Miss Clavel Turned on the Light

As you know, Sierra almost died two years ago from a ruptured appendix with abscess.  This was partly because her first surgeon was a moron, and partly because she tried for a really long time to just wait it out. When we found out how bad her situation really was, Sierra just kept saying, "But that's not how it was for Madeleine..."  That was her reason for waiting it out, because her illness didn't follow the Guidebook to Appendicitis- Madeleine!

We laugh about that now.  If I had thought of it then, I would have had all the nurses and doctors who took care of her sign a copy of Madeleine.  But I was in survival mode, and had been for six years, so I didn't do it.

Fast forward to a week ago, I am reading Madeleine to Kate before bed.  "In an old house in Paris that was covered in vines, lived twelve little girls in two straight lines..."  She had a bit of a tummy ache, but I attributed that to the pink frosted Krispy Kreme she ate after dinner.  " In the middle of the night Miss Clavel turned on the light and said, "Something is not right."

I love where my family is right now.  I love our routine, our jokes, and the stage of life we are in.  Everyone sits and eats dinner.  Nobody messes their pants.  It's all good.  But it took a stint in NICU, a helicopter ride, a court battle, and encounters with speech therapy, braces, endoscopies, colic, reflux, cancer, ADD, knee surgery, nose surgery, hospitalizations for dehydration, stitches, head glue, x-rays, ultrasounds, steroids, asthma, Hashimoto's thyroiditis, ear tubes, adenoidectomy, allergy shots, appendectomy, and even acupuncture to get us here.

I wake up later to the sound of crying through the vents.  Kate is sobbing in the bathroom directly below our bedroom.  I bolt upright, but am so confused.  What's going on?  Lines from Madeleine are all I can remember.  "In the middle of the night Miss Clavel turned on the light and said, "Something is not right."

"And afraid of a disaster, she ran fast, and even faster..."  So I ran- downstairs.  I find Emma and Kate up.  Kate is covered in puke.  She had slept on the trundle next to Emma's bed.  Puke was everywhere.  It was all over her bed, Emma's bed, and the carpet.  In case you were wondering, that lovely pink frosting from Krispy Kreme, when vomited up, will stain your carpet.

I got them both settled in different beds, and started the laundry, and carpet scrubbing.  It was 2 am.  Gotta love my good boy Titus, though, he got up and accompanied me on every trip up and down the stairs.  He wouldn't go to sleep until I did.

Kate threw up all night.  Eight times, I think.  I remembered how painful sleep deprivation is.  By the following afternoon, she wouldn't eat or drink because of pain, and was scary lethargic.  That old familiar panic settled into my gut.  Please, please don't make us go to the hospital.  No more dehydration, no more appendicitis, please! We headed to the doctor, who gave her an anti-nausea so we could try and get liquids in her.  If she could pee before dinner, she could avoid an IV.

And you know what?  She did.  The medicine was a god-send.  The panic drifted away as she got better.  And I wanted to cry.  Not just because she had been sick, but because for once in the last seven years,  a child got dangerously sick, and got better without major medical intervention.  It is a whole new world, this getting better thing.  I finally could see that all that awfulness of all those years, all the worry, and confusion...all that drama... is over.  We have grown up.  We have all gotten better!

"Good night, little girls, thank the Lord you are well... and now go to sleep, said Miss Clavel."