So, Lil’ Miss in her true form made the hospital staff run around for a couple days, recovered and was released last Friday. We still don’t know what made her so sick. Virus? Perhaps.

Months ago we had booked a condo in Vail for the weekend so we packed up the oxygen, antibiotics, important phone numbers and spent a great weekend up in the mountains. It’s amazing what a little fresh air can do.

Ya gotta keep on living…..

Samantha is on Tamiflu until the H1N1 vaccine is available. She is so much better….still tired after her big nasty sickness but she DID go to school this week and attended her therapies. What a trooper.

I gotta say, I’m pretty happy about the Tamiflu…if she wasn’t on it, I think I would have her in a bubble, coated in Purel, wrapped in anti-septic wipes.

Stay Healthy 🙂

Poo is monitored very closely in our household….Samantha’s anyway. When Samantha’s poopin’, life is good.

It’s the simple things I hold onto.

So, Tuesday night when Samantha’s belly looked big and distended, I started to get worried. When she was up all night with tummy pains, I became a little more concerned and when ‘interventional measures’ failed to produce the desired result, I called the doctor.

After several hours and a 103 spiking temp, I threw in the towel and loaded the family into the station wagon, Children’s bound.

If you can avoid the emergency room at Children’s right now, do…at all costs. It’s a nasty, fluey crowded, angry place to be. I lathered Samantha with Purel, took a deep breath, hitched up my big girl pants and headed through the doors.

At triage, we discovered that Samantha’s temp had jumped from 103 to a big, whooping 106. Not 100.6 one-o-six.

High.

“I’ve never seen a temp that high.” The triage nurse said.

I was trying to keep from hyperventilating.

“Here’s some Motrin. You can wait outside and we’ll call her name.”

“You’re not taking her back now?????” I asked.

“We don’t have a room.”

“Will it just be a second?”

“Well, we’re pretty full.”

“But….you said you’ve never seen a temp that high. She has a mitochondrial disorder, she could crash at any time.” What the fickin’ hell???!!!

“I said that I’ve never seen a temp that high. I’m sure someone around here has.”

I left the room in disbelief. Seriously? No wonder people ape-shit in Emergency Rooms. I fact I could feel a little ape-shittiness coming on.

Fortunately, I had my conveted Bat Phone. You know, the Bat Signal…when Gotham City is in trouble? Instead of big Bat Wings, ours is in the shape of a big ‘E‘ for our fabulous pediatrician. I dialed her super, secret cell phone number.

“Dr. E? We’re here. Samantha has a temp of 106.”

“106? Oh shit.” (This is the first curse word I’ve ever heard Dr. E say in our 3 year relationship).

“They have us in the waiting room,” I felt my voice break.

“I’ll make a call.”

We were called into a room one minute later and Dr. E came down to consult with the ER Doc. Thank goodness for the ‘E-Phone’.

Samantha’s temp slowly came down and today she is resting fever-free. We are also managing the tummy issue with slow but consistent success. She has been tested for every virus and bacteria imaginable. We are hoping it is a bad case of the flu. What a hope, eh?

We have also decided that when Samantha gets sick, her tummy and its associated parts stop moving. We are now and forever more on high-risk poop patrol.

Samantha was admitted up to the 8th floor after her short stay in the ER. On my way up to the room, I ran into the triage nurse.

“Hey Mom, we get that fever under control?”

“She’s at 104 right now.”

“Fevers can be scary but they really don’t do any harm,” He said.

I resisted the urge to morph into my praying mantis state and tell him what a complete moron he is.

Out in the waiting room, the crowd had grown; sick, tired kids, parents with strained faces and wide worried eyes. When I walked through the doors they looked up at me and then away with disgust. I wasn’t a nurse coming out to call their name. I wasn’t a doctor; just another parent…getting in the way of who they needed to see.

I looked down and realized that in the midst of trying to control Samantha’s fever and getting her tummy to start moving that I had landed a little poopy on my shoe. Kind like a little medal of honor….congrats, you survived the ER during flu season…have some poo

My husband convinced me I should probably clean it off.

Sunday afternoon….I have two hours. If I head west, I get into the foothills and a lot of climbing. If I go east, I can ride through the corn fields, small rolling hills and gain a little more speed. I head east.

I tend to stay on the ‘Road Less Traveled’ in order to avoid traffic; this has lead me into some beautiful, remote areas. Sunday afternoon I am marveling in the beauty of a long streching corn field and small quaint farm houses.

People drive fast in the country. The road is straight, no traffic. Really, what do you have to worry about? It’s the country….live free or die baby.

As a car passes me….the only car I have seen for miles, I see a small tabby cat leap out of the corn field…..

And straight into the car…..The car was going 60, it was no contest. And much to my dismay….the car kept going! They didn’t even slow down, no brake lights…just kept going! Boo! Hiss! Poor kitty.

Now, I am not an innocent driver. I have been the cause of many a roadkill (I think the most recent was a poor prarie dog) It was quite different however, watching the scene from a bike, watching it play out ten feet away from you, without the protection of steel, rubber, and 4,000 pounds. AND then to watch the culprit drive off, leaving you to deal with the poor kitty. Which, let’s be honest, there wasn’t anything really to deal with.

I was tramatized.

I was alone on the road….just me and poor (now dead) kitty.

I must do something to right this wrong; to set the world straight.

I look over and see a small farmhouse….the home of the kitty! I MUST tell them what happened. They can’t just come out and see their poor kitty in the middle of the road.

Feeling better, I hop off my bike and head up the gravel path to the house.

Almost to the door, I encounter two, very big, very angry, very territorial German Shepards.

Oh shit

I’m trying to remember what to do when you encounter an angry dog…. Play dead

No, idiot, that’s for bears.

Turn and run!

Um…yeah…not turning my back on Cujo and his buddy

Use your bike as a shield!

I remember someone saying to do this for mountain lions. Well, these dogs seemed as big and scary as mountain lions so I put my bike in front of me and started yelling my fool head off while backing down the path. This seemed to make them feel better and they started to back away. There was absolutely no doubt that if they wanted to….I could have been Heather Jerky.

I got back to the road and my kitty friend….Yeah…screw that, they can find their own damn cat.

I started to pedal my very frightened hiney home.

In life, I try to put a positive spin on negative experiences. As I rode home I thought what’s the postive I can take from this? My conclusion?

Um….nothing.

No postive lesson here…..sorry.

I did learn that perhaps when by myself, on an empty country road, on a bike, that perhaps I should think twice before heading up to the farmhouse…I’ll let the karma and the big hairy dogmas work it out for themselves.

Mommy has been a bad blogger! She got home from a summer in the hospital and forgot about the needs of my fans. So, I apologize. I took over the blog because this week because I have to tell you Mommy’s new expectations for me.

Really, it’s just unacceptable.

She said I had to go to school!!! School???? Gone are my days of sleeping in, staying up late. Now that I’m a big three year, she said it’s time… preschool…. two days a week. Jeez…the nerve.

I don’t want to go…maybe if I ignore her…….

Or pretend to be asleep…

I can pretend for a long, long time.

Fortunately, my Para (My very own helper) came to the rescue.

Maybe Miss Linda and I can be friends.

Mommy misses me after a long day at school and requires more cuddle time. Oh I guess.

As you can tell from the pictures….school wore me out! I get physical, occupational, vision and speech therapy at school so I am busy! Rumor has it that Mommy hangs out at Starbucks enjoying her quiet time. Eh, she still misses me 🙂

Home is a name, a word, it is a strong one; stronger than magician ever spoke, or spirit ever answered to, in the strongest conjuration.
Charles Dickens

Our first weekend at home since Father’s Day.

Father’s Day was June 14th.

It’s now August 9th.

That’s a lot of weekends.

We miss life’s everyday simple gifts when in the hospital. My basic senses are deprived in such a sterile, complex environment.

I don’t smell our neighbor’s lilac bush carried on an evening summer breeze.

I don’t collect dirt underneath my fingertips when weeding my tomato bed.

I don’t taste a sweet strawberry plucked fresh from our garden…still warm from the sun.

I don’t become completely absorbed in Samantha’s face as she lays in the grass and wiggles her feet.

So this weekend I did all of these things. I also pee’d with the door open because I didn’t have to worry about a doctor, a nurse, housekeeping, or the volunteer from the library walking in. Home is a good place.

And it is even BETTER with the healing of Samantha! For the first time in months…really since April, we have a smiley, cuddly, interactive little girl. She looks so good. She feels good. She wiggles around. I can’t get enough of it. I feel drunk on her good health.

So send your prayers, your good thoughts, your juju, your divine connection with the universe, and your lucky rabbits foot that we have turned a corner and smiley Samantha is back and out of the hospital. ‘Cause really? There is nothing better.

I wake up and look at the clock….8:00 Friday morning; t-minus 24 until I have to be at the start in Leadville.

Not a problem….I’ve trained. I can pack in a day, get the family ready. Food and cold beer have already been purchased. We are good to go.

Oh wait, one small detail….we still happen to be on the 8th floor at Children’s Hospital.

I start to formulate back-up plans. Can I ride in morning and drive down to Children’s in the afternoon? How many days can my husband stay in the hospital without going batty?

I was smokin’ crack, thinking that I could pull this off, thinking that I could make this ride happen.

Crap.

Our fabulous pediatrician, Dr. E. comes into the room.

“What are your plans?” She asks

“I don’t know….what are our plans?”

“Will she be on oxygen the whole time?”

“We will never take her off of it.”

“You have all of her meds?” She asks

“Of course.”

“Here is my cell phone number. Call me if you have any problems. Otherwise, I think we can get you out of here today and you can go up.”

My eyes fill with tears. “Thank you.” I say

She hugs me “Go, ride, be careful, take good care of her and for God’s sake, don’t get hurt.”

It’s 5:30 in the evening. Samantha and I are packed up, out the door of Children’s and hopelessly stuck in rush hour traffic. We decide to leave tomorrow morning….but we are still leaving….pending Samantha’s night.

5:30 am, Saturday morning, we are on the road. Samantha is snoozing in the back. I am wondering how much coffee it will take to get me over Vail Pass. Six weeks in the hospital, God I’m tired.

We have made it.

It’s 8:30 am, Samantha is crying in the back. My husband is putting my bike together and I am trying to organize the meds and formula he will need for the day. I feel the adrenaline coursing through my veins, anxiety from the last month of hospitalizations and realize that perhaps the only thing that will calm me down is a 157 mile bike ride.

Good thing were here.

I see my team. I love my team. I kiss them all and feel a lump rising in the back of my throat. My step-dad pins a sign stating “My ride is dedicated to Samantha”, on my back. We are off.

I ride. I ride up Tennessee Pass, to Camp Hale, breathe in the pine and fresh air. I laugh, eat oranges and hold my team mates hand. As we enter the magnificent Pando valley, I am reminded of how very small I am and that maybe that’s okay. I get tired of trying to be so big. Through the valley I see members of Team Courage, riding tandem or solo. I cheer them on….so very grateful that they give me hope…hope that maybe someday Samantha can see Pando Valley from the back of a bicycle.

We stop for lunch. My team mate looks for her husband so she can breast-feed her baby. Have I mentioned how much I love my team?

And those are our three days…..we ride, curse Vail Pass, eat, sleep, wake up and ride again. Samantha is a trooper; no fevers, no pain and she sleeps off the last five weeks in the hospital. My husband and my mom watch over her like hawks, fielding calls from doctors and making sure she’s okay. This has become quite a production.

Monday is our last day. As we pack up, another team-mate pumps my tires and lubes my chain. I have become so dependent on other people this weekend. People to watch my daughter, fix my bike, look over us….have I mentioned how much I love my team?

This is the day when it all settles in for me. As I ride up Freemont Pass, I pass another member of Team Courage in a hand cycle; using her arm strength to carry her 45 miles and 2,000 feet of vertical. I look at my beefy, tired thighs. I couldn’t imagine my arms doing the climb I expect from my legs.

“Whoo Hoo! Go Team Courage!” I say.

“Thank you.” The girl replies in a breathy voice.

I get big tears in my eyes and my nose starts to run. Heather! Pull yourself together! You have to climb up Freemont Pass! There is no crying in biking! I wipe my snotty nose on the back of my glove and try to catch my breath. This is tough….because we are at 11,000 feet.
I pull myself together and manage to remain so around Turquoise Lake. As we turn onto 3rd Street, I realize that I did it….that we all did it….my team…because they love my daughter and they love me.

I try to hold back the tears as I turn into the Lake County High School. I hear the cow bells and a distant cheer of ‘Go Heather’! I see my husband taking pictures.

I ride up the hill sobbing…..one of those ugly cries…you know where you no longer have control of your facial expressions? Full body crying….pretty…..I can’t even thank the lovely girl in the wheel chair handing me my medal….no…..sorry little girl…I’m so overwhelmed, you’re so inspiring, and part of the reason why I’m crying.

I see some unknown person take a picture of me….yeah, that’s right, take a photo of the lady doing the ugly cry….nice

My team surrounds me in big, comforting bear hugs. We did it. Six weeks in the hospital, three courses of I.V. antibiotics, sleepless nights, a sick little girl, and 157 miles around the mountains. I am eternally grateful; to my husband, my parents, my friends, our doctors and our nurses….maybe it does take a metropolis…and maybe that’s okay.

Samantha’s Nonnie put together birthday highlights:

Well, it wasn’t a bbq in the backyard but we still managed to have a good time….

Birthday Wish…..

Miss. Colorado came to visit…..Samantha not so sure about any of this

Autographs for everyone….

Especially Great-Grandpa!

This is an understatement!

Tired big 3 year old.

Not an ideal location but a decent celebration. Happy Birthday Sweet Girl!

Just when I want to get all pissy and sullen that we are in TCH on Lil’ Misses birthday….I get this sent to me from her Uncle Ryan, Aunt Jen and Honorary Uncle Joe. Happy Birthday wishes from the sites in Turkey!

HAPPY

BIRTHDAY

S….

A….

M….

Wonderful!!! Thank you 🙂

Which got crazy Mama thinking….this is very last minute but if you have a second and want to send a birthday-wish photo to Samantha, send it to heather.schichtel@gmail.com and I will post your wish!

Uncle Ryan also sent Mommy a lovely new photo of herself

CHOMP!

Happy Birthday beautiful girl.

I am waging a war against these little bugs that keep infesting Baby Girl.

And oh yes, it’s very personal…

MRSA, Gram Positive Cocci, E-Coli…they are all on my hit list. At first I was somewhat casual about it. Bladder infection? Ten days of ammoxicillian? Well of course that should do the trick.

But now, after twenty days of infection and three return trips to the hospital, there is no more Nice Mommy.

It seems the infection has colonized…. Say the docs.

Colonized….I imagine little tribes of bacteria, hiding out in my daughter’s bladder, running and hiding when a big dose of ammox comes around and then resurfacing a day or two later.

“Whew! That was a close on wasn’t it Streptococcus?”

“Yeah, I think they got e-coli but we managed to escape.”

“Lets go find pseudomonas.”

Damm bugs.

So this last time we pulled out the big dogs. Two different kinds of I.V. antibiotics….vancomycin and clyndamycin…the nuclear warheads of antibiotics.

I love the smell of napalm in the morning.

And….Samantha is doing better. It seemed one more med made a difference. Her eyes are clearer, her color is better, she is sleeping better. Her blood and urine cultures are clean.

Thank God….

We also have her on a whooping dose of probiotics to try and bring back the GOOD bacteria.

The only problem is that a good General strategizes around the clock. Bacteria never sleep! We must be vigilent! Therefore, Samantha has been on a six hour med schedule.

We can do every six hours, can’t we?

Well, her meds take an hour and a half to deliver through her PIC line, which leaves four and half hours to sleep until the next dose is due, which means Mama has been a tired, cranky, General.

Today we had good news….it seems that the enemy is retreating. Today the PIC line was pulled and we are on an eight hour oral med schedule.

Eight hours is good.

Samantha is sleeping.

The General is going to bed.