Keeping things in perspective





Steve Martaindale is a self-syndicated columnist. Write him at penmanmailsteve@ yahoo.com.

Steve Martaindale is a self-syndicated columnist. Write him at penmanmailsteve@ yahoo.com.

In the grand scheme of things, we know that our experience the night of July Fourth was a mere blip, but to three couples and one little boy, it was four hours of drama we did not care to endure.

Our grandson, just shy of 2 years old now, had been sick for a couple of days and running a fever, probably related to the fact he had spent a few days in day care for the first time.

He and his parents were at our house for grilled steaks on Independence Day, but Charles wasn’t interested in any of his usual activities. Instead, he took turns cuddled in loving arms, mostly his Momma and Grandma, with a damp cloth cooling his head.

We checked online medical sites for the reassuring message that fever is the body’s way of combating bad guys. Zack, our son-inlaw, checked in with his mother, a registered nurse. I even teased Leah when she called her mother.

“You’re the grandmother now. You are the final authority.”

“Not …” she quickly replied, “when there’s a great-grandmother around.”

Charles’ temperature was getting higher as the evening went on and his parents decided to take him home where he would be more comfortable.

Zack had just buckled Charles into his seat in the back of the car and shut the door, when he yelled, “Oh, no,” and scrambled to pull his son out of the seat. Erin, standing on the other side of the car, was yelling, “What’s wrong?”

Charles had gone into a seizure.

I had been standing on the front porch and ran inside to grab our cell phones. Zack, Erin and Grandma were fussing over the boy when I returned. Leah told me later that she wasn’t really scared until she looked into his face and his eyes rolled to the top.

Zack was talking to him, perhaps yelling, and finally we saw some reaction. All four adults were individually weighing the options. It’s at least a 20-minute drive to the hospital, but the local ambulance service has a station about three miles away.

OK, driving him in would get him there quicker, but the ambulance crew could prove invaluable if things got worse. Plus, we all know that arriving via ambulance is pretty much a golden ticket to getting medical attention in the emergency room.

Leah talked to the 9-1-1 operator while I drove up to the highway to flag down the ambulance and guide them in. Mom and Dad kept a close eye on the boy and updated the other grandparents.

Charles was amazingly cooperative as the paramedic tried to insert an IV to start flowing some liquids into his little body. They finally decided to start toward the city with Dad in the back and Mom in the cab of the ambulance. Leah and I followed in their vehicle and ours.

By the time we closed up the house, got to the hospital, found a parking space and worked our way to the examining room, the doctor had done his thing, Charles was getting fluids and medicine and everything was settling down.

Charles looked up and whimpered a heartbreaking, “Ma-ma,” as close as he normally gets to Grandma.

Before long, his other grandparents arrived and we all waited around until he was released sometime after 1 a.m.

The doctor calmed our silent fears when he explained that Charles suffered a febrile seizure, not uncommon to children his age when running a fever. He said it is not indicative of any other problems and no great cause for concern.

Within a couple of days, our grandson was back to being a normal toddler, spreading laughter and joy and helping paint the carport.

And we each held those moments a little more dearly.

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