The worst week of my life

It was a Sunday in March 2001. As usual, she came into my room early, because she woke up according to her biological clock and wanted to play. I wanted to sleep longer and used to kick her out of my bedroom. So many times I did this, so many times she came back shortly afterward with my breakfast, arranged in her own way, on a tray. But that morning she did not return. And I did not even miss her, because I slept again.

When I got up, I saw her prostrated on the sofa, burning with fever. There was a slight reddish swelling behind her ear, and I immediately took her to the hospital. They gave her medicine to lower the fever and said it seemed to be mumps, but the strange thing was that she was already immunized against it. How could it be? We went home and stayed quiet for the rest of the day.

On Monday morning she was feeling better, then I took her to school and went to work. But at lunchtime when I picked her up at school, she was feverish again, the edema behind her ear had grown and the skin around it was all red and hot: a clear sign of infection. We returned to the hospital. Then the worst week of my life began.

The doctor decided she had to be admitted to the hospital, although he did not say exactly what she had. My little girl needed to get an intravenous antibiotic, which would fight the infection more effectively. But to prick a vein in her... oh, she was afraid of needles. She was only five years old, but it took four adults to hold her. After the nurse got the vein, then antibacterial therapy started. The pediatrician did not give me any diagnosis, but the anesthesiologist tried to reassure me by saying "it's lymphadenitis, the antibiotic therapy is correct." But what the hell was lymphadenitis?

The antibiotic came in her blood through that tiny “pipeline“, which ended in a needle under her skin. But she was a child, agitated, and the needle got displaced very easily. In the first four days in the hospital, it was necessary to catch a new vein every day. I talked in a playful way about the need for a new "pipeline", she agreed, but when the needle came close, she screamed, flinched and cringed. Then I had to be hard towards her, and of course, hold her very tightly, with the help of other three nurses. After the new vein was caught, I used to leave the room, embrace the first human being who crossed my way and cry.

Although she started on the antibiotic as soon as she was admitted to the hospital, the infection still advanced for three days, deforming her face and neck in a horrible way. The pediatrician came every day, I asked what it was, and she did not say it openly - she just said it was “under control“. WTF! With my daughter looking like a little monster, how could the thing be "under control"? Her appearance was quite frightening, but she was fine, talkative, active. On the third day, while she brushed her teeth in front of the mirror, she asked me, "Mommy, am I going to be ugly like this forever?" "Surely not, my darling" I replied.

Lymphadenitis - that name was in my head, and only on the fourth day of hospitalization the pediatrician confirmed the diagnosis: acute lymphadenitis, an infection in the lymph nodes, responsible for defending the body against bacterial attacks (they are located at the bottom of the jaw, just below the chin, cheeks and ears). Imagine this region swelling, swelling until you no longer see your neck... it was very scary to see.

We had a private room, then I brought a video and some movies to the hospital to entertain her a little. I was not able to stay there with her all the time, because I had to work. During the day there was always someone with her, our nanny or her teacher, who came every afternoon to visit her. As soon as I left work I drove directly to the hospital and stayed with her until the next day. 

In this week there was a special demand for our department: the new CFO had assigned me to organize a farewell party for the former director, who had retired after 43 years of work at the company. This demand was assigned to me BEFORE my daughter became ill, but even with her in the hospital, I continued with the responsibility of coordinating the organization. Initially, I should be at the party on the Saturday night to do the ceremonial. But I told my workmates that I would only go if my daughter got better, so it would be good if some of them got ready to assume the role of the master of ceremonies. But the response I received at that meeting was not comprehensive at all. It was like "you have to do this (the ceremonial), we can’t do it like you would." Full support and understanding, as one can see. They could not imagine what I was going through. By the way, all colleagues were women.

From the fourth day on, the infection began to decrease, then the pediatrician decided to adopt the oral antibiotic, to avoid having to find a new vein every day. The deformity on her face and neck was slowly giving way to normality, but an abscess was formed on the neck, with the remaining infection pus. And to withdraw it, it had to be operated. "A very simple procedure," said the surgeon.

My little girl was always very involved in the conversations. "Operate? Do you have to cut my neck? I do not want it! It will hurt". Then another struggle began: to convince her that it was necessary to take away the "little germs" that were inside the abscess. I explained to her how simple it would be to remove it, pretending I was the surgeon and doing it step by step. We “rehearsed” several times, beginning with the "smell" that the doctor would put in her nose and that would make her sleep, so that she would not feel any pain. Then a little cut on the neck, clean up the germs, stitch and ready! But when I put my finger lightly on her neck, she opened her eyes wide and said: "I can feel it, it's going to hurt!".

Saturday night, the director's farewell party. And there was no other way: I had to go and do the ceremonial. No one embraced this task for me. The honoree himself came to me and asked: "I heard your daughter is hospitalized since Monday. Why are you here despite that?" I had no answer for that.

The surgery was scheduled for Sunday. I put on sterile clothing, entered the Surgical Center, and stood by her side. But she was so tense and anxious that it took four adults and about five minutes until she stopped struggling in our arms under the effect of the anesthesia. At that moment I left the surgery room and I fell in tears helplessly outside.

It was really fast. Less than an hour later she was back in the room and waking up from anesthesia. "I told you it was going to be fast and it would not hurt". She had no pain, but could feel the stitches, so, no way to agree with me. The surgeon said that there was a lot of pus and that the material would be sent for analysis, but that probably it was a Staphylococcus, a bacterium very common in infections of that type.

We were able to go home the day after the operation, after a week in the hospital. It was still necessary to continue with the antibiotic for five days, besides taking care of the wound in the neck. The pediatrician recommended cleaning it with an iodine-based antiseptic. Only then we discovered that my little girl was allergic to iodine! The next day the neck was all red and burning, although painless. And we went to the hospital again: ointment for allergy, and only soap and water to clean the cut.

I always knew I was strong, but I was aware that this strength should have a limit. This week I discovered that limit, in the most painful way possible. There is nothing worse than seeing someone you love suffering. Especially when this person is helpless and not aware of what is happening. And even harder is that you must remain strong, because if you weaken, your kid becomes even more helpless.

And yet concerning being strong, this week I learned that if something happens to you, it means you will be able to manage and bear it, because the universe is fair: you never get a load heavier than what you can carry. 

#singlemotherlife

#singleworkingmoms

#singleprofesionalmother

#powerwomen

#supportivewomen

#getsupport

#singlemotherincorporateworld

#sickchild