The night before Wyatt died is the night that haunts me. It’s what wakes me up at 2:00 in the morning and keeps me from sleep. It makes my insides hurt. It makes my stomach turn. It’s the thing that makes my heart hurt.
Wyatt had a rough night that night. Brooks and I had agreed that he would go home to be with Shane. We were worried about him. And he would gather up a few more things for Wyatt and I.
Casey and Jenny (my two angels that I will share more about in another post) brought me dinner and kept me company for a bit. Then they stood watch while I showered.
I thought I was settling in for the night after everyone was gone. I pulled the chair out into a bed and tried to get comfortable after making sure that Wyatt was ok.
But this would not be a night for being settled. Wyatt was up quite a bit. He couldn’t get comfortable. He was having trouble going to the bathroom. Between juggling the chest tube, all the other wires connected to him, and a bed pan, this was no easy feat. And he was in pain. Every time he moved, it irritated the chest tube. He ended up having an accident, so the nurse and I had to change him and the bed. Poor kid… more being jostled around.
His stomach was upset and he vomited at least once or twice.
His pain meds weren’t really cutting it anymore. We struggled to manage his pain. And on top of the pain, he was running a fever. So he had to take Tylenol, but ended up vomiting that back up. It felt like the nurse was in our room almost constantly trying to help him and monitoring him.
And all the while all of these other things are going on, we need to keep his oxygen level up. So I’m encouraging him to take deep breaths.
Earlier in the day, I had been encouraging Wyatt to take deep breaths, modeling deep breathing for him (there’s the teacher in me). He finally looked at me and sternly said, “Mom, stop doing that!!!” Like I said before, he still had some spunk. So as I was monitoring his breathing that night, I was trying not to agitate him.
I felt so bad for Wyatt and so just wanted to help him. I was frustrated, heartbroken, feeling helpless. My poor baby was in pain, scared, and exhausted. And nothing I was doing seemed to help.
He finally fell asleep in this crazy position kind of sideways on the bed. I wanted to adjust him to make him more comfortable, but I didn’t dare move him lest I wake him up.
I can’t remember who got there first in the morning, Brooks or Casey. But I was so relieved to have someone there. I was exhausted. And scared. Why was last night so hard? As soon as the doctor came by he said that they would be adjusting Wyatt’s pain meds to keep him more comfortable.
Looking back now, I hate that night. I question everything that happened, everything that I did. Did I do enough? Should I have asked different questions? Should I have demanded to call the doctor? Should I have made the hospital staff do something? Could they have done anything? Was there anything they could have done? Would it have mattered? I’ll never know…