Trip to Mt. Lemmon near Tucson, AZ on July 7, 2012

The Fun Part:

     On Saturdays, the company I work for closes its doors at 2 p.m. When I arrived home after working on this particular Saturday, I mentioned to my wife that we should take a trip to the mountain, since we recently bought a 7 passenger Dodge Caravan. My thoughts are that we will plan it tonight and go up on Sunday. My wife springs into action quickly planning out a meal for our arrival near the top of the mountain. I am lying in bed looking at my Algebra homework on my laptop and do not realize until a bit later that she means for us to go today.

More information on my wife and me:

     I do not believe that I have mentioned the fact that my wife and I attend college online. We started out in February of 2011 attending the “University of Phoenix” then, after witnessing sub-standard students and participation my wife began to research other colleges. She had previously heard from a friend of hers that Walden University was a better school to attend online. The reviews illustrated the same, and we switched over in February of 2012. Walden University offers a wider variety of courses and concentrations for my wife’s field of interest, so this too was a deciding factor to switch. My area of concentration is “Information Systems – Computer Programming” and hers is “Psychology - Criminal Justice”. We are extremely busy people, and there is never a dull moment in our lives.

Back to the Story (the Fun Part):

     My daughter is called into our bedroom by my wife where they continue the planning of this mountain trip and I notice that they are discussing ordering take-out pizza over the phone.

     I say, “I thought we would go up tomorrow.”

     My wife replies, “I would rather go up today.”

     Let’s face it, she is the boss, and her choice to go up tonight is the better one because of things we need to accomplish on Sunday, and the news reports a high chance of rain on Sunday as well.

     I put down my computer and begin to dress myself in appropriate clothing for the mountain. I had already slipped into my comfortable home attire thinking the day would play out remaining at home. These are the type of clothing you wear solely around the privacy of your own home when you are trying to relax in comfort. You know the type with holes here and there, logos faded and seams coming apart? Hopefully we are not the only ones with this special clothing (I doubt we are), but anyway it was time to switch gears and get ready to go for a drive.

     It is already in the afternoon and the sun up on the mountain doesn’t shine as late as it does in town because of the trees and hilly terrain. We know we need to get going soon, and assembling our small army has become more and more efficient with each passing week that we have cared for the three extra children.

     I am off to get the pizza with my 6 year old son and 17 year old daughter in our new van (new to us anyway, as it is a 2005). As we are leaving the house, my 20 year old son pulls up to get his paycheck. The reason his paycheck is at my house is another story all together, so for now I will keep it at: he and my daughter both work for me at Arizona Party Rental. I tell him I am going to the store, yes I said the store in my hurry to get going, and tell him where his check is before leaving.

     The three of us arrive at Pizza Hut and the pizzas are ready, but I receive a call from my wife while paying for them and she asks me to buy a fifth pizza to take with us because my son is now going on the trip. I know that five pizzas is a lot of food, but when we buy pizza, we buy enough to have some the next day. It tastes so good the after all the flavors have time to marinate. Not to mention the fact that my 20 year old son will eat an entire pizza if you let him.

     I order the fifth pizza and we wait for it to be ready. Fifteen minutes later, we are out the door and headed home. When we arrive back at home, everyone that is not already in the van is either brought out to climb inside. My wife returns to the house after placing my 6 month old daughter in the van. She often does this before leaving the house because it is the only time she can focus on what we may be forgetting (Quiet). She is very into the organization of things to make life easier in our hectic life. You should see the kit she put together that remains in the van. I will share this with everyone at another time as it is good information to have available. Satisfied, she comes out of the house, climbs into the van and we are in route to the mountain, that is after one final stop at a Circle K for drinks then everyone is ready to go.

     One hour later, and close to the top of the mountain, we turn on a side road of grated dirt away from the normal picnic areas off of the main road leading up the mountain. It is hard to get away from other families up here because Tucson has grown so large, but we do our best. We reach the end of the road where one car sits in a spot off to the west of the spot we have chosen. To our liking we never see or hear the owner of it.

     I pull alongside of our chosen picnic site. After coming to a stop, a blanket is quickly spread out on the ground. It is held down with the pizzas we purchased in Tucson because a cool breeze is softly blowing through the dense pine trees. Wind passing through the leaves of trees often sounds like a river and it soothes the soul just to be there listening to its sound. The 6 and 2 year old children are given plates of pizza after they sit down on the blanket... much to their delight. As they eat they take in their surroundings with wonder, making plans to explore when they finish the meal. Everyone else indulges in the feast, and pictures begin to be taken by my wife and myself. We each have our own camera, and this eliminates one of us from being excluded in the memories.

     The baby has fallen asleep during the ride and wakes as we are eating. She is in the van in her car seat. We have left the side door open as well as the back hatch door, so the wind blows through the van keeping it cool as we watch and listen from 20’ away. I get her out of the car seat and place her in her “Bumbo” chair leaving it in the van looking out the side door. These chairs are the best purchase you can make for a baby. The other children finish their meals and recruit my older son and daughter to help them explore. They walk all over the mountainside looking at the view of far off places and keeping an eye peeled for wildlife. My wife and I relax here for a bit then decide to continue driving to the top of the mountain to get ice cream from one of the shops there.

     When we arrive at the top, the shop has just closed its doors for the night, so we decide to go back to Tucson and get ice cream from “Cold Stone Creamery” on the way home.

When things went wrong:

     It is another hour’s drive to the ice cream shop and when we arrive I mention that my wife, older son and daughter should go inside while I wait in the van with the kids. During the wait, my 2 year old daughter vomits in the back of the van all over herself, her car seat, the seat belt, and the van’s bench seat. She has never gotten car sick before, and I chalk it up to this after I clean her up. It is in her hair, fingers, clothing, and on her face. She does not look like she feels well and when I ask her if she is okay she says, “Yes”.

     The rest of the family comes out with ice cream, and we head home as I tell my wife of the incident with the two year old. Ten minutes later, when we arrive home and everyone is inside I pick up the 2 year old to place her in her high chair for ice cream and notice that she is extremely hot to the touch. I tell my wife and she takes the child’s temperature by mouth as she sits in the high chair. When it reaches 104 degrees she takes it out and yells the information to me. I am already in my room getting ready to go to the emergency room, as I hear the news.

     There is a history of my two year old daughter having febrile seizures prior to being placed in our home, but we have never had the experience of witnessing her during one of these.

     I quickly get her into my work truck after my wife administers children’s Tylenol and rush to the emergency room. My wife stays behind to watch my young son and baby daughter at home to avoid exposing them to other illnesses. The E.R. is only 7 minutes from our home, but the poor child begins to seize in her car seat as I make the first turn onto a main street out of our neighborhood. They are small seizures (what I call petit mal from my training in the past as an EMT), and I watch while trying to remain calm for the child. I begin to speak to her to obtain focus and I can see when she is going to have another seizure because of the look in her eyes and slow slurring speech as she tries to answer my questions. The truck’s AC is cranked up to its maximum coldness and force of the fan as I pray the jerking movements of her body do not get worse. If so, I will be stopping to lay her down on the seat. She has three of these seizures on the drive to the E.R. Her entire body convulses with each one a single time and then she is back looking at me. I can see the fear in her eyes as she stares back into mine. I attempt to emit strength for her in a look of confidence. She knows something is happening, but she is a strong-willed little thing, so I know if I can speak normally and act like things are alright she will make it through without having a meltdown before we arrive at the hospital. At least I hoped that events would occur as I have planned them in my head. After three of the seizures she has no more. Perhaps the medicine has kicked in and with help from the freezing AC she has been spared another.

     I quickly pull my truck into the parking lot of the Emergency room, and walk briskly carrying her to the front desk. To my surprise, when I tell the attendant that my daughter has a fever over 104 degrees and was having petit mal seizures in my truck on the way to the E.R. I am told to fill out the form and take a seat. If I were of a violent nature, I believe the glass separating me from this person would have been shattered as I struggled to wring her uncaring and inappropriate neck. I won’t say that the thought isn’t good. I do as asked, thinking that if something worse happens (grand mal seizure) at least I am at the hospital.

     I have had experience with Grand Mal seizures with my younger brother. I believe I was 14 or 15 years old when he began to have them occasionally and I have held him in my arms as his entire body convulsed violently with such force that it could knock me over and put holes in walls. At the end of these seizures his tongue would be chewed badly and bleeding. He would look up at you with wondering eyes as if asking what had just transpired. There is a deep helplessness inside me as I witness the unnatural movement of his body while holding him loosely to keep him from hitting objects that will harm him further. I can only imagine the feeling of an individual that suffers from these attacks of the brain after regaining control.

     I think I need to share this institution's name and gladly do so here because this is horrible patient care right at the beginning of the visit. If you have become so emotionally cut off from the experience of your job then it is time to find another. St. Joseph’s Hospital in Tucson, Arizona, has disappointed my family on more than this one occasion in their E.R. and needs to look at their staff and policies then make some changes. The discouragement of this visit is not over yet.

     Thankfully it is a short 5 minutes that I wait, until we are called back to the triage room. Someone with half a brain must have looked at the information I provided on their insignificant form. The proper manner by which this issue should have been addressed is to pull us in to the triage room immediately after hearing the problem. Then, at least, the poor child would be in trained, helpful hands while I fill out the useless form. This form only asks the patient's name and the reason they are at the E.R. To my understanding, temperatures of 105 degrees begin to kill brain cells. I will get back to the story now and save the rant on healthcare, and broken oaths of some of the doctors in the United States for a bit later.

     Her fever is down to 102.5 degrees in the triage room due to the medication given at home, most likely. We are escorted to a room where I lay my 2 year old daughter on the bed, sit next to her, and begin to play a movie for her on my Motorola XOOM. She smiles as “Despicable Me” begins to play and I sigh with a bit of the first relief I have felt since the seizures began.

End of Part I