in·tu·i·tion
noun
the ability to understand something immediately, without the need for conscious reasoning.
** The above definition is as per the Oxford Dictionary **
There is a fine line between a "worried" mother, and an "intuitive" mother. Both completely circumstantial. For example - Stella had a nasty cough a while ago, and I was worried it was a throat infection. I held off taking her to the doctor for a day or two to see if it would clear itself up, and thankfully it did. My worry was gone. But with Emmett, by day 7 of symptoms, my intuition started to talk to me. It wasn't screaming at me yet, but loud enough that I was forced to listen.
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Housekeeping note: Day 1 = the onset of symptoms.
Getting home from Alberta was a refreshing feeling. Being away for so long, especially unanticipated, eventually leaves you feeling displaced. Not that we weren't so incredibly grateful for my cousin and his wife, Chris and Penny, for taking us in and giving us a home last minute. But being back in our own home among our own "things", was a welcome change after the two weeks we had. And if I'm being honest, Emmett probably would have moved in with his cousin Camden - and I quote "his gaming computer is sick, Mom".
The ride home from the airport on December 2nd (Day 1), was rough. Emmett vomited three times, always without warning. No nausea. It took us over four hours to get home. I pulled over on the side of Route 19 twice, eventually just leaving his pants in someones garbage bin because they were so drenched in vomit. He had a quick shower, then we both went straight to bed, and woke up feeling great after a much needed sleep in our own beds.
I got up the next morning, on Day 2, and Jared and Chad were already outside preparing for a liner of cattle to arrive from Alberta within the next few days. I was frying bacon, the girls were playing in the living room, and all of a sudden Emmett bolts up the stairs toward the sink. He got half way between the stairs and the sink before the vomit came out. Thankfully he hadn't eaten breakfast yet. He was heaving and retching in the sink, and when Rowan came into the kitchen, she started to cry. She walked over to him, put her head into his arm, and started to rub his back. Between his heaving, he was holding her shoulder saying "I'm okay Row". Even in a moment of weakness, his focus was on comforting Rowan's sadness, and putting his own feelings aside. A testament to Emmett's character. The next two days would consist of Emmett being outside helping Jared and Chad prepare for the cattle to arrive, going to school, building his fort, playing video games - all the things an 8 year old boy loves to do, with the exception of the occasional unanticipated vomit.
On Day 4, December 5th, a very large, double decker liner showed up on Route 19 with some beautiful Black Angus heifers. Tensions were high, as we watched the liner try to back into the driveway numerous times, but continuously get stuck in one muddy wet patch. However, thanks to the expertise of the one and only Billy MacDonell, the driver made it up, and backed into place behind the loading chute. Tension quickly turned to excitement, which was a sentiment shared by many people in Judique and surrounding areas, as they drove up the driveway to get a glimpse of the girls coming off the truck. A small example as to who the people of this village are, and how they would go out of their way to support us in the months to come.
The heifers came off the truck beautifully. As they walked down the alleyway and turned the corner toward the green, lush grass, they noticeably picked up the pace. Jared and I looked at each other at the same time, both with tears in our eyes, as we saw our dream coming to life. I felt a sense of pride - this was a major milestone in what he had set out to accomplish when we made the decision to move. All the sweat, blood and tears that went into this dream, to date, were paying off. All the hard times that led to feelings of doubt were gone. We did it, and this milestone was a driving force that pushed us to want more. It motivated us to dig deep, and was proof that our dream can and will be achieved.
" Agriculture is the most healthful, most useful and most noble employment of man"
Once the heifers arrived, life on the farm started to settle for the upcoming season. The animals were peacefully grazing, and routine was slowly coming back after our Alberta adventure. The routine was relatively familiar, with the exception of Emmett still vomiting anywhere from two to eight times a day. On Day 5, Emmett vomited four times before noon. I called the surgeon in Calgary to discuss what was happening, and he informed me that it is normal for children to experience nausea and vomiting for upwards of two weeks post surgery. That, along with the fact that blood sat in his stomach for so long, could be the cause. At this point we were two days shy of two weeks, and he asked that we give it 48 hours to see if symptoms lessen. So that's what we did.
Two days later on Day 7, December 8th, Emmett was so lethargic that he couldn't get up to walk to the bathroom to vomit. I took him to the ER at St. Martha's in Antigonish for the first time that day. By the third vomit in the waiting room, they took us back to a room and the Doctor came in shortly after. I told his story for what would be the first of so many times that I have since lost count. At the end of the story, I felt it relevant to point out that Emmett was no longer feeling nauseous before vomiting, and that it was coming without warning. With a puzzled look on her face, the doctor ordered bloodwork and an xray to begin with.
The pediatrician on-call was paged, and she came in to do an assessment of Emmett. I explained his story for the second time that day, and after the initial bloodwork came back, it was determined that he was very dehydrated, and his x ray showed that he was quite backed up with stool. They started IV fluids immediately, and admitted him for observation. When we got to the Pediatric unit, we were taken into room 27, which unbeknownst to us at the time, would become "Emmett's Room".
The next morning, Day 8, the same doctor came in to see how the night went. We told her that there was nothing out of the ordinary, just the usual vomiting. The doctor was staring at him and thinking out loud. She said "he's still nauseated then". To which I replied "No, not nauseous. Just vomiting".
Given the events of the previous 3 weeks, it was "safe to assume" that the post tonsillectomy issues were the source of his vomiting. Like in every day life, when we encounter a problem, we look at the variables surrounding the problem that have changed. Before surgery, Emmett was perfectly healthy and showing absolutely no signs of nausea or vomiting. The only change was the tonsillectomy and the post operative hemorrhage. Up until that point, there was not one other symptom that would lead us to believe that his issue could be related to anything different - the focus was something Gastrointestinal. So, they ran with it. The only changed variable.
Because the vomiting wasn't subsiding, they kept him admitted over the next couple of days to treat his symptoms. Jared came to the hospital to relieve me on day 9, December 10th, and I went home with the girls so that we could attend my Mothers 60th birthday party (more on the infamous Patsy Landry in future chapters). Leaving Emmett at the hospital that day, I felt like there was an elephant standing on my chest. My heart was beating so hard I could feel the throbbing on the surface of every part of my skin. I had no idea what this feeling was or why it was happening. I drove away short of breath, and had to pull over half way home because I was crying so hard I couldn't see. I don't know how long I was on the side of the road for, but I stayed for as long as it took for my heart to lower even the slightest. I pulled myself together, and continued on with my drive. It would take me eight months to learn exactly what that feeling was.
The party was a great distraction - awesome food, music and company. Not having Jared and Emmett there with us made the night feel a little incomplete for me, but we celebrated our Mama the way she deserved, and made the best of it. After the party, we went back to Louisdale and I enjoyed a sleep in an actual bed, cuddled up with my girls.
The next morning, Day 10, I was up and out the door by 6:00am. I went home, let the dogs out, and started to make my way back to the hospital. At 7:15am I called Jared, when I asked how Emmett's night was he said "not good. He developed abdominal pain. The doctor is consulting with the IWK in Halifax". I made it from Judique to St. Martha's hospital in roughly 35 minutes (typically a 50-55 minute drive). I walked into "our room", room 27, and saw Jared sitting on the chair and leaning over Emmett's bed. He had his hand pushed on the part of Emmett's stomach where the pain was, because the pressure relieved the pain. Emmett was sleeping. The doctor came in shortly after, and explained that they've done all they can think of to help Emmett, and now he needs to be seen by a team of doctors at the IWK Children's Hospital in Halifax. After a 10 minute cry in the hallway, I went back into the room, packed up our stuff and prepared for the ambulance to arrive. Emmett was kept quite sedated in an effort to keep the pain away, so we decided that I would drive my truck behind the ambulance, and Jared would go home with the girls until we settled at the IWK.
The entire way to Halifax wreaked havoc on my mind. I had absolutely no way to prove it and no way to validate it, but my intuition told me this was something more than a side effect of the last 4 weeks. I felt it so deeply that I started to think of symptoms I could elaborate on in an effort for someone to look in a different direction. But the reality was, that there was nothing to elaborate on. The one and only symptom Emmett had was being investigated, and I had to be comfortable with that. But I wasn't, and I didn't know how to explain why I wasn't. And unfortunately, a "Mother's intuition" isn't a good enough reason to justify further testing.
The last time I was at the IWK was when my sister gave birth to my niece, Olivia. That was 13 years ago, and I was not at all familiar with the area, let alone the layout of the hospital. They took Emmett in through Emergency, and I had to go park and find my way to "PMU" on the seveth floor. Between leaving him at emergency and finding him again, 45 minutes had elapsed. By minute 30, that elephant was back and doing sommersaults on my chest. I cried my way through the hospital trying to find him, and that drew in the attention of a lovely nurse. She hugged me before asking what was wrong - she knew the drill. I told her where I needed to be, and she walked me the whole way there. I asked her where in the hospital she worked, and she replied "SixLink". I didn't know what that meant at the time, and truthfully I didn't have the concentration to ask - I just wanted to be with Emmett.
By the time I got up to his room, he was settled into his bed, still a bit groggy from the pain medication, but content otherwise. Within the hour, a team of doctors, residents and students assembled around his bed. I explained his story for the third time in two days, and watched all the "oh my God" on their faces as each detail came out. They brain stormed and came up with plan number one - bloodwork, x ray and a suppository. At this point, their main focus was getting his bowels moving. When I asked if constipation could cause vomiting of this magnitude, the response was "oh absolutely". Okay - lets do this then.
This day, day 10, was the first day that I saw Emmett show any kind of hesitation toward bloodwork. He was growing intolerant of it, and rightfully so. It took us a bit to calm him down enough to get it done, but he did it. Then came the xray. The doctor came in after reviewing the x ray, and told us that he was very clearly backed up, but wouldn't go as far as to say he was "impacted". Even with that information, getting the stool out was the priority. This moment would be first time I brought up an MRI or CT Scan, wondering if maybe it would be beneficial to give him a look from head to toe, as a way to eliminate any other potential causes that we may not be seeing. I was met with "I don't think we're quite there yet".
The nurse came in with the first suppository. Didn't work. Some time later, came in with the second. Didn't work. Then the third... you get the idea. Then came plan number two. Let's try a fleet enema. I don't know how many of you reading this have been subjected to a fleet enema, but I can tell you with utmost confidence, that they're awful. Knowing what he was about to experience almost dropped me to my knees, but it had to be done.
It was as brutal as you think it was. The first one brought a small amount out, and the second one even less than the first. When they started talking about doing a third, I politely requested that we give him a break for the night and revisit in the morning. The nurse was more than happy to go with that plan.
I washed him, ordered some food and made my third hospital bed in 4 weeks. At this point his vomiting was routine, unpredictable, but routine. I tucked him in, and after the day he had, he fell asleep immediately. Me, not so much. That night I listened to a call over the hospital speaker for "full trauma team" to emergency for an inbound helicopter. Roughly thirty minutes later, I could hear the sound of the rotors in the distance. Trying to imagine the reason for those children being flown to the hospital brought back memories that suddenly made the elephant re-appear on my chest. I did my best to push it aside, and fell asleep.
The next morning, day 11, a nurse came in and told us that because all Emmett's tests have come back negative for anything contagious, they would be moving us to a floor called "SixLink". It was a welcomed move, since we were on a floor surrounded by RSV and other contagious viruses. We got to the sixth floor, and as the elevator doors opened, there was a sign that said "Oncology/Hemotology/Dialysis". My heart sunk. I got chills from head to toe, which only intensified as we started walking to our room, and I saw children walking the halls with tubes coming out of their chests, and bald heads. So many bald heads. We got to our room and settled in. I remember the exact moment that I looked at him a few minutes after arriving and thought "thank God that isn't one of my kids".
Our nurse came in and took Emmett's vitals, and explained to us that the doctor was looking at giving him a PPN (Peripheral Parenteral Nutrition) within the next 48 hours if there was no change in his vomiting. The worry being, Emmett's body wasb't able to absorb enough nutrients to sustain him, so he needed some help. In an effort to try and stop the vomiting, they started to give him Ondansetron, a.k.a Zofran, which is what they give to cancer patients to prevent any nausea. I told them, for what must have been the 10th time in two days, that he wasn't nauseous. But we were going to give it a go anyway.
That night, a General Surgeon came in to give Emmett a bedside ultrasound and see if his large intestine was impacted with
stool, and if it was, Emmett could be taken into the OR for a disimpaction. But, he wasn't impacted. He was backed up, but definitely not impacted. That theory was eliminated, and it was on to the next.
The next day was day 12, December 13th. This was the first day that we met with the Gastroenterologist. Since we eliminated anything lower intestinal, it was time to look at the stomach and up. Again, I explained the story. The GI Doctor wanted to start with an upper GI, that would be booked for the next day. We were standing in the room with the whole team that day, and Jared said "I understand that there is a cost impact with certain tests, but wouldn't it make sense to give him a CT Scan or MRI? Start big and then go from there?". It was explained to us that since Emmett's only symptom is vomiting, there is not enough evidence to justify a CT Scan or MRI. Not exactly the response we wanted, but unfortunately one we had to accept for the time being.
On day 13, we walked down to x-ray for his Upper GI, which involved drinking barium and checking for blockages, blood in the lower intestine, etc. An hour later, the Gastroenterologist came back in and told us that the x-ray was completely clear. We were deflated, and it was back to the drawing board.
Emmett's bloodwork came back, and it was lacking in pretty much everything. His body wasn't getting enough nutrients, and he needed a PPN with a side of "fat". For the most part, the days following became routine. Bloodwork became more and more intolerable with each poke, and we began having to restrain him each time. The vomiting would subside for a day, then pick up the next. Waffles, pancakes and nuggets became a staple, with a side of liquid nutrition through his IV. A teacher came in to do school work with him for an hour a day, and we spent our time watching movies, playing board games, playing video games on the jolly trolley and doing scavenger hunts around the unit. This encompassed days 14 to 18 - immensely repetitive, and even more frustrating.
Fun fact: I took this picture on one of our walks and sent it to a friend of mine saying "I couldn't imagine..."
One of the many ironic moments we would experience.
By the end of day 18, we had an "assumed diagnosis" through process of elimination - Emmett had Gastroparesis, which is when the stomach experiences a delay in emptying. No cure, but to treat the issue he would need a complete diet change. Healthy eating, no processed foods, low fat and limited sugar. In other words, torture for an 8 year old.
By the beginning of day 19, Emmett had gone a full 24 hours without vomiting. The GI doctor came in and was incredibly happy with how he was progressing. He informed us that if the next 24 hours were as good as the last 24, we could go home. By this time it was December 20th, and we had been in the hospital for 11 days. Emmett's mental health was declining, and he wanted to go home, so hearing this news was music to his ears. For me, the idea of being home for Christmas with my whole family made me so incredibly happy, but my intuition was breathing down my neck and I felt every bit of it.
Day 20, December 21st, we were released from the hospital. Emmett had only thrown up twice the day before, so the doctor was comfortable that we were on the right track to treating Emmett the way he needed.
We left the hospital, went to Costco and got the last of the Christmas gifts that I needed (thank God for online shopping), went to East Side Marios for supper then headed home.
When we got home, our whole house was decorated for Christmas, thanks to my mom, dad and sister. My heart was so full - all my family under one roof, and hopefully on the road to restored health for Emmett.
We had an amazing Christmas. Days and nights spent with family and friends, making memories in our new home. Emmett would go full days without vomiting, and some days would be sick anywhere from 2-7 times. It became quite unpredictible, but you would never find him without his bag. Before leaving the house, you would always hear at least one person yell out "Emmett do you have your bag?", or hear Emmett say "Where's my bag?". It was like a third arm for him. Every vehicle that he would drive in would have at least 3 bags in it, and guaranteed you would find one in someones purse.
As we entered the new year, Emmett was playing hockey and went back to school. Funnily enough, he never vomited doing either of those things. There were days in between that were rough, but it never stopped him from wanting to go out and be a kid. Seeing him be himself in spite of the vomiting gave us hope that maybe the Gastroparesis diagnosis was the right one, and we just needed to fine tune his diet to get it under control.
On day 32, January 2nd, he had a bad day. He had thrown up 12 times, and was immensely dehydrated. I was at a loss for what to do to help him, so we went to the Emergency room in Antigonish, even though we had an appointment booked with our family doctor for the next day, January 3rd. The doctor in emergency hooked him up to some fluids and sat and talked with us about next steps. He mentioned that since we had an appointment booked for the next day anyway, that we would be better off booking further testing through that clinic. He gave us other ideas as to what could be causing the vomiting, and I quote "...even something more severe such as brain tumours". I remember thinking to myself "that's a stretch". We left the hospital after he got topped up with some fluids and made our way home. The appointment the next day with our family doctor was promising. He told us to give it another two weeks of the diet change, and we'll see how he did. If no improvement, we'll move on to further testing.
Between days 33 and 38, he lived a relatively normal life. School, hockey, repeat. The vomiting didn't get as bad again since it had on day 32, which seemed like steps forward. I really cracked down on his/our new diet. My sister and I went grocery shopping and I spent over $700 on food and a new blender to make smoothies for him, as recommended by a dietician. I was excited to have this become our new normal - it was beneficial for all of us, not just Emmett.
Then came day 39, January 9th. Emmett vomited 29 times. By the end of the day his throat was so raw that it was just tissue and blood coming up. That was the end of the line for me. I got the girls to bed, got Emmett settled and started packing a suit case. Jared had been gone to an agriculture meeting in Whycocomagh, and when he got home the kitchen floor was full of suit cases and clothes. He could tell what my plan was by the look on my face - I was going to the hospital and not leaving until someone could tell me exactly what was wrong with him. We decided to let him sleep, and we would leave first thing in the morning. I had all our bags packed by the door and our clothes ready to change into in the morning. I went to bed at 1:00am and was up at 4:30am. Jared put our bags in the truck, lifted Emmett into his seat because he was too weak to walk, and Emmett and I drove in a blinding snow storm to the hospital in Antigonish.
That morning, my intuition told me to kiss the girls an extra time on the lips and hug Jared a little longer. I wish I would have taken one more drive through the cows and ridden my horse one more time, because I was about to be robbed of what was normal to me, and thrown into a world completely unknown. My intuition knew it all along, and this time it wouldn't be ignored.
Up Next - Chapter 4: Tumour
God love you all. 🩷🩷