I had about the worst six-hour stretch of my life today. We had to rush my 5 1/2-year-old daughter to the Williamson County Emergency Room with a fever and seizures, and by the time we got her there she was unconscious. About an hour and a half later, they transported her to Vanderbilt Children's Hospital in an ambulance, which is also pretty unnerving.
You can imagine the thoughts that run through my head as he sees a room full of 8-9 doctors and nurses scrambling around his daughter's still body, attaching tubes here and there, and God-knows-what-else, and seeing my wife--a nurse practitioner--in tears in an absolute panic. The worst sort of thoughts cross your mind, and all I could think to do was to reach out to a few good friends by phone, and send out something on Facebook, and request all the prayers I could get.
I don't know if it was a miracle or what it was, but I do know that when we walked in my daughter's hospital room at Vanderbilt Children's Hospital tonight, after not being able to see her for probably an hour or an hour and a half, she immediately saw us and said in a pained, tired voice, "I want my mommy." Those were the best words I've ever heard.
We don't know what caused any of this. Isabella had never had seizures or health problems before. Every scan and test has come back completely clean. Doctors tell us there's a decent chance it's a one-off issue that never comes back.
Please continue to keep us in our prayers as we find answers. We're probably looking at a couple of nights holed up on the fifth floor as they continue to monitor, an outcome I'll take a million times out of a million after what we've been through.
I know a lot of you texted me, messaged me through Twitter, and most importantly, prayed for us. I could feel the strength of those prayers today, and though I don't have the time to thank a lot of you individually, your cares and your friendship were appreciated as much as ever today. Thank you, from the bottom of my heart, and God bless you all. Please keep us in our prayers as we seek answers, and I hope I'll be back to podcasting and writing very soon.
You can imagine the thoughts that run through my head as he sees a room full of 8-9 doctors and nurses scrambling around his daughter's still body, attaching tubes here and there, and God-knows-what-else, and seeing my wife--a nurse practitioner--in tears in an absolute panic. The worst sort of thoughts cross your mind, and all I could think to do was to reach out to a few good friends by phone, and send out something on Facebook, and request all the prayers I could get.
I don't know if it was a miracle or what it was, but I do know that when we walked in my daughter's hospital room at Vanderbilt Children's Hospital tonight, after not being able to see her for probably an hour or an hour and a half, she immediately saw us and said in a pained, tired voice, "I want my mommy." Those were the best words I've ever heard.
We don't know what caused any of this. Isabella had never had seizures or health problems before. Every scan and test has come back completely clean. Doctors tell us there's a decent chance it's a one-off issue that never comes back.
Please continue to keep us in our prayers as we find answers. We're probably looking at a couple of nights holed up on the fifth floor as they continue to monitor, an outcome I'll take a million times out of a million after what we've been through.
I know a lot of you texted me, messaged me through Twitter, and most importantly, prayed for us. I could feel the strength of those prayers today, and though I don't have the time to thank a lot of you individually, your cares and your friendship were appreciated as much as ever today. Thank you, from the bottom of my heart, and God bless you all. Please keep us in our prayers as we seek answers, and I hope I'll be back to podcasting and writing very soon.
