Continued from yesterday�
The medical response was tremendous, even though it took a full half hour for the first ambulance to arrive. We had the headlights and flashers on in the Jeep, to illuminate the area, to make it easier for them to find us. And there were a dozen people there, some standing out on the road, ready to direct the paramedics to where we were. Some had walkie-talkies, and were in direct contact with them, keeping us posted as to their arrival time. I remember hearing the navy man on his walkie-talkie. Go channel 8. Switching to channel 8. Shouting to his friend to switch to channel 8 and go up to the road.
Then we saw the flashing lights in the distance and we knew it would only be moments before K was safely inside and on her way to the hospital.
By this time, K had regained consciousness somewhat. She was aware of her daddy, holding her and asking her questions. She didn't know where she was, couldn't talk really, but knew her daddy was there holding her.
The second and third ambulances arrived simultaneously. Two of them were local; basic emergency vehicles equipped for basic emergencies. The third was from Marblemount, a town 30 miles away, which was equipped with complete life support systems. That was the ambulance K would be riding in. The navy man came up to me to let me know that K would be in the ambulance equipped to deal with anything that may happen. She will be safe. Don't worry. These are the best. She will be okay.
They carried her from the tent to the waiting ambulance. As they were loading her in, she woke up fully. Became very confused and scared at what was happening. Didn't remember any of the past hour. Only knew she was waking up to flashing lights, people all around, very scared parents, and the inside of an ambulance.
P sat with her inside the ambulance for 15 minutes or so, while the paramedics assessed her and hooked her up to monitors. Outside, I still held B, but my arms were becoming weak from holding her, so I strapped her into the Jeep. She was so good. The whole time, she didn't cry or squirm. Just let me hold her. At one point, when I was crying and hugging her, she put her little hand on my face and said, it's okay mama. Mama okay. K okay? Then she saw P crying, and said, be okay daddy. Daddy okay. That was it. The rest of the time, she was quiet and subdued.
She fell asleep in her car seat. I wasn't shaking so bad anymore, and felt okay to drive. The paramedics gave me instructions on how to get to the hospital, in case we were separated some how. I vaguely recall the exits they told me to take. We gave the key ring to navy man's friend, who set about unhitching our boat and moving it out of the way so I could get the Jeep out. So efficiently and adeptly did he and his friends work. It was amazing. About an hour and 15 minutes after the whole thing began, the ambulances began to pull away. One with K and P inside, to make the trek down the mountains into Mt. Vernon. An hour and a half long drive.
I pulled out and followed behind. At the road, the ambulance turned right, instead of left. I was confused, but followed anyway. About 2 miles up the road, the ambulance pulled over, and one of them got out and came to my window. She said, honey you're driving just great. But you're following the wrong ambulance. Shit. Go back, look way up there. See the tail lights? That's the ambulance you should follow. Go, you'll catch up. So I turned the Jeep around and went back the other way.
It was 2:00 a.m., and I was dead tired, but my adrenaline was keeping me going. I concentrated on my driving very hard. Didn't want anything else to happen. Especially with B asleep in the back seat. I tried to catch up to the ambulance. But couldn't seem to ever get close. I'd see the tail lights way up ahead, and think I could drive fast enough to catch up. But my uncertainty on the dark mountain roads, and my fear of taking the curves too sharply in the Jeep kept me from catching up to them.
Just past Marblemount, I came upon the ambulance, pulled over to the side of the road waiting for me. Once I was behind them, the trip became a game of me trying to keep up with them. They took the mountain roads, which are posted at 50 max, at 70 mph, easily, wide on the curves since there were virtually no other vehicles on the road. I did the same and had no trouble. As long as I was behind the ambulance, I felt safe driving and was able to relax a little.
The hour and a half trip took us only one hour. I kept looking for the familiar towns and landmarks that would tell me where we were and how far we had to go. I kept thinking over and over, we should be getting to Concrete any time. Concrete must be just ahead. Finally thinking, did we pass Concrete? Before I knew it, we were entering Mt. Vernon, and I had to shake my head clear of the confusion I felt at not remembering going through Concrete - not to mention all of the numerous other little towns along the way.
We had to take I-5 a few miles to get to the hospital. On the freeway, I let the distance between me and the ambulance widen a little. There were no other cars near us. Except for one little sports-car wannabe, which zoomed past me to the left, and abruptly cut in front of me. Now he was between me and the ambulance. WTF? What was this guy doing? I think he saw the ambulance traveling at 80 mph, and thought this was a free ride for him to do the same. Follow the speeding ambulance, speed down the highway himself. I was thinking, man, get the fuck out of my way. I am bigger than you. I will run right over the top of you if I have to. Then I remembered all the times, right after we bought the Jeep, I had to listen to P extolling the virtues of the machine we had just acquired. Didn't mean a thing to me at the time. V-8, 5.2 liter. What does that mean, and why do I care. So I remembered. That I could go fast. I was bigger, stronger, and way faster than the little wannabe in front of me. I stepped on it and felt the power surge. I'll admit to feeling powerful myself at that moment. I quite easily overtook the little sports car and in an instant I was in front of him. It was the highlight of my evening. The driver of the other car must have realized at that moment that I was following that ambulance for a reason, because he fell way way back, properly chagrained. Made a mental note to tell P about it.
Got to the hospital within a few minutes, and they took K inside. It was a small hospital, in a small town. But well equipped.
The hospital staff was comforting and reassuring, and set about explaining what had happened, and what they were going to do. Blood tests, CT scan of her head. To check for tumors, some imbalances in her blood something or other. In the span of a few hours, all that was done. In the meantime, P had called N (K's mom), woke her up from a sound sleep, and gently told her what had happened. He was careful to tell her K wasn't in any danger. Don't bolt out the door and drive up here at 90 mph and endanger yourself. Take your time. Get here when you can. Be careful. Calm down, stay calm. He said just the right things to her, to make sure she understood K was okay, but she needed her mommy to help her get through all the testing they were going to have to do. And to take her home, which is where she really wanted to be.
N and her husband arrived about 2 hours later. We expected no less than 3 hours. Her husband is a cop, and thankfully, he drove. By the time they got there, the doctor was there explaining the results of the tests they had already taken. No tumors, no obvious problems with her blood. Sometimes this happens, he said. Seizures in children for no apparent reason. No apparent reason. She may never have another one. However, having one seizure did put her at risk to have another, though whether that would be in the near future, or 20 years from now, no one could say. Gave us all info on what to do if it should happen again, and advised N to consult a neurologist on Monday to do more exhaustive testing.
We left the hospital at about 7:00 am. N's husband drove P in the Jeep back up the mountain to retrieve all our gear. P slept a little on the way, but he was utterly exhausted, and I worried about him. I told him we should just go get some sleep somewhere, and we could worry about all our stuff tomorrow. But he was too keyed up, too emotionally wrought. When we stepped out into the hospital parking lot, he doubled over and threw up several times. From stress, from relief. From exhaustion. Probably all of that. So they drove back up, to get the stuff. And also to make contact again with all the people who had helped us. But when they got there, everyone was gone from their camps, no doubt out enjoying the mountains, playing, hiking. So he didn't get to thank them again, though navy man promised to call us on Sunday after they came down, to see how K was. So we hope to hear from him today.
So N and I drove home together, with the kids asleep in the back seat. N talked non-stop, as is her way normally, but even more so out of tiredness and a need to talk about what had happened. I tried hard not to fall asleep while she talked, but I did drift off a few times. We wondered if and when this would happen again. Now that we knew what to expect, it wouldn't be so scary. But maybe it wouldn't happen again. Maybe this was it. Or maybe it wouldn't happen for years and years. We talked about what to do it if did happen again, how it feels, what we went through, how terrifying it was. How long before it happened again?
Turns out we wouldn't have to wait long to find out. I'll have to write more later, though. Once again, replaying this has made me tired. I've slept, though, and don't feel as weary as I did yesterday.
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