It was an overcast day in Murrieta. Sprinkling here and there. Nolan was at school and Taylor and I were getting ready for the day. Taking showers and picking up the house while our little ones Lincoln (2) and Dylan (11 months) crawled around getting into everything. Making messes. It was just like any other morning. As I was putting towels away I heard the sound of about 100, colorful, round little BB pellets (air soft gun pellets) come in contact with a metal tin. I could hear the little balls bounce about as the kids beat the upside down metal bin like a drum. The "drum" usually served as Nolan's laundry basket. There is something about being in your own home. Knowing the sounds. Without seeing, you know exactly what your kids are getting into. I shoved the towels in the cupboard. And hurried over to remove the kids from what is obviously a choking hazard. But I was too late.
I came up behind Dylan and noticed that he had already managed to stick a tiny green BB pellet into his mouth. I reached in to get it but he refused tossing his head backward while breathing in to protest. In with his breath went the tiny green pellet. Having 3 boys I wasn't worried. I figured it was swallowed. "Linky, get out of the room so we can pick up this big mess." That is when I noticed Dylan was breathing but not how he should be. He was gasping for breath. I yelled for my husband "Taylor, I think you should grab the phone. We might have to call 911. Dylan looks like he is choking." I turned him over, hit his back and nothing. He is still gasping for breath. "CALL 911!" Taylor calls from his cell which routes him to an automated message to highway patrol. I go into auto pilot. Turning Dylan over again trying to thrust against his back to unlodge this little piece of plastic that won't allow my baby to breathe. Taylor finds my phone and reaches 911. I turn Dylan over and he is turning blue. Secretions are coming out of his mouth. He has tears streaming down his face. My baby can't breathe. In my pajamas I run down our 3 flights of stairs and out the garage door. Holding my baby who is tuckering out. He starts to black out when I reach the garage. Again, I try any rescue methods I can think of. This thing inside him is not budging. It is stuck. I start talking to Dylan as I run out of the garage. "You are NOT allowed to die. They are coming to help you. WAKE UP!"
I knew that our complex can be confusing so I started off in a sprint to get Dylan onto the main street. I can here the ambulance in the distance. I tried the heimlich maneuver again. "LISTEN! Do you hear that? It's FOR YOU. They are coming for YOU! BREATHE!" Half way to the front gates Dylan went limp in my arms. He was turning blue again. I set him down on the cold, wet concrete and started blowing into his little mouth and nose. After a few breaths. He started to cry. His color came back and he was still struggling to breathe. I met the ambulance outside our complex gates. They tried to tell me they had to wait for a carseat to transport him. No way. We weren't waiting. The rescue breaths I had given him had helped just enough for them to think it wasn't an emergency but it didn't last long. He started to tucker out again. They jumped in the fire truck holding Dylan in their arms and took off. Didn't wait for the carseat or even the ambulance. Taylor hung up with 911, grabbed Lincoln and we took off in a race to the hospital. He was given oxygen in the fire truck.
We arrive in the ER and things got hectic quickly. The room filled with people. Sterile packages are being ripped open. My baby is on a bed being held down while someone at each hand and foot is searching for a place to start a line. Propofol finally entering his veins keeping him calm and sedated. Oxygen being administered. Now to intubate him. Being that the hospital is new they were not prepared for a baby. We sit watching as a team tries to put a tube down Dylan's throat to stabilize his airway. They can't get it. They are starting to sweat. Their hands are shaking. My baby still has an obstruction in his lungs and the minutes are ticking by. 10 minutes, 20 minutes, 30 minutes. I excuse myself to go to the bathroom. I don't know if I am going to soil my pants, vomit or pass out. Is my baby going to die? It's been over a half an hour. If they save him can he possibly be the same? I head back to the room. 40 minutes, 50 minutes. It takes an hour for a team of I don't know how many to FINALLY get his airway secure. The room goes calm. One by one the nurses and staff walk out of the room. There are bits of paper, plastic and tubing on the floor. IV's in both arms, a catheter, tube in his throat, wires all over the place My Dylan is on the bed hooked up to machines that are breathing for him, keeping him alive.
I'm numb. My family is in the waiting room. To this day I don't know how they found out. A nurse pulls Taylor and I into the hall to tell us that Dylan's oxygen levels remained high. Weather permitting Dylan needed to be life flighted by helicopter immediately to a hospital that was equipped for children. And then it started to rain.
We waited from about 11am until about 6pm. Holding his hand. Talking to him. Holding each other's hands. Praying that he would be okay. Finally an ambulance team arrived to transport Dylan to Rady's Children's Hospital. Taylor and I followed the ambulance in Friday night traffic towards San Diego in the rain.
We were told his transport went perfectly. Once there, the team quickly went into action and took him to the ER where they scoped for the foreign object and removed it. It was that or surgery so we were SO happy they found it. The pellet was just the perfect size to block the opening to the ENTIRE right side of Dylan's lungs. It was wedged in so tight that it wasn't allowing air in or out. (we were told later that it was just big enough to not fall into the lung and also just the right size to "cap" the lung so it wouldn't collapse. They tried taking him off the respirator but he wasn't able to breathe on his own so they re-intubated him until the next day. He fought that thing like crazy. They maxed his meds but the higher the dose the more his blood pressure dropped so we just had to help him through his rough moments of gagging on the tube. It was horrible. I was so happy to see that damn thing out of his throat. Once they took it out he took a while to come off his sedation meds. He nursed as soon as he was alert enough. He was SOOO happy to nurse. It's all he wanted to do. It was all I wanted to do too. ♥ This is from the day we got home- "He is doing amazing and recovering more and more each hour. He has been playing, babbling and chasing his brothers around. It's been a long weekend. I don't want to put him down. Hearing him breathe is the sweetest sound."
