Weddings, wheezing, and the unexpected

I heard it not long after we arrived on Friday, a soft rasp in her chest that was more vibration than sound. I held our grinning toddler near my mom, “Do you think she needs a treatment?” We were three hours from home, visiting for a wedding.

I lugged the blue zippered bag out of our luggage, removed the machine, plugged it into the socket, and filled the clear plastic repository with solution. I flipped the switch and the nebulizer whirred, forcing air through the tubing and into the chamber to create a breathable mist to open my girl’s esophagus. After ten minutes, the rasp was gone.

I left her with Mom for a night of bowling with my best friend. We laughed loud and talked about car trouble, teenagers, and growing girls. We commiserated that no one tells you about raising a tween when you hold your squirming pink bundle for the first time.

When the night was done I checked in on my girl. Mom reported another treatment, a very slight fever, an easy bedtime. I cracked the door to her room and walked softly across the burgundy carpet, avoiding the creaking boards underneath. Before I got to her bed I saw her chest heaving in the shadows. Even in sleep, she was working hard to push air out to make room for her next breath.

I slipped downstairs to gather the nebulizer, chamber, mouthpiece, and magic solution. She rested between her daddy and me with droopy eyes and pasty skin. The rhythmic in and out of her chest eased after 10 minutes with the mist and we lay her back down for the night.

At 6 am, her breaths were shallow — worse than the night before. Her exhale was more grunt than breath. I gave her two nebs in hopes of making it until immediate care opened at 8:30. I wanted to avoid the ER and the $250 copay. We ate, dressed, took another treatment and left for the doctor.

In immediate care, they tested and measured. We took turns holding a wired, agitated, 35-pound toddler who was over-excited one minute and lethargic the next. My hips and back ached from the long whispering sways. The rhythm of simultaneous bouncing, rocking, singing and praying was all I could do.

The tests reached their climax as we donned lead aprons and restrained her for the x-ray machine — she had to be perfectly still or else a do-over. After all the swabs, pokes, prods, and pictures the clinic doctor announced what I already knew. She needed another treatment and steroids to quell the attack. After a visit to the pharmacy, a drive back to grandma’s house, and a teaspoon of oral steroids, we saw noticeable improvement. She was out of the woods.

We had planned a full weekend of meet-ups and shopping trips. We had planned an easy Saturday morning breakfast and some time away to visit and enjoy. Instead we experienced a day of wrestling, holding, and struggling.

So it is with life. We never know what the day may bring. We cannot anticipate the good or bad in our path. But whatever comes, we cling to the ones we love and the One who loves us, and carry on.

I’ll leave you with a song that says it so well, “Whatever may pass and whatever lies before me, let me be singing when the evening comes.”