Yesterday before I went plummeting down the stairs I had what I thought was a beautiful post started about Darryl, Dave’s Dad.  Darryl’s funeral and birthday were both a year ago yesterday (December 1).  Happy Birthday Grandpa! I had lovely things to say and had been thinking about them on my way to and from the school to pick up Eli.  Eli and I walked into the house as I was walking up our stairs, I tripped, consequently slipping and then dropping straight down on my left knee while facing towards the stairs. I happened to be holding a drink in my hand and in a bold effort I did what I could to save my  ice tea. You can either cheer for my brilliant save or boo for my silly attempt, because in an effort to save my drink, my left knee cap slammed right into the stair, taking the full brunt of the fall. Eli watched in horror as I screamed, “DAMN IT! (and maybe something a little stronger),” while I, stunned and immobile, continued my death grip on the ice tea.  Frantically trying to figure out what to do,  Eli ran past me and pleaded, “Mom, are you ok? I am going to call dad!”  He picked up the phone, dialed Dave’s number and as I stood still immobile I heard Eli say, “Dad! Dad! You need to come home now! Mom is hurt!” In that moment, my extreme pride completely overrode the intense pain. Go Eli!

Somehow and quickly I pulled myself together. Eli took the drink from my clutches and helped me up the stairs. I thought I would be fine. I am not fine.  Turns out 24 hours later and lots and lots of and knee pain and  RICE  (rest, ice, compression & elevation), I have decided to suck it up and  have it checked. Moments from now I will do just that. I will keep you posted.

In the meantime I really want to finish what I started before that whole fall-down-the-stairs-landing-on-my-knee-cap-and-not-dropping-my-drink thing happened. . .

Yesterday, on the one year anniversary of his funeral, I had Grandpa on my mind.   See, earlier in the day I met a friend for lunch.  I was not in the mood for lunch and because this is a friend I am just getting to know, I was not sure how to cancel. Dave encouraged me to suck it up so I went.  Once there, we ordered. In line my friend asked so I explained my crazy food allergies, then the Cafe Rio guys did their usual and hilarious comeback to my request for “no cheese,” and all shouted, “Extra cheese,”  she paid, we filled up our drinks (foreshadowing to my knee injury) and we sat down.  As conversations often do, one topic led to another and then I found myself crying, which I rarely do these days, right in the middle of the Park City Cafe Rio.  As I told my friend about December 1, 2010, I filled with buckets of love for Grandpa and then I thought about Kyle.

Dave’s dad had been in poor health for years.  When Kyle  was first diagnosed with Stevens-Johnson Syndrome, Darryl was on his last legs.  It was around Thanksgiving 2010. Kyle had been in then out and then back in the hospital for the past month.   Dave’s brother, Uncle Denny, was staying in Maryland with Grandpa while Dave’s mom was away visiting her ailing sister. As weak as Grandpa was, he was also very aware and very concerned about Kyle.  During his two stays at Primary Children’s Hospital, Kyle often mentioned Grandpa and would say things like, “Mom, you know I was thinking. Grandpa really understands what I am going through. I think I am starting to understand what he is going through too. I feel sad that he is so sick. I remember playing games with Grandpa. Being sick is not fun.”

During our long days and even longer nights, Grandpa easily became Kyle’s long distant and most comforting Teddy Bear. Just knowing that Grandpa understood helped Kyle feel like he was not alone.  At the end of our frequent Grandpa conversations, Kyle  would often say a simple, “I love you Grandpa.”

After a seemingly successful 3-day treatment of IVIG, Kyle was finally allowed to go home. We called Uncle Denny so he could share the good news with Grandpa. Just about thirty-six hours after Kyle came home, Grandpa passed away. My boys loved their Grandpa and we knew we all had to be in Washington DC.  Kyle was still very ill and so extremely fragile. The effects of his illness, the medications and the steroids, specifically, were terrible and completely changed who he was inside and out.  We thought about leaving him home, but because we were completely terrified to leave him out of our sight, we crossed our fingers and boarded a plane.

Kyle is the oldest grandson and wanted to say something at Grandpa’s funeral.  “There was not a dry eye in the chapel, ” I continued to tell my friend, “Kyle had only been out of the hospital for a week when he spoke. He wore a hat to protect his misshapen face. His eyes were still so red and he was so pale.  (He was very uncomfortable being around people and uncomfortable having his picture taken.) He was brave, tender and you could feel Kyle pulling Grandpa right into the room. The gift Kyle’s sweet, tender and vulnerable disposition gave us was that were all able to feel that sweet and tender love for Dave’s dad. And when I say people were crying, I mean, many of us, with tear soaked faces were hyperventilating. I was breathless as I watched Kyle speak. It was otherworldly” I knew my friend got it and I had to stop talking so once again, I could catch my breath.

. . .Tonight as I finally finish this post, I found Kyle’s talk.

Here is what he said:

Happy Birthday Grandpa!

 Hello.  I am Kyle Adams. I am the oldest Grandchild of Darryl and DeAnne Adams.  My family currently  lives in Park City, UT.  Today I am speaking on behalf of Grandpa’s seven grandchildren.

 Eli is my brother.  James, Thomas and Sage, belong to Denny and Jaqui and Andrew and Nathan belong to Dori and Jeremiah.

 This morning at breakfast  I reminded everyone that today is Grandpa’s Birthday. My brother Eli suggested we all sing him Happy Birthday so we did.  I am sure Grandpa was there listening.

 Just over a week ago I was released from Primary Children’s Medical Center. I have something called Stevens-Johnson Syndrome, which is where your body has a reaction usually to medication and then attacks all of its mucous membranes and sometimes skin.  I was in the hospital for a almost a month. I am still recovering.  In the hospital I was scared and I was in a lot of pain. Often when I was really struggling I would tell my mom that I know Grandpa understands how I am feeling. 

 Grandpa died less than two days after I was released from the hospital.   I think he stayed alive to know I was ok.  My Uncle Denny, who was with Grandpa before he died told my mom that Grandpa knew I had been so sick and also knew that I was getting better. I was so happy that he knew I was ok before he died.

 Often this past month when I have been sad or in a lot of pain I say prayers asking Heavenly Father to send messages to Grandpa asking him to let Grandpa know we love him and we are thinking of him.

 At breakfast this morning I asked my cousins and my brother if they had messages for grandpa or memories of him.  James told me how much he loves Grandpa and that he misses him. My brother, Eli, always being silly said, “Grandpa always made the best snacks.”  Tommy, age 3, said, “Hi Grandpa.”

 I remember going on walks with Grandpa. I remember when he took me, my brother and dad fishing. We spent most of the time catching worms, which was a blast.  I loved just hanging out with Grandpa and playing board games with him.  He was tough competitor.  I remember the last time I saw him I knew that I would probably not see him again so I gave him a lot of extra hugs. My parents tried getting me into the car because we needed to get to the airport and I just could not stop hugging Grandpa.

I love you Grandpa!

Simultaneously numb and completely in shock. That is how I have been and continue to be. Slowly I am coming back. We are all coming back. On February 6, 2011 I wrote the following:

Seeing Kyle’s fingernails and toenails peel off layer by layer until they reach the underlying skin from the nail bed up is what knocked some life back into me. The realization that something so seemingly minor, something we did not even notice until today, eight weeks after Kyle was first admitted to the hospital, woke me up. The weight is heavy. His fingernails look so gross and so painful. When I first looked at them I thought they were bloody because he had been picking the scabs out of his damaged nose. I was wrong. These ten fingernails and ten toenails were destroyed and slipped by unnoticed, unnoticed until now.

Before this all happened, if I were simply dealing with Kyle’s freakishly peeling fingernails, I would have completely lost my mind. Now peeling in such a horrific way, I didn’t even notice.

I wonder how long? You can tell they have been peeling for some time. Every single day I care for Kyle. Every single day I look in his mouth, examine his eyes, touch his puffy face and ask him how he is doing. Every single day I give him a litany of medication, medication that are administered around the clock, during the night, during the day, when I want to sleep, when Dave wants to sleep, we can’t. We are making sure our boy is ok. These bloodied and peeling fingernails woke me up, yet right now they are so insignificant. Somehow looking at these bloodied nails, a switch flipped. I can no longer ignore my emotions. I can no longer deny my broken heart. I can no longer say,

“It could have been worse.” It just keeps on coming.

The physical, emotional and psychological pain I have watched Kyle endure this past year as a result of Stevens-Johnson Syndrome is pain I could not have imagined. The utter despair Dave and I felt as we watched all the doctors try to figure out what was going on was so frustrating that initially I quietly unplugged my emotions. I had to. I had to get us through each day. I had to be there for my family. Kyle was breaking right before our eyes and we were all completely terrified. Kyle’s agony kept me silent. I kept my tears quiet. I kept my despair out of his hospital room. When others broke down, I asked them to stop.

“You are scaring him. And he does not need to be scared.”

The week before I took Kyle into the pediatrician he was home with a cold.

On Tuesday, October 19, 2010, Kyle came home from school and said he was not feeling well. He sat on the couch and almost immediately fell asleep. Eli’s Parent Teacher Conference was at 4:00. Dave came home from work to attend the conference too. The three of us left while Kyle remained asleep on the couch. When we returned an hour later, Kyle was still asleep. Kyle never takes naps. He felt warm and sounded like he was getting Croup. Because he has a long history with Croup and the Croup getting really bad really fast, I decided I should take him into a doctor. Usually I would take him to his regular Salt Lake City Pediatrician, but because it was almost 6PM, the SLC Pediatrician’s office was closed and I did not want to end up in the ER. Kyle did not need to suffer. I called the local Pediatrician. Even though he was a new patient, she was happy to see Kyle.

By the time we arrived at the doctor’s office, Kyle was much worse. His fever was 102, he could not catch his breath, he was so pale and was totally freaked out. His throat hurt. His voice was hoarse and he sounded like a very sad baby seal.

The doctor thought he had Croup too. She tried to give Kyle a breathing treatment, which after a few seconds he refused. Then she gave him Oral Steroids and 600 MG of Ibuprofen. She prescribed two different types of inhalers and sent us on our way. I took him home. Then Dave drove over to the Pharmacy to fill Kyle’s prescriptions. Once Dave was home, we gave Kyle his medicine and put him to bed. During the night we closely monitored him. Kyle did our usual Croup-at-home remedy, which consisted of taking a long hot shower and then standing outside in the cold. Kyle still felt lousy the next morning and stayed home from school. By the afternoon he was feeling much better. By Friday, when my mom was with him, he seemed even better, yet his intense cough lingered.

By Sunday Night, October 24, Kyle began complaining about how his eyes felt like they had sandpaper in them. Then after his shower the next morning he complained about how his eyes had been glued together. Because he had already washed them outI did see his glue-y eyes. My motherly logic dictated that he was probably getting Pink Eye. Again, because I had not seen Kyle’s eyes glued shut, I wasn’t quite sure and even considered allergies. Sure, his eyes were red, but I thought he would be fine. Additionally, Kyle hates missing school. Because he had already been sick so, instead of keeping him home, I washed out his eyes and sent him on his way.

That same day, Eli was gone on a play-date.  At 3:05 PM I arrived at after-school-pick-up to get Kyle. The very first words out of his mouth, and while he was fervently pointing at his eyes, were,

“Mom, my eyes really hurt! They sting! I cannot stand it! They burn!”

I felt guilty for sending him to school and could tell things were much worse. I immediately asked if he wanted to go to the doctor half expecting him to say no. Emphatically he answered,

“Yes!”

Because we had seen the Park City Pediatricians for Kyle’s initial Croup diagnosis, I called them again and scheduled another appointment. When we arrived, the office staff said the doctor was forty minutes behind. Because we live so close, I told them we would go home and then come back. In those short forty minutes and on our way back to the Doctor’s office, Kyle suddenly freaked out and blurted,

“Mom, I think I burnt my tongue from my hot cocoa! I can hardly open my mouth.”

Because we were going back to the doctor I asked if I could have the doctor look at his tongue too. “Yes! Yes! Please! It hurts. I don’t think I can open my mouth.”

By the time we arrived back to our appointment, Kyle could barely handle the eye pain. Oozy green stuff was dripping continuously from his eyes and down his face. He looked like he had pink eye on steroids. His face and lips were beginning to swell. The doctor took his temperature and it was normal. She said she thought he was suffering from a really bad sinus infection, a sinus infection that had moved from his eyes to his tear ducts. Huh? Honestly, even then, I did not think she really had any idea what was going on. She took a big guess and threw some antibiotics at the situation. I am told that usually big guesses work. Then she looked at his tongue and said it was not ripped. What she did see were  three big sores underneath Kyle’s tongue. She attributed them to the sinus infection. She prescribed 2,000 MG of Augmentin twice daily and we were on our way.

Kyle stayed home the next day. However, because my neighbor had planned a wonderful pumpkin carving party and because Kyle seemed better after resting all day, we let him go. Kyle, Eli and I went to the neighbors while Dave, who was also getting sick and who was leaving early the next morning for a business trip, slept. As the night progressed Kyle’s eyes and face became even more swollen. His lips looked as if a bad Plastic Surgeon over-injected him with Collagen. The other mothers, who I do not know well, noticed Kyle’s face, talked amongst themselves, worked each other into a frenzy and then mentioned things like Cellulitis, the dangers of terrible eye infections and of course, death. I was completely spooked! The women continued to insist that I rush Kyle to the ER. Regardless of what was really going on, somewhere deep inside of me I had a feeling that something very serious was wrong. I just did not know what.

My neighbor graciously offered to keep Eli and because I knew Dave was not feeling well and also leaving for a business trip the next morning, I accepted. I took Kyle home. Instead of racing to the Emergency Room, I paged the pediatrician and then called my friend, who is also my doctor. After talking to my them, after weighing the history of the situation and listening to how Kyle’s cough sounded, they both encouraged me to take him to the Emergency Room at Primary Children’s Medical Center. The Pediatrician told me to prepare and pace myself in case they keep Kyle over night. She thought they would put him in the Quick Treatment Care Facility and give him IV Antibiotics to push the infection out of his system. I packed a bag for Kyle and gathered his favorite Blanky Car (Blanket) and Bully (stuffed animal). We were on our way driving down Parley’s Canyon in the very first big snowstorm of the season.

TO BE CONTINUED.

Part 1: Seriously? Where do I begin? Stevens-Johnson Syndrome I shake my Fists at You!