Our Miracle

I’ve always enjoyed writing. I wish I could prioritize things better in my life so that I could do more writing (and reading, for that matter). I’ve started countless journals that always end up abandoned after a few weeks. Even my blog has become more of a photo album than a place to write, and I haven’t updated it in months.

After Quinn’s choking incident, I knew I eventually wanted to write about it. Writing and talking about things really helps me to process them. It helps me become less afraid of the scary things that happen in life. It also helps me find the good in bad situations. I don’t really care to have a record of the terrifying incident, but I do care to remember all of the ways God worked in the situation.

The “Incident”

At 12:15 on Saturday, January 30, 2016, our little family was sitting down eating lunch together. I was sitting next to Quinn, and hubby was sitting across from me. I had made soup in the crockpot and we each had a bowl. Hubby and I had salad, and Quinn was eating grapes.

Grapes. Whole grapes. He’s been eating them for probably a year without any problem. I used to cut them in half. I probably even Googled to find out at what age it’s ok to give your kid whole grapes (the AAP actually recommends age 4--I just Googled it again—so I guess I jumped the gun a bit since he just turned four in November).

Suddenly, Quinn started coughing, crying, and sticking his fingers in his mouth. I’d seen him do this twice before in the week or so prior. I had to encourage him to keep coughing, and he eventually coughed the food up after a few seconds. I thought it was just a fluke thing then. But here he was now, trying to cough, trying to cry, and it wasn’t working. Because I had seen this before, I knew he was in trouble now. I told hubby to call 911. I grabbed Quinn and stood him on my chair and did the Heimlich maneuver several times. It didn’t work.

He was writhing around, making awful noises. The 911 dispatcher told me to give him back blows. I have life support training for my job, and I knew to do this for an infant, but it didn’t occur to me to do it for a child. I had him on the floor, over my knee, his head down, and hit him on the back several times.

It was about this time that the doorbell rang. We had a plumber scheduled to come that day, and he had called earlier to say he would be at our house in 15 minutes. Now here he was. I heard hubby saying, “My son is having a medical emergency, and I’m on the phone with 911.” I remember the plumber stepping inside and standing there, probably wondering what to do. After a minute or so, he asks, “should I come back?” Yes, now is not the time for plumbing, unless you can unclog my son’s throat. I’m sure he had no idea what to do. I feel badly for him now. We did eventually try to call the company back a few weeks later, but they never returned our calls, so we got a different plumber. But I digress…

Looking back, I wish I had thought to have hubby do the Heimlich and back blows. He is stronger than I am, and I’m a mommy. Even though we were facing a life and death situation, I think I was afraid of hurting Quinn. Sounds crazy, but I think I wasn’t doing it hard enough.

Meanwhile, he turned blue. He was bleeding from the mouth (he bit his tongue in the process). He lost consciousness. I asked the dispatcher if I should do back blows again, and she said yes. When I did it, he started making noise again, this awful, low growling kind of cry that I never want to hear again. The dispatcher said, “Is that him? If he’s making noise, he’s getting air.” I said yes, but I knew he still wasn’t getting oxygen. All I could think of was the life support video that showed people having a medical emergency and “agonal breathing” which isn’t really breathing…they still need external air support.

I vacillated between hysteria and calmness. I had to keep telling myself to stay calm, that Quinn needed me to be calm in order to be able to help him.

First Responders Arrive

Hubby had to go out into our driveway to flag down the emergency vehicles. For some reason, the house numbers are out of order on our street, and the vehicles stopped in the middle of the road, wondering where our house was. They saw him and sped up our driveway. The police officer was the first to arrive, followed closely by the fire department. The officer introduced himself to me, though I can’t remember his name (I later found out it was Steve Dotson). I stressed because he wasn’t an EMT and I knew he wasn’t going to help. I think he may have said as much in a polite way. But it was ok, because the EMT’s were right behind him. However, they also seemed to be at a loss for what to do, so I didn’t have any warm fuzzies about the situation. I later learned that there wasn’t much they could do (that we hadn’t already done) until he was unconscious, because his jaw was clenched shut. Hubby told me later that he felt that everything was going to be ok once the emergency personnel arrived, but I remember thinking to myself, “Quinn could die,” though I didn’t or wouldn’t let myself believe that.

The female from the fire department (her name is Sarah) took Quinn from me and I remember her holding him on his back, and she was looking up at the other fire department guy (whom I have no recollection of whatsoever), and I’m thinking “please do something!!” Quinn then lost consciousness again.

At that point, God brought something to my mind that helped me stay grounded in Him. I had listened to a podcast the night before about a pastor and his wife who had a child that had grand mal seizures on a daily basis from the time she was a baby. Doctors couldn’t figure out how to stop them, and the parents were at the end of their rope and didn’t know what to do. When the girl was 6 or 7 years old, one of the parents cried out to God, “She’s yours. I don’t know what else to do. I give her to you now.” I got up and went over to hubby and prayed something similar for Quinn.

And then David, an EMT came. He was big and burly, and he asked questions. Here was something I could do to help Quinn! I could answer his questions. They were simple questions like how old he was, and if he had any allergies. It took my mind off what was going on with my son and gave me something to do to help him. It sounds silly, but I felt helpful answering those questions, because up to that point nothing I had done had helped Quinn. And someone was taking charge!

After the questions, I knew we were going to the hospital, and I realized I really had to go to the bathroom, so I ran downstairs as fast as I could to do that and also put on some shoes (since I also realized I had slippers on) and grabbed my phone that was charging. I feel a little silly sharing that, because who would think of these things at a time like this?

On Our Way to the Hospital

Apparently one of the firefighters, who I later learned was named Chance, carried Quinn out to the ambulance. A neighbor told me that they were so worried because he was lifeless when they carried him out. They wouldn’t let me ride in the back of the ambulance, so I rode up front and hubby drove his car to the hospital. I remember asking the ambulance driver (Michael) where we were going, hoping he was going to say “Children’s” but I knew he was going to take us to the local hospital because it was only 5 minutes away, and Children’s was 25. My only concern was that Quinn is so young, and would they be able to treat a child as well as at a dedicated pediatric hospital? But I also knew time was of the essence, and off to the local hospital we went.

All of our new neighbors (we just moved into the house 2 months prior) were outside and trying to see what was going on. I remember this odd feeling as we were driving off, like I was in a very awful parade, with people lining the streets to watch. Hubby was blocked in by the emergency vehicles (there were 4 of them) so he had to wait to leave, and I think a neighbor came over to ask what was happening and he told them.

As we were leaving our neighborhood and pulling on to the main road, sirens blaring and lights flashing, a car didn’t stop to let us out. I know he just didn’t see us, as there is a hill to get out of our neighborhood, but it still made me feel good that Michael laid on the horn. I learned later that officer Dotson followed the ambulance with lights and sirens all the way to the hospital. Apparently this is not standard protocol.

I was afraid to look in the back of the ambulance. I wasn’t even sure I could see anything, so I just didn’t look. I remember David asking a question through the window, but I don’t remember what the question was now. I didn’t know what to do, so I pulled out my phone and called a few people, probably scaring them to death, saying, “Quinn is choking, we’re on our way to the hospital, please pray and call everyone you know and tell them to pray.” I had to look in my log later to see who I had called because I couldn’t remember. I also sent a Facebook message because I knew that was the fastest way to reach a lot of people to pray.

At the First Hospital

We were at the hospital in 5 minutes. I found out later that from the time we called 911 to the time we arrived at the hospital was only 15 minutes. I’m so glad this happened at our new house and not at our apartment, because the apartment was 15 minutes away from the hospital.

When they opened the ambulance doors, they were breathing for Quinn with an ambu bag. Part of me freaked out because that meant he wasn’t breathing on his own (plus he was still unconscious), but part of me was glad because that meant they got the grape out. David told us that he got it out with suction. We asked him later when he got it out, and he said, “at the Sonic,” which is very close to the hospital. At first, he wasn’t even able to get Quinn’s mouth open because his jaw was clenched so tight, even though he was unconscious. He said he didn’t know “if we hit a bump or what,” but he was able to open Quinn’s mouth enough to get the suction in and dislodge the grape. His mouth wouldn’t open enough to take the grape out, but he was able to establish an airway and start breathing for him.

I think people from the hospital jumped on the ambulance, but I’m not sure about that. There was a woman from registration that came out to the ambulance and was asking me questions like Quinn’s name and birthdate. She asked if I wanted to go with her to complete the registration process or stay with Quinn, and of course I wanted to stay with Quinn.

They wheeled his gurney into the hospital and down a long hall, where I remember seeing an older woman on a gurney in the middle of the hallway, curled up in kind of a fetal position. I thought it was odd seeing her there, and I didn’t think of it then, but I wonder now if she got triaged out of a room so Quinn could have the room. I assume they radioed ahead to the hospital that we were coming, but I wonder who actually did that.

When we arrived at the room in the ER, there was an army of people in it. They told me I had to stay outside (probably because hysteria was winning at that point) but that was short lived because after a few seconds Quinn woke up. The nurse told me I could come in but I had to stay at the foot of his gurney, talk to him, and I had to remain calm. I turned off hysteria like a light switch.

Quinn was groggy, and was in and out of sleep. At first they told me to keep talking to him to keep him awake, but I guess after they realized the danger was over, they said he could sleep if he wanted to. The room cleared out quickly, and we were left with the nurse (whose name I can’t remember), Dave the respiratory therapist, and David the EMT. Quinn was on 10 liters of oxygen. They had trouble keeping a mask on his tiny little face, but if they kept it off, his oxygen saturation level would go down. They also had a gown that was too small for him. They had to cut off his beloved Curious George shirt, and he wet his pants at some point during the incident.

The doctor came in and said they wanted to do a chest x-ray and then transfer him to Children’s Hospital. They also checked his blood gasses. I don’t remember them telling us anything about those test results, though they probably did. I felt like going to Children’s was more of a precautionary measure, as at this point, I just thought, “hey, he’s good, he’s awake and he’s going to be fine.” He was sleepy, but I just attributed this to fatigue from the traumatic situation.

At the Second Hospital

Hubby and I drove to Children’s while Quinn rode in the same ambulance. David and Michael were still at the hospital, and David had even stayed in the room with us and helped the nurses. He also got me a bottle of water when he heard me asking hubby (who quickly went back home to get some things for Quinn) to bring me some water.

When we got to Children’s, we were seen in the ER by Dr. Whicker. Quinn was awake and alert (David said he slept in the ambulance on the way to Children’s) but was staying put on his gurney. It is highly unusual for him to be still for more than 10 seconds, so I knew he wasn’t well. Dr. Whicker wanted to do more x-rays of Quinn’s lungs. He also said that after a hypoxic event, it is possible to develop swelling on the brain. He did not recommend a CT scan because Quinn was not giving any indication that there was an issue. Quinn even remembered that I told him we would go to the park when he woke up from his nap, and when he remembered, he was upset to learn that we weren’t going.

We were able to get some giggles out of Quinn when they gave us a box of little plastic toy animals to play with. Quinn thought it was a great game to throw them across the room. This kid loves to throw. It started with food when he was 10 months old, and it never stopped. It is a constant battle to get him to not throw things. Oftentimes well-meaning professionals--doctors, therapists, etc.--will give Quinn one of their “tools” to investigate while they are investigating him. If I can’t get it out of his hands quickly enough, it ends up on the floor, usually broken. The most recent casualty was an otoscope at his pediatrician’s office, for example. Dr. Whicker came in during the animal game, and just started picking them up, unfazed. I told him, “Since he almost died today, I’m just going to let him do what makes him happy.”

I was concerned that Quinn wasn’t moving his right arm very much, but later realized it was just because he had an IV and oxygen monitor on that side. He was on 2 liters of oxygen at that point, and the x-rays showed fluid on his lung, so that explained the need. Because of that, and the concern for potential fluid on the brain, Dr. Whicker wanted to keep him in the hospital overnight.

Dr. Whicker said that he was amazed Quinn was doing so well given the events of the day. He actually said God was looking out for him because his recovery was pretty miraculous.

Admitted to Children’s Hospital

We got up to the floor around 7 that night. Quinn was on a clear liquid diet, just in case any complications arose and he needed surgery. So he was hungry and tired, the combination for crankiness. Quinn’s aunt and uncle came to visit us in the hospital, bringing the 3 B’s of happiness: a balloon, bubbles, and books. Quinn was getting more and more back to normal with each passing hour. By the time he went to sleep, he had weaned off the oxygen. But during the night, his oxygen levels went a little too low, so they put him on just ½ liter and that did the trick.

In the morning, they wanted to repeat his blood work and x-ray before letting him have some solid food to eat. All the tests looked better than the day before, so they allowed him to eat. If everything went well with lunch, they would let him go home. I cut his cheese cubes and broccoli into itty bitty pieces, but mistakenly let him bite the flimsy fish stick, which he promptly choked on, but coughed up rather quickly. But we still had a problem.

I brought up my concern to the doctor, about how he had choked twice before the grape incident, and now with lunch. She said that he would need to have a Modified Barium Swallow to see what was going on with his swallowing, but they didn’t do the test on Sundays, and she didn’t feel she could keep him in the hospital just for that. So we planned to do this as an outpatient, and got to go home around 4:00. My in-laws had driven 2 hours to come help us, and arrived in time to take us home. Hubby had left around noon to go home and get ready for work, and wound up working a double shift through the night.

Our new church, which we hadn’t even officially joined at the time, supported us in our time of need. Our pastor happened to see my post on Facebook and contacted me that way, and came to visit us in the ER at Children’s. It meant so much to us that he would come and pray with us. One of the ER nurses that helped care for Quinn at the first hospital actually goes to our church, though neither of us knew it at the time. She reached out to me via Facebook as well when she made the connection after receiving a prayer request from our pastor. One of the elders at our church made us a huge meal that fed us for several days. Many prayed for us. Our church, without even really knowing us, showed us so much care and concern, and truly embodied the church mission, which is to “love well.”

Back at Home

It was good to be home, though a little scary, too. I was anxious about Quinn potentially choking again. I was also concerned about his oxygen levels, which normally decrease at night. I have an oximeter that I use at work, so I was able to check his oxygen levels, which were too low at night. The doctor said not to be concerned unless it was in the low 80’s, and he stayed in the mid to upper 80’s, so I tried not to worry (it really should be above 90 ideally, and normal is in the upper 90’s).

He did choke often on food, even soft foods like small pasta shells. This scared him, and he would cry after a choking episode. A few incidences were very scary, causing my legs to shake. Meal times were stressful. Going out to eat was not very enjoyable. What if he had a choking episode at the restaurant?

I worried when I sent him to daycare, since he ate lunch there. I reviewed the menu daily and asked that he not be fed certain foods. The teacher had Quinn sit right next to her.

The swallow test showed that he was not aspirating food or liquid, but that the food was going over his airway, so he was at risk for choking and aspiration. We didn’t know why this was happening (and why it was happening with foods he had been eating without any problem previously) so we started speech therapy and saw an ENT.

Every doctor Quinn has ever seen has said he has large tonsils. Only one doctor asked if we wanted to see an ENT about it. Since all the other doctors said that a lot of kids have large tonsils and it’s not a problem, we opted not to see an ENT before this. When we had our appointment with the ENT, Quinn was sick, so he was mouth-breathing, and his tonsils were larger than usual. The ENT thought that since he was mouth breathing, that might be causing the food to move toward his windpipe and leading to the choking episodes. He recommended removing the tonsils and adenoids, but he wanted us to see a speech therapist first.

Our speech therapy appointment was the next week. Meanwhile, Quinn continued to have choking episodes. A few days prior to the speech therapy appointment, he started choking on something. A second or two later, he swallowed, and said, “That’s better,” and he was fine. No tears. This happened again a few days later. Since then, he has not had a choking episode. I think he figured out for himself what he needed to do to swallow properly.

The speech therapy appointment was eye-opening. He’s had speech therapy for a while, but for his actual speech, not for swallowing. I never realized how much trouble he has moving his tongue. He’s always had problems with coordination, and I think that’s contributing to his tongue issues. The ENT and speech therapist also thought he might have a bit of a tongue-tie, but the speech therapist said that probably would affect his speech and not so much swallowing. When we followed up with the ENT, we decided not to do surgery since Quinn seems to be doing better and hasn’t had a choking episode in over a month. His speech therapy appointments have decreased to every 2 weeks, and we don’t have to see the ENT anymore unless there’s a problem.

How We’ve Changed

I’m glad that things seem to be better, and am grateful that we’ve turned a corner. I’m able to deal with and process the situation by writing and talking about it. It’s been difficult for me to do this, and I can’t imagine what it’s like for Quinn. He doesn’t really have the ability to talk about it, and I wonder how he’s processing it. He will sometimes say things like, “Oh, grape—choke, cry,” in an uneasy tone of voice. It makes me so sad for him. I try to talk to him about it, and we pray about it, but I’m not sure how much he really understands. I just know it had to be more terrifying for him than it was for me.

I’ve had to learn to just give all the anxiety to God. It doesn’t do me any good to worry about it, especially when Quinn’s not with me. It’s gotten a lot better. At first, I would always be aware of the time, and would pray for him at meal times when I wasn’t with him. Once, I was on my way to pick him up from daycare, and I was first in line at a red light. An ambulance passed, and slowed down before proceeding through the red light. When it slowed, I saw that the driver was Sandy, one of the first responders from the fire department. When the light changed, I followed the ambulance for a while, praying that it was not on its way to the daycare! Silly thought, I know, but I was very relieved when it turned a different way.

I have a new respect for emergency personnel. They are just regular people, like you and me, who have some extra training in how to save someone’s life. But they have feelings and emotions as well. We went to visit all of the first responders a few weeks after the incident to say a big “thank you” for saving Quinn’s life. Sarah said Quinn was “the bluest kid I’ve ever seen, and I used to do a lot of pediatric runs.” David said it was the first time in his 13 years as an EMT that he thought he might lose a patient. Sherri, the 911 dispatcher said she had to “take a moment” to collect herself after the call, and was relieved to learn later that Quinn made it. She said they often don’t know what happens after a call, but was grateful that someone called her from the hospital to tell her Quinn was OK. It was clear from talking to them after the fact that they were scared and shaken by the incident as we were, but they never showed it at the time. They just did their job and did it well. I can’t imagine the heavy burden they carry emotionally from doing things like this day in and day out. But they continue to do it because of their desire to help others.

Since his conception, this kid has just been one miracle after another. It definitely has not been a boring journey through parenthood. I still have moments of anxiety when I think about the choking incident, and my heart beats a little faster when I hear sirens or see an ambulance. But we are certainly grateful for the positive outcome. And of course Quinn will probably never eat another grape while he’s living under our roof. :)