Part 3

We were already so exhausted.  Sam was moved to the pediatric wing.  Pete was still staying with him at night, and I was there during the day.  Except for a few moments in the evening, we were learning everything separately.  We were trying to keep things pretty normal for the other boys who were in school and running.

Tuesday night, Andrew did not feel well.  He seemed tired and out of sorts.  I told him just to sleep downstairs, so I could keep an eye on him.  He woke up around midnight and started talking about geometry.  I flipped on a lamp so I could see him since he was not making sense, and he started having a seizure.  I worked with him and prayed for it to go away.  I was not all awake myself.  Then he started into another one.  It was rough.  So I called 911.  I told them that my husband was at the hospital already with my youngest son and that Andrew was looking bad and that I needed help immediately.  As I waited for them, I tried to get Andrew to come out of his seizure by talking to him, yelling at him, and pleading with him.  I woke the boys up upstairs and ran to get Andrew's medicine (the 911 operator must have told me that - I don't remember that part clearly).  I opened the front door and turned on the porch light.  I was running around like a crazy person running from Andrew back and forth to try to get help more quickly.

Finally, they came. We only live a couple of miles from the ambulance station.  Two young guys came, and one took a quick look at Andrew who was not moving at that point.  He scooped him up and said they would have to take him.  That about did me in.  I remember running outside behind him (after giving the other guy Andrew's meds).  I put my hand on his back so he would not fall backwards as he jumped up in the back of the ambulance.  At that point, I was crying and pleading with God to help him and pleading with Andrew to wake up.  I was not doubting God was there.  I was crying out to Him in a way I had never had to before.  I knew He was listening.  It's almost like crying out to Him (literally) was the only thing I could do.

Someone, a paramedic or fireman, told me I had to calm down.  And I remember telling him I was really not crazy.  Then I flew back in the house to throw on some clothes.  I asked the boys to call some people and ran to the car.  As I took off down the road, I remember Peter sitting on the front porch.  I could not even stop for a second to assure him that Andrew would be okay.  He was not breathing when they put him in the ambulance.

I called Pete and flipped my phone open to speaker.  I was crying and telling him to get someone to stay with Sam and to run down to the ER.  He told me later he could only hope I was exaggerating.  As I pulled into the hospital parking lot not three miles away from our home, Pete called to tell me he was with him; and he was breathing.  Relief flooded through me.

I ran into the ER and asked to see Andrew.  They asked for my insurance card.  Unreal, I know.  I needed to see Andrew.  But I did have it with me and soon was on my way back to see him.  I know if Pete had not called, I would have had to jump over the counter; but fortunately I did not have to do that.  I hurried and gave the unfeeling person my information.

In the back, the paramedic handed me Andrew's medicine bottles from his pocket.  The other apologized for taking him so quickly.  I thanked them and assured them that I called them for help and appreciated their fast help.  When someone is not breathing, you don't want someone to move with turtle speed.

In a little while, I ran and got the car while Pete walked Andrew out of the ER.  He went back upstairs, and I took Andrew home where my parents were already there waiting to help us.  It was a terrible night, but Andrew was okay.  Sam was okay.  And that was what was most important.