Speaking of Easy

It has been an incredibly long week.

A week ago today, we found ourselves at the emergency vet with our bulldog, bracing for the worst. She had suddenly become completely disoriented and even peed in the house — something she has never done. At almost ten years old (which is senior status for a bulldog), we know we’re in bonus time. Flat face, joint issues, breathing challenges — this breed carries a lot.

She was shaking, breathing heavily, lethargic, and clearly miserable. So we didn’t hesitate. We headed straight in.

When they checked her vitals, everything looked normal. Stable. That should have reassured me, but it didn’t. We were placed at the end of the triage line, and as we waited, case after case came through the doors — dog bites, dogs hit by cars, dogs who couldn’t even stand. It was heartbreaking. I realized very quickly that I could never work in a vet’s office. The emotional weight is enormous.

After nearly two and a half hours, a vet assistant came out and gently told us it would be a long wait. Since she was stable, they offered us a morning appointment instead — we could walk right in, and the emergency fee would roll over at half the cost. It made sense. So we went home.

I barely slept that night. She whimpered a few times, and every sound jolted me awake. I kept worrying she wouldn’t make it until morning.

The next day, they sedated her and flushed her ears. The diagnosis: severe ear infections in both ears, with one deep in the middle ear. Painful, but treatable. We left with a bag full of medications — plus ointment for her cherry eyes — and a whole lot of relief.

A week later, she has her spark back. She’s trotting around like herself again and taking her meds like a champ. Don’t get me wrong – she still likes to get her nap on, but she is feeling so much better.

All is well in the bulldog world!

On Sunday, we celebrated my daughter’s 17th birthday — and it was such a fun day. She invited nine friends, and they started the afternoon at our favorite local chai spot for a craft party. The girls made “punch cards” for their New Year’s resolutions and attached them to the cutest little beaded keychains they designed themselves. It was creative, low-key, and perfectly her.

Afterward, they came back to our house for local burritos, chips and salsa, gift opening, and ice cream cake. The night ended with lots of laughter over Just Dance and a few intense rounds of Among Us.

It was joyful, easy, and exactly the kind of celebration a 17th birthday should be.

On Monday, she wasn’t feeling great. I assumed it was just exhaustion after a full birthday weekend. We had a Girl Scout Troop Dinner Party for badges that night – it was a Fancy Nancy theme with tea cups and dresses! Girls made all the food and it was really fun. Although she had a good time, you could tell she just wasn’t feeling it. But, we stayed and she got through it.

She woke me up getting sick later that night. She felt lightheaded and weak — and for a heart patient, those are red flags. I didn’t hesitate. I got dressed and drove her to the ER.

It was already close to 11 p.m., and the sign at the entrance warned us: average wait time, 1 hour and 39 minutes. Longest wait, nearly three hours. We checked in, had her vitals taken, and settled in to wait.

After about two hours, she said she was feeling better. The color was back in her face. The dizziness had eased. It felt eerily similar to the night at the emergency vet — stable, but still uncertain.

So we made the call to head home and follow up with her pediatrician in the morning instead.

We went to bed exhausted, but at least we had a plan.

On Tuesday, she was still feeling better, but we kept the pediatrician appointment anyway. The doctor said she looked okay, but she was concerned about the pattern of symptoms. She ordered bloodwork and an ultrasound. She also warned us that scheduling the ultrasound could take a week or two — and if things worsened, we should just go straight to the ER where imaging could be done immediately.

We hoped for the boring two-week wait. My daughter went back to school and work.

By Wednesday afternoon, that hope was gone.

When I picked her up from work, she looked pale. She said the pain had been coming and going all day — sometimes bad enough that she was doubled over. When I pressed on her right side and she started crying, my mind went straight to appendicitis. We grabbed a quick dinner and headed back to the ER.

The intake nurse recognized us. “Back again, eh?” he said.

This time we were seen quickly. The doctor was thorough and kind. They ran labs, ordered ultrasounds and a CT scan. She had a slight fever and repeated episodes of tachycardia. Around 3 a.m., they started antibiotics since everything pointed toward infection. She reacted with some itching, so they gave her Benadryl, and she finally slept.

They contacted her transplant hospital and told us she would be transported there in the morning.

We had arrived at 6:30 p.m. I left at 6:15 a.m. when my husband came to take over. I had slept 51 minutes in a rigid hospital chair. My back was screaming.

Then things took a turn.

The transport was delayed because the transplant hospital was short-staffed. They couldn’t find an alternate service. Suddenly, the daytime ER doctor told my husband they were planning to discharge her because she “seemed fine” and there was nothing more they could do. He added, “I’m not trying to make a joke, but you can’t go to Stanford every time you get a splinter.”

When my husband relayed that to me, something in me snapped. Exhaustion stripped away diplomacy. This wasn’t a splinter. This was a medically fragile kid with a transplant history, tachycardia, fever, and unresolved pain.

I called Stanford myself. They were not pleased. They called the ER and made it clear she should not be discharged and absolutely should not travel without monitoring and medical support available.

Sometimes doctors forget that parents of complex kids are not being dramatic — we are being informed.

Eventually, a helicopter transported her down. My husband drove separately. I took yesterday off and worked from home today.

Right now, they suspect ulcerative colitis or possibly Crohn’s disease. A colonoscopy is scheduled for Monday or Tuesday. Because of her cardiac history and the tachycardia episodes, they’ll use cardiac anesthesia rather than standard GI sedation. We’re hopeful that this will finally bring some answers.

She’s relatively comfortable at the moment. That feels like a gift.

My husband is understandably stir-crazy, so I’ll head down tomorrow to trade places for the weekend. He’ll come home for a few days, then head back so I can return to work next week. It’s a relay race of parenting.

My students have had more time outside of class than usual between a conference and now this. But life doesn’t schedule emergencies politely. I can support them online. I can adjust.

Being with my daughter is the priority. The rest will sort itself out.

So, the week ends with a relatively healthy bulldog and a hospitalized, but relatively healthy child. I am hoping for good news after the colonoscopy. I haven’t done hospital time in almost a decade (her last stay was 9 days when she was 8 – after receiving her pacemaker). I’m hoping this one is less than a week and continues to be comfortable and relatively happy.