Finally, Carly's story continued....
If you missed the previous "Carly's story" click on the following. 1 2 3 4 5. Or click on them if you need a refresher.
Shortly after we arrived at the ER we were taken into a room. Doctor’s began to file in and out. One by one.
The focus with any child who has ever had a heart condition before, is…let’s just say, about the only thing that the health care pro’s focus on. After they finally realized this had nothing to do with her heart, we finally got some labs ordered.
As Paul and I sat with Carly, we soon noticed that she was this awful color of yellow. Neither of us had noticed it while at home. Her tiny little lips were of no color. They were, well, colorless. White, to be exact.
Labs were done and we waited. As we waited, a very intense and nasty ER Doc., “head doctor” (as she put it) came into our room. She more or less scolded us. Her words will forever stay etched in my mind. Along with her finger wagging in our faces, “This is a seriously sick child, do you understand that?” We were really put off by her. I of course snapped back, as I took on my defensive roll, “We know she's sick, or we wouldn’t be here”!
Even though we had the nasty head doctor that night in the ER, we had several very concerned and compassionate doctors and nurses. One that came in with the preliminary results of the lab work, told us of course the devastating results. Leukemia. She talked with us for quite a while. She explained that they couldn't be certain, but it looked like it. I now know that she, couldn't confirm the diagnosis for us. It had to be done by Oncology. This is how she put it. She said, “We aren’t 100% certain. Think of it like this. It’s like your standing a beach, looking out into the horizon. You see an object way, far out. You can’t really make out the object, but you assume that it’s a boat of some sort. As you stand there, it becomes a little clearer to you. Yes, a boat. What kind, you’re still not sure. Time will tell as it gets closer to you. Whether or not it’s a sailboat or a ship.”
As we cried for what seemed like forever. Paul and I sat holding Carly and each other. We decided it was time to make those dreaded phone calls to family members. Paul called Ashleigh and Brad. He also called my parents. I was too much of a wreck to do either of those calls. My parents were at a wedding in Bay City that night. We were in Ann Arbor. Quite a distance between the two. They told Paul they were heading to the hospital and would be there in a few hours.
After I gained my composure. I finally went outside with my cell phone. I called the kids and my parents (who were at that time heading to Ann Arbor) and my brother. Ashleigh, was in total disbelief. She kept telling me, "no, mom, they're wrong". My brother, he was in shock too. Matter of fact, there was a very long pause from him after I told him the news. At one point, I thought I had lost my connection. I even looked at my phone to be sure I still had a signal. I soon realized he too was in shock. I asked him to call our oldest brother. My call waiting was ringing. It was my mom. We cried and cried forever while on the phone. She just kept saying, “We’re on our way, we’re on our way”.
Within an hour of talking to my family. Pastor Bob, from our church came into the ER. He sat with us. Cried with us. Prayed over Carly. Prayed over all three of us. He did so, all while he was battling an awful sinus infection. He ended up staying with us into the wee hours. He wanted to see us to our room on that scary 7th floor of Motts Children’s Hospital. We didn’t get to our room until around 11pm. My parents finally made to Ann Arbor shortly after midnight. We all held Carly. Cried and prayed.
During that time, a resident came into our room. She told us that she had just viewed the blood slide in the lab. She confirmed that we were diagnosed with AML. She went on to tell us the entire treatment plan and then she left the room. It was around 1am and my parents and Pastor Bob left too. Leaving Paul and I alone with Carly. Alone on that God fearing 7th floor. All while the dreaded diagnosis settled in.
Part 7, to be continued….