband writhing in pain on the bed. It was really nice to be able to talk with a fellow member of the "angel club" that happened to be there as one of Corby's nurses the night that we brought him in. He was kind enough to stay awake to chat with me when he was home. He was able to calm me down and reassure me that the anxiety and feelings I was having were all normal and he too still has those kind of feelings about certain things that remind him about his baby girl. I'm very thankful to have people like that in my life to help me with what I need.
He told me that Corby's night has haunted a lot of people that were in the ER that night and that nobody has forgotten him nor that night. Later the ER tech told me that she recognized me right away, but didn't know what to say to me in case I didn't remember her. There are some people that I remember from that night and others that I don't. I remember her specifically because I watched her do compressions on my son's tiny little body. That night is still so vivid and clear to me. I can close my eyes and it feels like I am standing in that room looking at the monitor willing as hard as I could to see his heart start back up and be able to watch it beat on the monitor. I remember everyone telling me to sit down. I didn't want to sit down I wanted to make sure my baby was ok. I remember someone standing next to me explaining to me everything they were doing to try and get his heart started again. I don't know if I will ever forget about that night. I don't know if it will ever not feel like I'm still standing there in this stagnant reality that I don't want to believe.
It's not just me that had anxiety. Brock's sister was an angel and was willing to bring us some necessities that we needed and drop some milk of to my parent's for Ledgyr and as she got to the room after we were admitted she had a lot of anxiety. I could see it all over her face. It made my heart ache because I knew why she looked that way.  She told me that it's because the last time she came to that hospital was in the middle of the night to say goodbye to her little nephew, and she too never wanted to go back to that hospital again. My parents also had a lot of anxiety, as well, because the last time they were called in the middle of the night it was the worst news of their lives. I forget how many lives this has affected. I hate that this has hurt so many people. So many people have so much pain in their hearts too, and that hurts me to know that I am not the only one in pain over the death of my son. I think about little things all the time that would be different if he were here. He would be playing with Brock's sister's son all the time. He would be another chatterbox in the back of my car. He would be that third little bum in the bathtub at night. He would have been the third child that my parents would have picked up that night in the ER. I think about how it would have been harder for them to take three children in their car. I wonder if we would have given them our car to take the kids in and used their car. I wonder how all sorts of situations would be different. I feel guilty sometimes because it is easier to take two kids around rather than three and sometimes I feel a relief that there is two. I wish there were three and I would deal with the struggle that more kids sometimes cause. I would gladly handle that any day of the week, but I still feel guilty. I guess that is part of the grieving process to feel guilty. Even if the death you had no control over. Your mind will still find something to feel guilty about. My counselor warned me about that. She told me to not feel guilty when I get a relieved feeling for certain things. Her example she gave was to not feel guilty when you feel relieved that you have one less child to buy school clothes for. She is right though. At the weirdest times I have moments of relief like that. Then comes the guilt after. Always guilt.
To report on Brock. He is fine. He had to have his gallbladder removed. He had several gallstones that could be seen on the ultrasound as well as a very elevated white count. The physician was worried that it was infected so they wanted to have it taken out right away. After it was out the surgeon came out to talk to me about how the surgery went and told me that it was severely diseased and it was one of the most diseased ones he has seen in a while. Before the surgery I was upset that they were insisting he get it taken out, but now having that knowledge I'm glad that he had the surgery. I'm so thankful that it was only his gallbladder and not something else. With my broken heart and mind my initial thoughts where he had something serious like cancer and  he would be dead in a few weeks or there was a problem with an organ that couldn't just be removed. So not only would I lose my son I was going to lose my husband as well and I was going to be a widow before I am even 30. I used to try to think glass half full type thoughts until I lost a baby suddenly and for no reason. Now my mind jumps to the worst case scenario first. I am starting to see that if I think that way then when something bad happens I'm not devastated or surprised, but if it turns out better then I am pleasantly surprised. That's good right? ;) I'm glad that everything turned out fine, but I still don't think I was ready to be back in that ER. I still don't plan on going back there any time soon if ever again. I'm glad we are moving so far away so our hospital that will be close to us now won't be that hospital.