Forgive the break in writing. I have just finished quite the dramatic episode in this wonderful world of our lives. It seemed appropriate for me to take time to reflect before sharing this part of our story.
It started with a late night trip to the ER on Wed., when I came home from work to find Avi had broken out in a rash literally from head to toe and spiked a fever. Initially it seemed as though he had a stomach virus because the fever had followed several days of...well you can only guess, and if you can't then you have never had kids with a stomach virus. In the ER the doctors discovered that Avi's blood pressure was dangerously low and his heart rate was dangerously high, his fever mysteriously gone. The doctors said he wouldn't have made it through the night if we hadn't come in. Two days later they took him off the heart monitors and told us they would keep him over the weekend and start his last dose of Chemo early. We thought, "OK, start early, end early. Woo-Hoo!" Aside from being bloated, Avi was fine and ready to tackle his last dose. Sunday, the whole family congregated in Avi's Hospital room and we watched movies, had dinner and just spent time enjoying each others company. Avi took the first part of his dose fine, except for a headache and the bloating got worse. The doctors gave him something for the water weight, in order to start flushing out the constant amount of fluids they had to give him during his treatment. Monday, was the day from hell. After speaking to him a few times in the morning and being reassured he was fine I was in the midst of my work day and a play date when I got a call from a number I knew to be the hospital and answered it thinking it was someone to schedule and appointment. It was the doctor, telling me that they think Avi had an "adverse allergic reaction" his last dose of Chemo. He was unconscious and being rushed from the oncology floor to the ICU. He had been intubated, he was on a respirator, his blood pressure had dropped severely yet again and his heart rate was dangerously high. He almost died.
I think the most important part of this part of our journey isn't what came during the chaos, but what we were able to say to each other after. The doctor had told me that while he was unconscious they revived him long enough to ask who to call. He said, "Shawna, call Shawna." or that when I walked into the ICU room to find him naked and spasming in what they thought was a seizure I asked the nurse if Avi knew I was there and could hear me, before the nurse could answer Avi shook his head yes. Through tears we shared our versions of the story gathering together a whole picture of what happened. I told him, "Never again!" could I go through something like this. It gave me a panic attack like I had never felt before, and a terror I never want to experience again. In his version he was surprisingly more lucid than we all thought and said he kept thinking that too many men I cared about had died and he kept telling himself that he wasn't going to die on me too. Within two days he was out of ICU and home with me. We spent the weekend looking at each other and being really grateful for life, for our love and for our families.
Today I am grateful for...
life
love
family
the one more day I get to be with him
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