We Are Deep In the Heart of Texas

Nomadic seasons of farming adventures with nature thrown in to include; a pinch of family, snippets of friends, counting our blessings, paying IT forward, home school, and the spicy things I decide to rant about.







Tuesday, September 30, 2008

Pookies Troubles: 5

I was livid
Posted Sep-26-07 20:51:41 PDT Updated Oct-01-07 16:49:43 PDT
Our guide came in, as me and the doctor stared each other down. Portuguese words flying in the air. I was ready to pounce. I could have ripped his head off.
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I waited as his side of the story was told. I then told mine.
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"I am this child's mother. I know she can feel me even though she can not speak for herself. If this man puts his hands on me again; I will be not be accountable for my actions. Do you all understand me?"
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I knew that my daugther knew I was there. I knew this was not the worst to come but she knew I was fighting for her. I would never let her die alone; I would always be there. She was in my heart and soul in ways I could not explain.
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Though I knew my intent was understood; my guide calmly explained to my daughter's doctor that care in America was different. Parents and family were encouraged to fight for their family members in care of medical staff.
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It is a difference of view; I saw this man look and realize that I would not bow to his incredible knowledge of social status. I also to my guide to be sure to tell the doctor that, "if he put his hands on my: My military training as well as mother instinct would take over. I would not be held responsible for my action."
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I seen the doctor stiffen but, I softened this with. "You may have been with patients for many years but you do not know what my daughter needs right now as far as contact. She needs to know I am here fighting with her. And I do not want to fight with you."
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It is Christmas day. I have a daughter in a coma in a hospital in a 3rd world country. We are living in a hotel with no car or money. We decided to keep the holiday quiet from our four year old son. There would be no celebrating tonight.
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I was fighting with her doctor about standards of care. Where would we go from here? We had to follow the hospital's rules of visitation. Only a few hours a day were allowed at specified times.
I know another bleed is coming but have no scientific proof or way to tell them. Yet, I know she will get better before our next journey into our family's path.
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As we left for the day; I told my husband that something was going to happen. I felt the doom of the upcoming event. Yet, I prayed and asked him to do the same; as our guide drove us back to our hotel.
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Back at the hotel
Posted Oct-01-07 18:50:15 PDT
Our translator/guide took us back to the hotel. And wished us Merry Christmas. We went into the hotel desk and asked about rental cars. He gave us directions to an agency which was a few short blocks. And we rented a car and drove around. Nothing was opened but it felt good to be free to move about. Then we went back to our hotel.
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I had managed to save stuff from the hotel buffet and we went to our rooms for the night after ordering milk for Saenz which we kept cool in ice in the bathroom sink. It was just 8 p.m. and we got our son down for the night. We then talked about nothing and everything. I told my husband of my fears of another bleed. Mind you we do not as of yet know if she had a stroke but, I told my husband that I knew our daughter had a bleed inside her head. That the bleed was a slow one but felt another coming. I also told him of my fears and we discussed keeping the holidays quiet from Saenz but would include him as much as possible in our daughter's medical life. So we went to bed laying there in the dark:
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We must have slept but was awoke by the phone ringing in the quiet of the night.
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Only one can go
Posted Oct-01-07 19:28:05 PDT
I listen to my husband talking into the phone. I feel my heart and bowels sink. I go to the toilet a few feet away and wait for the bile to let go or rise. I hear his affirmations and I know what I feared is true. I turn on the bath tub facet because we have milk chilling in the sink and I see his shadow in the door.
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"Only one of can go there now. She is bleeding and going into surgery now. Only one of us can go," my husband repeated.
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Mind you I am not her biological mother. I know the right thing for me to do is stay put with our son and wait by the phone.
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The decision is ripping the very heart out of me. Not only have I broken a promise to my daugther but now I must make the right decision for our family.
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I sat down on the tub rim
Posted Oct-01-07 19:48:40 PDT Updated Oct-08-07 16:14:51 PDT
I see his face; her blood father. I knew he should be the one but for a moment in time; I wanted to take it away. I wanted to be there.
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I look up to his face and see his total committment. And I said, "GO!, I will be here by the phone."
I just pointed to my purse and said, "take the credit card, you have the hotel's number and I will get in touch with the translator."
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He hurried away and I sat there in silence as I listened the the bells of the elevator.
He was gone and so was she...............................
I sat there
I do not know how long I sat there listening to the night sounds. I was just there in a fog. I remember nothing until I felt the need to arise to check on my son.
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I do remember walking into the bed room and looking at him so peacefully asleep. I laid down and looked at the clock which said 3 a.m. I just layed there waiting for the end to come or the morning with my son's need for milk.
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I can not descibe what was going through my head but I wait for the phone.
I sat through Christmas night alone with my four year old in Portugal. While my husband was at the hospital during my daughter's brain surgery. The doctors were placing a cerebal shunt to drain off the fluids that was causing her body to shut down. I do not think I slept, I kept praying and mediatating waiting for the phone to ring. Or daylight to dawn so, I would be able to get our translator to pick us up and take us the hospital.
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It was a long four hours and yet, I was emotionless just in a void.
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