Seizure

Soccer tryouts began as it always does. I entered the gym of the club, offering a few hello's and how are you's to my players. They were scattered around the gym, waiting for Coach. Some were chatting as they aimlessly waited for the signal to begin. Others were kicking soccer balls back and forth. This is my third year coaching and I am loving every moment. How can you not enjoy middle and high school kids? They have such interesting and diverse personalities.

I put my phone on vibrate and placed it on the top bleacher, out of harms way. Grabbing my paper pad and pen, I turned with the intention of gathering these incredible kids together to begin practice. That notion vanished when I laid eyes on the 17-year-old boy convulsing on the gym floor. Kids can be kids. For one fleeting moment "practical joke" entered my mind. It was wiped clean by the terror and confusion on the faces of my players. No. Please don't let this be real. I quickly moved to his side, noticing his curled, rigid fingers, the strength of the tremors racking his body, and the violence of his head movements. I quietly ordered the others back so I could provide care, and instructed someone to get an adult. To tell them to call parents and 911.

I knelt behind this precious boy to support and prevent his body from flipping to his back. I had everyone leave the gym except for a high school girl I knew was training to be a nurse. I needed someone to help me. Please God, give me strength. As she supported his head with her hand, I whispered to the boy to hold on, I was here, he was going to be okay. The convulsions finally ceased after a minute and thirty seconds. Thank you, God. I enlisted support from two guys who work at the club, directing them to do as I said. As I continued to support his back and the girl's hands beneath his head to prevent injury, we all worked together to gently slide him further back as he began to empty his stomach three times. The vomiting done, his warm, damp head lying gently on his arm, I worked to check his vitals and gain any response from his lifeless body. For more than five minutes I was unable to get any sign of repsonse out of him other than a flutter of an eyelid. No noise. God, what do I do? Please get them here fast. Please don't let him have another one. His breathing appeared normal, nothing was constricting his airway. His eyes beneath the lids were rapidly moving left and right. I continued to lightly rub his back and speak in quiet tones to him. I wanted him to know someone was there taking care of him - he wasn't alone. I told him his parents were on the way and to just relax.

Pleading for him to give me a sign of response, I finally received a grunt. Thank you! It was enough to let me know he was working to come back to us. A minute later, he emptied his stomach four more times. We continued our dance of gently sliding him further away. Our boy laid there on his stomach, fighting to regain consciousness and clarity. Please God, take care of him. Get us the help we need. Within a few minutes, the paramedics arrived and took over the scene. One gentleman asked the boy some questions. This time we had more responses. Slurred language, but he was recovering - he was gaining composure. He remembered where he was at. He remembered how old he was. This is good. He remained disoriented even after his parents arrived, even after he was loaded on the stretcher and carted to the ambulance. He will be okay. God, please be with him and his family.

As he lay on the stretcher and the paramedics worked around him, I glanced to the mother. Her face told me everything. This was her child. She was terrified. "I'm here. Momma's here. I love you." Nothing like this had ever happened before. I quickly moved to her side and collected her hands in mine. She looked at me and focused on my eyes. I told her he would be okay. Her son was in good hands. I introduced myself and let her know I had been with her son the entire time. He was never alone. He was cared for.

"He's my only baby."
"Okay. He'll be okay. What's your name?"
"B."
"Okay, B. Your son is going to be okay. The paramedics will take good care of him."
"Okay."
"You are all going to be okay. Be as strong as you can be for him. I know this is scary. I know you are worried."
"What do I do?"
Oh, God. What do I say? How can I comfort her?
"B. I need you to go with your son. I need you to listen to what they are saying. I need you to be strong and to let him know you are there for him. You love him and he'll be okay. Can you do that?"

She nodded her head. I gave her a quick, strong hug and then the director of the club and I escorted her out to the ambulance. I continued to squeeze her hand as they loaded her only baby into the ambulance.

"Why are his eyes so glassy?"
Don't break. Hold on a little longer. She needs your strength.
"That's normal for a seizure. It's going to take a little time for him to recover. I know it's hard, but he will come out of it. Just keep talking to him."

We helped her into the ambulance and told her to take care. If she needed anything to let us know.

I turned my back and walked slowly into the gym.

"Odie, what..."
"Just give me a minute, R. Please. I'll be right back."

I grabbed my phone off the top bleacher and exited the gym. Climbing the short flight of stairs I made my way to the conference room. The lights remained off as I stood dialing my mother's number.

"Hello?"
"Hi. It's me."
"Oh, hi!"
"I just need to talk to you." (voice shaky)
"Okay."
How do I do this? Please.
"I just need to tell you what happened." (choked sobs)
"Okay. What's wrong? Are you okay?" (slight panic in her voice)
"I just...I came to start practice...there was a boy...he had a seizure. It was really bad Mom. I did everything right. I knew what to do. I..." (sobbing)
"It's okay honey. You did good. I know it's scary."
"I don't even know why I'm crying!"
"Oh, honey, it's all that adrenaline. You stayed calm through the whole thing, that's good, but now you got to let it come out. You have to let it go so you can be okay."
(quiet sobbing - body shaking - pacing)
"I'm so glad you were there to help him."
"That's just it Mom! No body knew what to do except me. Can you imagine if I hadn't been there? They didn't know how to help him." (loud, strong sobbing)
"I know sweetie, but you were there. It's not good that no one else knew, but you were there. You have to remember that. You stayed strong and calm. You held it together through it all. It's okay to let it go now."

Those were the longest 10 minutes of my life. It will be a long time before I forget certain images, certain things that were said. It will be awhile before I can be okay. I came to school this morning and in every one of the 7th graders I saw the boy's face. I look at these precious children and wonder if any of them will be next. How can I protect them? I can't really. I just have to be ready and strong if the time comes.

Today is going to be a hard day. Already, my throat closes and the tears behind my eyes threaten to come forth. My heart aches as I think about where he is today, what happened at the hospital, what did they find, will he truly be okay? That moment was the first time I ever had to deal with a seizure situation in my life. I have never witnessed one, let alone have to be the lead in initial care.

I praise God that I was there. I think back a few weeks ago when I got the call from the club asking if I would be coach again this year. I can't help but wonder how things would have turned out if I had declined, as I had conidered doing because of how much I already have on my plate this year.

I am ever appreciative of the high school girl who stepped up to help me. I know she was struggling last night as I was. I know she will be thinking of it today as I am. I am also appreciative of the two club workers who helped me when I needed it the most - even though they were uncomfortable and confused.

There is a reason for everything. I was there to support this boy in a critical moment of his life. What was the reason for him having this moment? An answer I may never hear.