I looked to the baseboard next to where his head lay for signs that he had hit it. I felt his head for a bump, for blood, for something; all the while talking to him and trying to keep my voice calm for him, and just trying to get him to respond.
Having not seen him fall, I didn't know if he had been standing or fell in some other way; if he'd hit his head on anything more than carpet; I didn't know if the seizure made him fall or if the fall made him seize; I was clueless and helpless.
My wife, frantic on the phone with the 911 operator, trying to explain our situation.
I tried my best to keep his position still, to avoid any possible neck injury, but I had to keep him turned a bit to his side to try and avoid choking. It didn't work.
I saw the bit of foam at his lip. I swiped his mouth; nothing there. I saw his lips grow a shade of blue as his eyes... his eyes started to go dim.
I lived and died a thousand times in that moment; in the time it took me to breathe, and for him to not. I screamed to my wife. I cried for my sons and called to Jules, searching deep into those sweet, little eyes for a sign of what I saw slipping away. Holding his head in one hand, and his limp hand in another, I felt the sun dying, and knew how it felt for God to turn his back.
DO SOMETHING.
It blasted through my head like a comet, bringing light back to my world, and I could see, I could assess, I could take care of my son. I began CPR, silencing the panic in my heart when it felt like the air wouldn't go. I felt the air go in and I continued, finally feeling him breathe, and (Thank God) seeing his eyes light back up and give some recognition. Still, he had no control of his body, he couldn't move and for a moment, couldn't even move his eyes.
As the paramedics rushed in, he finally started to grasp my finger with his left hand and my heart lifted a bit more. I let the EMTs take over and just tried not to be in the way.
My wife, who had been on the phone with 911, and kept watch for the EMTs, and took care of getting Jules' information, later explained to me that what I had felt like was an eternity had been but a few moments (only 4 minutes for the EMTs to arrive).
Once we were in the ambulance, I'd never been so happy to hear my son scream and cry, and finally, fight. He had been very slow to regain control of his body, but now, finally, he was at least confirming for me that he wasn't somehow paralyzed. Perhaps an irrational fear, but again, not knowing how he might have hit his head, I was concerned.
We had been eating dinner and Jules didn't eat much, and had been a bit fussy earlier, and instead wanted to watch Elmo (not an unusual occurrence with a 20-month old). My wife and I stayed at the dining room table, less than 5 feet away from where he sat to watch tv. My back was to him, and I would occasionally look over my shoulder at him; my wife sat with Jules in her peripheral. She had seen that he was sitting when he fell over.
Knowing he didn't have a fever earlier, I was shocked when we arrived at the hospital and his temperature measured over 102 degrees. The EMTs had not detected a temperature either (at least it was nothing I ever heard them say).
As it turned out, our son had experienced a febrile seizure (a fever induced seizure), which it turns out is sometimes the first sign a child has a fever. Our fear that we had ignored a fever or illness was put to rest two days later when his fever broke and a rash broke out on his back and chest: roseola. First the child develops a fever, then when the fever breaks, the rash shows up. A simple and non-threatening ailment. Just not for us, but then again, what ever is?
I know losing both my sons would've been more than I could bear. I also know there are parents out there that have had it happen, and they've survived. To them, I give my deepest sympathy, because as much as I've been told, " I can't imagine what it must be like..." I can only begin to imagine what these parents have been through, and I know I could not withstand it.
It is a moment that made me thankful for every experience I've had in my life, especially some of the crazier ones; the ones that in some way prepared me to be of some kind of use during this. Maybe, just maybe, there is some kind of order to all this chaos.
This was two weeks ago this past Thursday. I still get a very weird feeling looking at the doorway to my dining room, where I kneeled in the floor with my son. My son, however, has no such issue. He was right back to running around and keeping us busy with his toddler antics. He's been having a fine time ever since, considering we've spoiled him even more than usual ever since this. It started, however, with popsicles at the ER (which we've already received a bill for...)
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