So That Happened

Well we met our first goal of kindergarten before ER but didn't make the out of elementary school second marker with this one:

Clearly, the requested ER selfie demonstrates he is fine, but he did scare the bejeezus out of us yesterday!

Yesterday afternoon, Brad was cleaning an infected cut on his finger, and Evan just dropped. We truly though he had a ten second seizure. He came to, stood up, and had another spell for about two seconds. He was lucid and could remember everything--including how to count to 20 in Japanese--but we were in ER within ten minutes of the incident. Mom thankfully came to stay with Issa.

Brad carried Evan into ER and I parked the car. I came running in and totally skipped the whole metal detector thing. Security got between me and Evan, but finally decided it was easier for everyone to let me go on my word of not having any weapons. The nursing staff was amazing and followed us around with paperwork instead of making me stand at the counter to fill it all out. They gave us a private waiting room with low lights just in case. They kept checking on us. Brad knew all of the medical terms for what we saw. He was so calm and so solid. I fought tears the whole time.

Within ten minutes of our arrival, Evan was fine. All of his color was back and he was cracking jokes, ready to head out. Of course, that meant our wait time grew. By the time we saw the doc, Evan was totally fine. They ran some tests and then started asking questions. Did you see a bright light? Did you hear a buzz? Yep. He passed out.

As it turns out, he has vasovagal syncope. It's a heightened flight or fight defense. Essentially, he was so worried his finger was going to hurt he subconsciously held his breath, and his body reset. He passed out, and his extremities shook to restore oxygen. He yawned repeatedly when he came to because his body was looking for more air.

We might never see it again, but at least we know the specter of  pain is the trigger. I know exactly how he feels--I have the same response to blood. This morning, we took care of his finger and kept him chatting the whole time--you have to breathe to talk. We were giving him a hard time about having such a low bar for him: just breathe. He was all good.

He now has notes with the school nurse and PE teacher--just in case. And I am still saying all kinds of prayers of gratitude for the medical staff and such a simple diagnosis. And the fact that I can breathe again...