Amy Rikkola
January 2021
Amy
Rikkola
,
RN
Special Care Nursery MPS
Children's Hospitals and Clinics of Minnesota
I would never have asked for help, but Amy just knew it was needed. She was an angel.
Friday was my son [the patient's] third birthday. It was getting later in the morning and he still hadn't come in to snuggle with me. I knew something was different but I never in my wildest dreams could have anticipated the sequence of events that occurred that day.
My son had previously had three "minor" seizures. We had had 2 previous overnight stays with EEGs, neurology, and genetic consults. We had met with neurology and genetics 9 days prior to this to determine why he had was having them. No cause had been determined and we had left with a plan to investigate hypoglycemia as a cause.
On his 3rd birthday he never really woke up. I walked into his room and he was having a tonic/clonic seizure. We administered his rescues meds and the seizures continued. My husband, daughter, and I witnessed a 17-minute seizure. When we called 911 (After his first dose of the rescue med) we were told "Please wait, we are experiencing an extremely high call volume. Please wait, we are experiencing an extremely high call volume." Sheer panic went through my veins as we were told to wait in the biggest emergency of our lives. This was the beginning of the COVID pandemic in the US. Finally, the 911 operator was online and dispatched the ambulance. The ambulance arrived 7 minutes later. At this time, we had witnessed 15 minutes of seizure activity (but will never know the length due to walking in to find him that way).
Needless to say, I (and my family) was traumatized. The seizure finally stopped after two doses of rectal diastat and an IM dose of versed. We arrived at St. Paul Children's prior to 10 am, were admitted to the 5th floor, load with IV Keppra, hooked up to EEG, and spent the day watching our son sleep. He was exhausted, we were exhausted and terrified of the unknowns. It was my baby's third birthday, and he had no idea where he was. I remember thinking nothing would be better than to have my son wake up. I needed to see him awake to know that he was okay. I had no idea if his brain was affected. I NEEDED him to wake up. He'd finally woken up later in the evening and I was blown away at the person he was. He was restless, he was moody, he was NOT my sweet blond curly-haired, blue-eyed boy.
Change of shift happened and I met Amy. She was going to be our nurse for the 12-hour night as well as the charge nurse for the floor. Right away I could tell she was a compassionate, knowledgeable soul. I told her I was worried about my son and his behavior. She validated my concerns and also reminded me that he had numerous medications that day that he had never had before. That reminder helped take some of my worries away. It was within a few hours that knowledge wasn't enough for me to calm the worry. He began to scream, thrash about, roll around in his bed, which was a nightmare because keeping an IV in, and EEG leads in place with a wild child was a full-time job.
Amy could hear my son from the hallway and came to check on us. She offered him food and called the hospitalists to come to see my son and see what options we had. I remember telling Amy through tears, "This isn't my son. I cannot take a child home that is acting like this. My other kids will not recognize their brother." Amy reassured me again that I would not be taking a child home acting like this. We needed to give his body time to adjust to the medications and rest. After hours of restlessness and screaming outbursts, Amy could tell that I needed help. She was able to get the CSA to come in and sit with my son, untangle his lines while he was restless, talk with him, entertain him with a movie, and keep him safe. I was able to catch an hour or two of much-needed sleep. I would never have asked for help, but Amy just knew it was needed. She was an angel. She witnessed me at my worst, during the most stressful experience as a parent. I had the ability to tell her thank you, but that just did not seem like enough...
As time went by and I was further out from the traumatic experience, I was able to process what had happened that day. Amy was so receptive to what I needed but was not willing to ask for. What seemed like small gestures to her, were extreme acts of kindness and compassion for a mother who had just had the worst day of her life. I just wanted to let Amy know that not a day goes by that I don't think of her and the wonderful care she gave to me, my son, and my family.
My son had previously had three "minor" seizures. We had had 2 previous overnight stays with EEGs, neurology, and genetic consults. We had met with neurology and genetics 9 days prior to this to determine why he had was having them. No cause had been determined and we had left with a plan to investigate hypoglycemia as a cause.
On his 3rd birthday he never really woke up. I walked into his room and he was having a tonic/clonic seizure. We administered his rescues meds and the seizures continued. My husband, daughter, and I witnessed a 17-minute seizure. When we called 911 (After his first dose of the rescue med) we were told "Please wait, we are experiencing an extremely high call volume. Please wait, we are experiencing an extremely high call volume." Sheer panic went through my veins as we were told to wait in the biggest emergency of our lives. This was the beginning of the COVID pandemic in the US. Finally, the 911 operator was online and dispatched the ambulance. The ambulance arrived 7 minutes later. At this time, we had witnessed 15 minutes of seizure activity (but will never know the length due to walking in to find him that way).
Needless to say, I (and my family) was traumatized. The seizure finally stopped after two doses of rectal diastat and an IM dose of versed. We arrived at St. Paul Children's prior to 10 am, were admitted to the 5th floor, load with IV Keppra, hooked up to EEG, and spent the day watching our son sleep. He was exhausted, we were exhausted and terrified of the unknowns. It was my baby's third birthday, and he had no idea where he was. I remember thinking nothing would be better than to have my son wake up. I needed to see him awake to know that he was okay. I had no idea if his brain was affected. I NEEDED him to wake up. He'd finally woken up later in the evening and I was blown away at the person he was. He was restless, he was moody, he was NOT my sweet blond curly-haired, blue-eyed boy.
Change of shift happened and I met Amy. She was going to be our nurse for the 12-hour night as well as the charge nurse for the floor. Right away I could tell she was a compassionate, knowledgeable soul. I told her I was worried about my son and his behavior. She validated my concerns and also reminded me that he had numerous medications that day that he had never had before. That reminder helped take some of my worries away. It was within a few hours that knowledge wasn't enough for me to calm the worry. He began to scream, thrash about, roll around in his bed, which was a nightmare because keeping an IV in, and EEG leads in place with a wild child was a full-time job.
Amy could hear my son from the hallway and came to check on us. She offered him food and called the hospitalists to come to see my son and see what options we had. I remember telling Amy through tears, "This isn't my son. I cannot take a child home that is acting like this. My other kids will not recognize their brother." Amy reassured me again that I would not be taking a child home acting like this. We needed to give his body time to adjust to the medications and rest. After hours of restlessness and screaming outbursts, Amy could tell that I needed help. She was able to get the CSA to come in and sit with my son, untangle his lines while he was restless, talk with him, entertain him with a movie, and keep him safe. I was able to catch an hour or two of much-needed sleep. I would never have asked for help, but Amy just knew it was needed. She was an angel. She witnessed me at my worst, during the most stressful experience as a parent. I had the ability to tell her thank you, but that just did not seem like enough...
As time went by and I was further out from the traumatic experience, I was able to process what had happened that day. Amy was so receptive to what I needed but was not willing to ask for. What seemed like small gestures to her, were extreme acts of kindness and compassion for a mother who had just had the worst day of her life. I just wanted to let Amy know that not a day goes by that I don't think of her and the wonderful care she gave to me, my son, and my family.