The morning started typical enough. At 5:00 in the morning, I heard my husband roll out of bed, go to the bathroom, then head out to the kitchen for a snack. Only this time, he never made it back to bed. I heard the awful 'thump' of him hitting the hardwood floor as he went down, the spoon crashing into the glass of the french doors, and the awful moaning noises he makes when I know he's suffering a bad one.

I was out of bed in an instant and in the kitchen. The kitchen door stood wide open, the chocolate cake in the fridge in shambles all over the fridge. Chocolate cake was splattered on the french door window panels and he was lying on his back moaning. I quickly turned him on his left side, got the remaining cake out of his mouth, and called 9-1-1. Unfortunately for us, with his Addison's giving him a glucagon shot overwhelms his body and has in the past made the reaction worse. And usually, he's not sick because of a reaction. There's always something else going on.

As a sat next to my husband while he thrashed incoherently on the floor, I calmly talked to the 9-1-1 operator. My son came into the room, woken up by the noise coming from the kitchen. The look on his face was devastatingly haunting. It was like my daughters face, four years previous. He was scared, concerned, and frozen in his spot, eyes transfixed on his Dad. I went over to him, and gave him a hug and told him the ambulance would be on it's way soon. I got him to look out the window to watch for it--a job he was more than happy to do to not have to see Dad that way.

My daughter woke up shortly after the ambulance arrived and I took both of them into my room to watch TV while the crew worked on him. We talked about how we had prepared for this, what I had done to help Dad, and that I would come back and let them know how Dad was doing every few minutes. I gave them hugs and kisses, and told them that the ambulance drivers and police were there and trying to get him better.  

Off to the living room again to answer questions, talk to the EMT's about hospitals, medications, give them his pump and begin to call family and friends to come and watch the children in case I needed to be at the hospital all day.

I went back to the kids to let them know that Dad was going to be going for an ambulance ride, explain to them what the EMT's would do, and who would be coming to watch them. They asked to watch from the window, and I let them. My medical background and 'flight or fight response'  for whatever reason didn't allow me to cry then as I watched my son look out the window perched on the back of the couch, then close the blinds and bury his hands into his face as he sobbed, or the tears that welled up in my daughters eyes. But I cry now. For them, then, I had to be the example, the strong one. I couldn't cry.

They watched as the ambulance pulled away, and then several minutes later we heard a knock on the door. Thinking it was probably a follow up visit, I went to answer the door. It was the ambulance driver saying that he was stabilized, and they were going to get him to eat something before releasing him to me. The kids climbed up in the back of the ambulance and sat by Dad. My husband answered every question right. But something just kept nagging at me. I brushed those nagging fears aside, but they just kept coming. The words "think four years back" kept coming to my mind. I tried to reassure myself numerous times that he was okay, but throughout the day he never really got better.

I laughed as my kids said, "Oh yeah, Dad's better!" as the ambulance brought him back in the house. I kept trying to tell them that the real work was just beginning. Hourly blood sugar checks, suspending than restarting the pump anytime blood sugars got too high or too low since he wasn't eating or keeping anything down, and changing puke bowls. Since he takes blood pressure medication for the Addison's, I also get to accompany him to and from the bathroom. He gets extremely dizzy when he stands up--and it's worse if he misses a medication or gets sick.

Later that night, he admitted that he wasn't feeling any better, and we made the decision to take him to the emergency room. I called a sitter, told her to bring a pillow and blanket in case we were back late, and left to the ER. We watched the Saints win on a tiny 10 inch screen inside our emergency room while the dripping of the IV filled my husband with fluids and his soft, steady breathing let me know the anti nausea medication had started to work. I closed my eyes for a quick nap feeling the adrenaline that had kept me going most of the day slowly run out of me. The rest of the night would be long. I turned my caretaker role over to the nurses for a few hours while I geared up for the late night shift.

And what a late night it was. Setting the alarm to check him every several hours, check his sugar and go back to bed. But I'm not complaining at all--just hoping and praying for a speedy recovery. Every wink, every hoarse thank you or "I love you" just reassures me that I'm doing okay and that he's going to be okay. And that I love him even more through everything we face.

One moment when he came to he started crying. He said it was hard to put our family through this. That it was hard to see his kids have to worry so much about him. I reassured him that it was only going to make our family stronger. That our children would learn lessons about service, compassion and the true meaning of love. Those are hard lessons to teach, but I saw my children care and love their father in a way that I've never seen before. And my heart has just filled with even more love for my family. Paper doesn't do justice to describing feelings like that.

Of course, the souvenirs were nice too. This morning I put groceries in the back seat and noticed that my son had put his sisters rabbit, and his bear with the "safety badge" (or superhero badge as he calls it) on his seat and belted them in. (The EMT's gave it to them for being so brave). "I have to put their seatbelt on Mom, for safety Mom, because I'm a superhero safety boy." I am one lucky Mom. --Traci