The Worst Day of Our Lives

Kayla and I endured the worst day of our lives four years ago today. We nearly lost our special boy.

Hudson was born with a common physical condition that required an outpatient procedure to resolve. We were apprehensive about putting Hudson under anesthesia (who was under two years old) but were assured that the procedure was routine and that he would have a quick recovery. We scheduled the surgery in Rochester, and hoped for the best.

The day before his surgery was a great one. We opted to go up a day earlier and stay the night, to prevent us from having to leave home at 6am the day of his procedure. We took Hudson to the Museum of Play in Rochester, swam in the hotel pool, and grabbed dinner from Red Robin. Hudson quickly became obsessed with the red balloon he got there, and he carried it all over the hotel room that night.

We went to the Children's Hospital early the next morning for his procedure. Kayla and I were nervous as could be, but Hudson wasn't phased at all by the hospital. He was such a calm, quiet baby; never disturbed by anything. Three hours later, he was out of surgery and in the recovery room.

Kayla and I waited another hour to be discharged. When Hudson started to wake from his anesthesia, Kayla was able to hold and snuggle him. Everything seemed perfectly fine, and we were told that the surgery "went great."

Shortly after, we loaded him up in the car and began our two hour drive home. Hudson was quiet on the ride home, sleeping most of the way. Everything seemed peaceful - and our worries subsided. Or so we thought.

It was nearly dinner time when we got home, and Hudson hadn't eaten anything since the night before his surgery. We put him in his high chair as soon as we walked in the door, and noticed that he was shivering. He wasn't crying or fussing, and we began to rub his arms and back to relax him. His skin felt like fire. I rushed to grab the thermometer, and what it read put us in a panic. 107 degrees!!

We immediately called the on-call nurse for his doctor's office, and were advised to call 911 immediately. First Responders arrived within minutes, and an ambulance came shortly thereafter. Kayla and I watched silently as the medics worked on Hudson before transporting him to our local hospital. While they hooked up his IVs and monitoring devices, we were told that he would have to be transported back to the Children's Hospital in Rochester. Unfortunately, there was no immediate transport available; we had to wait a couple of hours for a local ambulance service to agree to take him.

Around 11pm, Kayla and Hudson were on their way to Rochester in the ambulance, and I in our car. We were admitted into the Emergency Room while we waited for a room to open up in the hospital. The ER was packed, and Kayla and I were exhausted. It would be a few more hours before we would have a room available. Kayla and I spent those hours rotating sleeping in a plastic chair against the wall and attempting to comfort Hudson, who had become quite agitated and overwhelmed at that point.

Early the next morning we were taken to a spacious room on a wing in the Children's Hospital. There was a special bed for Hudson, a large recliner, and a small sofa by the window. Right outside his room was a refrigerator full of milk, pudding, and Jello. We were told to help ourselves to anything we needed.

Various tests had been taken the night before, and we anxiously awaited those results. Hudson's fever had leveled off, and we were all finally able to get some much-needed sleep. Doctor after doctor came in to check on him, and we were told that the tests found nothing to indicate the cause of his fever. Under the advisement of his doctors, we stayed in the hospital two more days to monitor his condition.

The ride home from the hospital was as nearly as quiet as the first one was. Hudson was back to his normal self the next day, almost as if nothing had happened.

A few months later is when we first started to notice his developmental delays. When he was officially diagnosed with Autism, I couldn't help but wonder if his high fever back then damaged his development in some way. Had we caused this by having his surgery performed? In retrospect, I realize I felt this way because I was trying to blame myself for his diagnosis. I know it sounds silly, but I couldn't help but feel it at the time. And there is nothing scientifically that proves a high fever causes Autism. It’s genetic, and he was always going to be on the Spectrum.

Luckily for us, Hudson doesn't remember any of this ordeal. Kayla and I will never forget; we still have the dump truck toy that I bought him from the hospital gift shop. It reminds me that his life is precious, and can be taken away from us in an instant. We have friends who have gone through similar medical scares with their children, and were not so lucky as we were. Our heart breaks for them everyday.

We would gladly take Hudson at his worst days than to ever have to go through this scare again.