A Memorable Birthday
As my birthday nears, I find myself reflecting on those birthdays that have stood out over the years. One memorable birthday that comes to mind coincided with an unexpected hospital visit when Haley was five.
The school year was drawing to a close, and I looked forward to the two months of summer with my kids, with little structure or expectation to our days. But I also loved to garden, and bringing four small helpers to an expansive greenhouse was not the most efficient or relaxed way to get what I needed there, as I loved to take my time and read about the various offerings, savouring a slow and thoughtful selection process. And so, the day before my birthday, I arranged for Mom and Dad to babysit Alyssa and Connor while Haley and Brendan were at school so that I could spend a few hours at a nearby greenhouse. As I buckled Alyssa and Connor’s car seats in the third row of the van, Haley and Brendan climbed into their individual seats in the middle row. As she had done countless times, Haley reached the seat belt across her body to securely fasten it, but as she leaned, her light foam booster seat tipped towards the open van door, and Haley and the seat toppled to the cement garage floor.
Hearing her startled cry, I immediately turned, realized what had happened, jumped out and righted the overturned Haley and her booster seat. She continued to cry, and I noticed her nose was slightly bleeding. The Shrimp, as we affectionately referred to her nose because if its tiny size in relation to her softly rounded cheeks, was now injured, but she stood up slowly and brushed herself off. I got her safely into the van and headed for school.
I asked Haley several times if she was OK, reluctant to leave her at school if she wasn’t, and she assured me, between soft sniffles, that she was fine other than her nose hurting. When we got to school, I asked Haley once more how she was doing before leaving with the confidence that she would be alright and would enjoy her end of the year “fun day” day at school. As I drove to my parents’ house to drop off Alyssa and Connor, I turned my attention to my various plant needs and wants and tucked my concern for Haley into the back of my brain. I spent a few glorious hours in the sun, poking around the greenhouse. The time passed quickly, and I returned shortly after noon to collect Alyssa and Connor in time to get them home for their afternoon nap.
When I arrived at Mom and Dad’s, though, I was sickened to hear that my sister had called them – Haley was not well. Joce was our back-up emergency contact for the kids at school, and, given that I did not have a cell phone, the school receptionist had moved down the list and called Joce as Haley was feeling nauseous. Joce had picked her up immediately, brought her to her own house just a few blocks from the school, and did her best to distract Haley and keep her comfortable until I returned. As soon as I heard this, my brain shifted back to medical mode – gathering up the two younger kids and heading to Joce’s to get Haley. When I got there, she was feeling pretty well, but, as always with Haley, I worried about anything related to her head.
We went home, and I got the younger ones to sleep, thinking I’d just watch Haley as her concussion-like symptoms didn’t seem to be progressing. The hours passed slowly now, in great contrast to my carefree time at the greenhouse just a few hours earlier. By the time Greg got home and evening arrived, I had decided I needed to take Haley to Emergency as she was feeling no better. Had it been one of the other kids, I would likely have remained calm and just observed them myself at home overnight, but any problem with Haley’s head frightened me, and the nausea indicated the possibility of a concussion, or, in my imagination, something far more ominous like the jolting of her inactive tumour now wreaking havoc in Haley’s brain (I have a very active imagination). While Greg stayed with the others, I took her to Emergency, knowing that a visit there could stretch into many hours.
When we arrived, I gave Haley’s medical history to our nurse, and eventually Haley was seen by a young, friendly doctor. Given the circumstances surrounding the day’s events in combination with her optic nerve tumour, the physician was conflicted. He just wasn’t sure what to do, and jokingly told us to call him Dr. Waffle as he was waffling in his decision. Normally, he would have been content to simply observe Haley’s concussion symptoms, but given the facts of her tumour and treatment, he felt it might be prudent to do a CT scan – perhaps my imagination wasn’t so wild after all. But every CT scan is an exposure to radiation, and therefore a test to be conducted only with valid reason. And Haley had just had an MRI with the results indicating that there was nothing sinister happening in her head. In the end, Dr. Waffle decided that for his own peace of mind, and mine as well, he would go ahead with the CT scan. I appreciated his calm demeanor, and the fact that he’d given himself time to consider the options, and felt reassured that he’d decided on the one that was best for Haley.
The results eventually came, and to my great relief, showed no startling change in Haley’s head, just likely a mild concussion from the van mishap causing her nausea. We spent the night in an ER patient room, with Dr. Waffle keeping a watchful eye on Haley. In the morning, the always considerate Haley wished me a happy birthday, then apologized for me having to be in the hospital on my birthday. I assured her there was no place I’d rather be, now having the only gift I really wanted – she was just fine.