Tap On The Shoulder

By Jim

Funny how things you neglect, sooner or later, come back to haunt you. I have a circle-top wood storm door on the front of the house. I took one from an old house like mine a year or so ago, rebuilt and refinished it, and installed it. I'm really proud of it. You know, real traditional looking for the style house we have. Kind of old and.......well, just right. I put a neat-looking lock/handle set on it with a brass finish. I chose it because it looked good. Problem is, it doesn't work, not without constant maintenance, anyway. Well, it kind of went on the fritz a few months back, and I just have never gotten around to fixing it. So, for all intents and purposes, we use the back door. Well, the back door has a double-lock system on it, and you have to open one a certain way before you can begin to open the other. Not brain surgery, but tricky in a pinch. So, now with this little bit of information regarding the history of the doors in my house, you be able to appreciate a little more what I'm about to tell you.

Less than a week ago, for some incredibly anguished moments, I thought my daughter Elise was dying. My second daughter, Erin, came running frantically into the bedroom about 8:30, crying and screaming, "something's wrong with Elise, something's wrong with Elise!" I flew into the living room to find my daughter in the throes of a massive seizure. I sat her up on the couch (I realize now this was a mistake) and was confronted with positively the scariest, most desperate moment of my life. After the convulsing and jerking stopped, it only seemed to get worse, as I came to the realization that I couldn't bring her around, couldn't get her to respond, couldn't wrench her back from slipping away from me, right there in my very arms. I cannot convey in words what those moments were like. Even now, four or five days later, and I still don't seem to eat or sleep right, there's a knot in my gut, and I can't concentrate here at work. It was absolute bedlam. Sheer terror. There I was, trying desperately to help my daughter, failing miserably, five other kids screaming and crying at the horror, and Fran on the phone with 911. With everyone going crazy, chaos reigning, we told Erin to run to the neighbors and get help NOW! The lady on one side of our house is a nurse, the man on the other side is a retired gym teacher. You would think one or the other would be able to lend a hand. Of course, my daughter tried the front door and couldn't get out. She ran to the back and, all upset and beside herself, couldn't get the back door open either. So there we were, in the most critical juncture of our lives, and we couldn't get out the freaking doors! I'm not sure what happened next, but someone helped get the back door open, but it didn't do any good, because no one was home at either neighbor's house. They say timing is everything, and I was becoming convinced my daughter was going to die in the midst of a freakish alignment of bad timing, no warning, and no means to change it. I've never felt so insignificant, so helpless, so desperate. I don't know if I was crying, too scared to cry, or just too damn preoccupied to even have time to consider it. All I know is that I wanted to scream at the top of my lungs "WILL SOMEBODY PLEEEEEEEEASE HELP US?"

Around that time we could hear the sirens coming closer, so I told Fran to help Elise, because I was going to try and get the front door open so the ambulance guys could get in. (what was I saying about timing being everything?) Well, I've been in the process of building a patio in the back of my house, and it's all torn up outside the back door right now, with big stones, sand piles, bricks, holes, mud, you name it, all around, and dark as hell back there to boot. It resembles Omaha Beach after the D-Day invasion, if you get my drift. I knew I had to get the front door working if I was going to get the paramedics inside my house as soon as possible. I tore outside through the back door, flew up the front steps in about one stride (amazing what you CAN do when a life is on the line) and frantically pulled on that door with all my might. Like everything else I tried that night, I was a miserable failure. I could not get that damn door to open for anything. It would NOT open. A little set screw spinning around and around was standing between my daughter and the help she so desperately needed. I will never know a greater moment of anguish.

Getting the paramedics in and Elise to the hospital is now a blur for me but to get this story moving along, I can tell you that as of right now, she's fine, at least as far as we know. She's going to have some more tests on Friday, neurological type stuff, but all the scans, blood work, and tests they did at the emergency room Saturday night are negative. No tumors,clots, blood sugar problems, DRUGS, electrolytes, etc. We have come to find out a lot more about what was going on. Evidently, after a seizure, a person is nearly catatonic, eyes rolling in back of the head and spinning wildly in different directions all around (she had that), unable to respond, spitting or foaming at the mouth (she was doing that too). After the initial shock of seeing her convulsing, I think the scariest moments for all of us were the ensuing ones, where we couldn't seem to bring her back. I didn't know if she was going into a coma, going into a vegetative state, or dying. After doing research on it, I have begun to come to grips with the whole thing. But Saturday, not knowing what we know now, was the awakening of my life. Funny how the clothes on the floor, the smart mouth and bickering with her siblings, the sloppiness of her room, just don't seem to mean as much anymore. I didn't need to be reminded that I love her, but I have come to realize that priorities can be rearranged in a nano second. I've been frustrated because I can't get the time to work on the patio. It's not like I ever put that project ahead of my kids, but I understand even more clearly that, hey, pal, just think, you could have more time to work on your little projects with one less kid to worry about!

I believe, deep down, most of us have our priorities in order. I always felt like I have, but now I can look out the window at that patio and I don't seem as frustrated anymore. One singular moment can grab you by the throat and remind you what is really important. For awhile there the other night, I would have given anything, ANYTHING, to have my baby back. Well, I have her. And with all the uncertainty of what may lie ahead, or what the tests might show, and despite the knot in my stomach and the lack of sleep, I can write this and know I am the luckiest man alive. Statistics show that two out of every three people who have a seizure never have another one. Can you imagine that? Obviously, I pray that this is the case with Elise. We realize that we may never know what caused the one the other night. Many, many seizures are caused by things that are never detected by tests. Or, she may have some neurological disorder, epilepsy, who knows. Anyway, my mood is starting to uncloud. You may have even picked up a hint of humor in my words. I can assure you that wasn't the case Saturday and in the days that immediately followed. As for Elise, she's perfectly fine. No effects whatsoever. Goes to school. Plays in her volleyball matches. Leaves her clothes on the floor. Hasn't picked up her shoes or her room. She's just the way she was before Saturday night at 9 p m. I'll take that. I'll take that every time. I don't need any miracles that will get her to clean up her room or lose her teenage attitude. I think if you asked Fran, she'd tell you we've had a couple miracles already. She's got her baby and she finally got her deadbeat husband to fix the front door!