As much as I try to remember the good times we had with Jack, my mind often drifts back to our time at SickKids. I remember when we first heard whispers of being transferred there, I was relieved he would be seen by some of the best doctors in the world. It still hadn't occurred to me he was being transferred there because he was dying. I guess my mind wasn't letting me go there, even though he had coded, and been intubated and was unconscious. Looking back, they had told us they had heavily medicated him because he had suffered a seizure that morning and was in pain. I thought his eyes were closed because of the medication, I didn't realize they would never open again.
The ambulance ride to SickKids went so quickly. I remember feeling giddy on the ride over as I've never been in one before and the sirens were blearing. We went through a side entrance into the hospital, through some underground entrance so people couldn't see us. Scott drove from our first Toronto hospital to SickKids to meet us there, so it was just Jack + me + the two transportation ladies.
Originally they took us to the Pediatric Intensive Care Unit (PICU), because the NICU was full. The nurses there were sweet, but the head Pediatric lady was a stone cold bitch who kept asking me the same questions, making me feel like I had done something wrong. Jack was referred for a CT Scan of his brain to monitor the swelling, so off he went. While he was gone, Scott and I went to find our parents who we had called to let know of the situation. When Jack was back, he still had little tiny yellow ear pillows, meant to protect his ears from the loud CT Scan.
We were told the NICU had a spot for Jack, in isolation (because of the Meningitis which they still weren't sure of), so he was transferred there after about 4 hours in the PICU.
It's the little things I remember now. Like all the tubes. He had arm tubes all over his right arm, including a board to help support it all since he was so tiny. He had a breathing tube and another tube to remove liquids from his stomach. They did a great job of keeping that thing cleaned out and clear. Over the course of his stay there, he had so many tubes and needles and everything, it was awful. He eventually had them in the side of his head as the others kept collapsing. Wanna see something heartbreaking? That's your shot right there.
His little hands were covered in bruises and puncture wounds from the needles. That really bothers me.
I remember the tiny circles meant to hold the various monitors on his body. They had different prints/objects on them and I would tell Jack what ones he had "collected" each time they changed (which happened often as the monitors would lose their stickiness). "Jack, you're a lucky boy! Today you have a ducky, a sail boat, a bear, a heart, and a doll. What a lucky boy you are to have all these nice things", I would tell him.
Gah, I'm crying too much to type... I'll try more later.
21 hours ago