Paul’s Story

My youngest son was born on August 12, 1974. Weighing in at 10 lbs 7 oz. he was a big healthy boy and a brand new baby brother for our two year old son, David. We named him Paul, but for most of his childhood years he was known as Paulie.

Even way back then I loved to walk. In my mind’s eye I can see the three of us heading out for a stroll, my oldest riding his tricycle, my new baby carried close to my heart in his Snugli baby carrier. It was on one of these outings that I first noticed that Paulie seemed a little out of sorts and appeared to be sniffling with a runny nose. I was a little concerned, but not overly so. This was not my first experience nursing a child with a cold.

Just that week we had made plans to visit my sister, Dianne, in Victoria for the upcoming Thanksgiving weekend. If Paulie’s cold didn’t go away we would have to cancel the trip, but that was still five days away.

By the day of our planned road trip to Victoria, Paulie’s sniffles had all but disappeared. So off we went. Our little family loaded the ferry and started our weekend getaway to lovely Vancouver Island. The first day was wonderful. We visited and got caught up with Dianne, her new hubby and our many friends in Victoria. The second day Paulie awoke feeling warm. On close inspection I noticed a fine rash covering his back and trunk. Alarmed, we immediately loaded him into the car and drove to the Victoria Hospital ER. Being a long weekend the emergency waiting room was full. I sat there, holding my baby, struggling to contain my fears. We should have stayed home.. I knew he was just getting over a cold. What was that rash? He felt so warm.

After waiting for what seemed to be an eternity, we were ushered into an examination room. A young medical doctor carefully examined my then crying Paulie. Yes.. there was a rash. Yes .. he did have a bit of a fever.

“Looks like the measles.. although not usually seen in a baby so young. Nothing to worry about. Here is a medication for the fever. Have your family doctor see him when you get home”

Relieved, we filled the prescription and headed back to my sisters. We fed the baby, gave him his medication, and tucked him in for a nap. While he slept we made plans to catch the first ferry in the morning and return home.

In the morning Paul looked better.. the rash had subsided. Nonetheless I was anxious to get home and arrange an appointment with my own family doctor. With hugs and kisses we said our goodbyes and headed to our home in Aldergrove on the mainland. We boarded the first morning ferry. I felt relief.

Shortly into the journey, Paulie started to cry. Nothing I did seemed to comfort him. He did not want to eat. I could not get him to settle or sleep. Then, while changing his diaper, I noticed something out of the ordinary. Was it my imagination or did his little cries intensify every time I lifted his left leg. Yes.. I was right.. moving his left leg seemed to cause him pain. OMG.. what is the matter with my baby .. we must get home right away.

With renewed fear, we drove directly from the ferry dock to the emergency room in Langley, B.C. Again the ER was busy with the traffic of a long weekend. Again fear gripped my heart as I sat and held my crying son. Again I was finally ushered into a small examining room. The doctor that entered shortly afterwards looked tired and gruff. He quickly examined my son and turned to me and simply said… “He’s fine”. I tried to explain to him my suspicion that he was experiencing pain in his leg but my comments were brushed aside as was my suggestion that maybe he should have an x-ray. This impatient doctor, intern, or whatever he was, as much as told me that I was over reacting and I should just take my baby home.

I remember feeling totally chastised. Was I just being a neurotic mother? Was I over reacting? Was he really OK?

The next morning Paulie did seem a little better. He ate better and slept, but I still harboured a nagging doubt. I still felt that there was something not quite right with his leg. Admittedly he no longer cried when I manipulated it.. but I thought I could feel a slight resistance in the range of motion. The doctor had said he was fine. He must know. I do worry too much.

The following day I reached into the crib to lift my perfect little boy into my arms. My fingers touched his skin and I quickly placed his forehead against my own. My goodness.. he was hot. With panicking fingers I dialed my family doctor. With trembling hands I buckled my baby into the car seat and headed down the highway to our doctors office in Langley. After a short examination he turned to face me, concern in his eyes. “Your son is very sick. He needs to see a specialist.” I waited, in shock, while his nurse made the arrangements for Paulie to be seen by a pediatric specialist in Surrey, B.C. Fear gripping my insides I once more bundled up my baby boy and we headed off to another hospital 30 miles away.

This time there was no long wait to be seen. On arrival, we were immediately shown into the awaiting doctors examining room. My hands still trembling, I undressed Paulie and explained the events that had led us here. He listened and quietly examined my boy. His face had that concerned look about it. When he finished he asked to speak to us in his office. While holding Paulie in my arms I listened to him explained that yes, Paulie was indeed very ill. He had a very bad infection. What the source was, he was not completely sure.. but Paulie would have to be admitted to hospital.

I lack the words to describe how I felt at that moment. I somehow found the strength to follow the nurse as she led the way to the pediatric ward. I watched as the nurse undressed my son, shaved the tiny little bit of hair from the side of his head and inserted an IV into his scalp. After numerous x-rays, pokes, and needles, antibiotics were started.

The next day the pediatrician asked to speak with me. He had some startling news. Apparently, when Paul was born, there had been an outbreak of a staph infection within the nursery. Three babies became ill. He hypothesized that Paul had also come in contact with the infection.. but within Paul, the bacteria laid dormant and did not display any outward symptoms. The cold that Paulie had initially experienced had weakened his immune system, allowing the bacteria to take hold. The fever and rash were, in hindsight, the first indicators of the infection. The xray and tests now showed that the bacteria had localized in his left hip causing an Osteomyelitis.. an infection in the bone of the hip socket. Surgery was needed to drain the infection. Large doses of antibiotics would be needed to fight the infection. We were in for a long haul.

The surgery to explore the hip and drain the infection was done the next day. Afterwards, I stood looking down at the many tubes and drains coming from this wee tiny baby. I put the side of the crib down and reached in to touch him . He grasped my finger with his tiny hand. He smiled. I placed my arm around his chubby little body, rested my head on the crib mattress beside him and cried .. and prayed. Please God, please, please help my baby.

I prayed a lot those days. It did not matter where I was or what I was doing.. I prayed. Please God, please please.

Paul had been in the hospital for 30 days when a nurse came by his bedside to say that the pediatrician wished to speak with me. I was led from my son’s crib to the doctor’s office. I sat still in the chair.. waiting for his words. He began by telling me how severe the infection had been and how they felt they had done all that they could do at this time. He felt the infection was now under control.. but in all likelihood the infection may have left its mark. He felt Paulie was ready for discharge but I needed to be aware of what may be in our future. Although the infection had lodged in his hip there was the risk that it may have also affected other areas.. including the brain. There was a chance that Paulie could develop hydrocephalus and have mental challenges. There was also the chance that the growth plate of the left leg may have been affected .. his leg may never develop. The plan would be for Paulie to be followed closely on a monthly basis by a specialist. Other than that, he was ready to be discharged from the hospital come the afternoon.

Here I was, a young 24 year old mother, sitting alone, in a doctors office hearing these awfully words. I thanked the doctor for all his efforts, shock his hand, left the room, walked down the hall. Walking back towards my son’s hospital room, I felt in a daze. I tried desperately to absorb and comprehend the words I had just heard. Suddenly, I could walk no further.. my legs crumbled as I leaned against the wall.. I broke into sobs. I could no longer contain the fear, the worry. Tears rolled down my face as I tried to cover my eyes with my hands. I could feel gentle hands guide my shoulders. A kind nurse helped me sit into a chair. She asked if she could be of assistance. I said I needed to make a phone call. I made two calls that day. The first was to my husband. The second was to my mom in Winnipeg. My husband came immediately to the hospital. My mom flew out to Aldergrove the next day.

That afternoon we took our 3 month old son home. In our hands where prescriptions for on going antibiotics and an appointment date to see a specialist.

Time passed. Paul appeared to be doing well. He ate, he slept, he giggled and cooed. At our first follow up appointment we were told that Paul appeared to be developing normally.. come back in a month.

And so we did.. every month for six months. At the six month appointment the doctor once more examined Paul, his growth and development. X-rays were done .. bone length measured. As I dressed Paul after the exam the doctor smiled and said he had some good news. Paul’s development appeared to be as normal as normal could be. The x-rays of his hip did show that it was shallow and not properly developed but the leg was growing and his mental and physical development fit the average for his age. He said, and I quote, “Your son is a little miracle”. He actually said those words.. “a little miracle”. There are no words to describe the relief and joy that filled my heart. My Paulie was going to be OK.

And so it was.. every six months.. and then every year, Paul (no longer Paulie) visited an Orthopedic surgeon to be x-rayed and measured. The end result is that his left leg is 1/2 inches shorter than the right and his left hip is poorly developed. He was told at the age of twenty that he needed hip replacement surgery. When he should have it has been left up to him. The deciding factors are the pain he lives with and the fact that once he has the surgery he can no longer play hockey.

Through all of this my son has amazed me. I know he often lives with pain. Occasionally his hip has slipped out of the socket. I remember one occasion when I received a phone call at 2:00 am. It was Paul asking if I could come and drive him to the hospital. His hip had slipped out while he was sleeping. I drove to his place in the middle of the night wondering how I was ever going to get him into the car and to the hospital. When I arrived at his home he somehow managed to walk to the car with his leg unsupported by his hip joint. The angle of the leg was almost to much for a mother’s eyes to witness.. but we managed to get him into the car and to the emergency room. Once there, they loaded him up with Demerol and popped his leg back into the joint. Two days later he was playing hockey. I remember being so very proud and so very afraid all at the same time.

This year my son will turn 32. He continues to play hockey, roller blade, bike, run.. but this morning the ringing of the phone roused me from my sleep.

“Mom.. what is the number for Dr. H*****.”

“Whats the matter, Paul. Is your hip bothering you?”

“Yes.”

“Maybe its time Paul.”

“Ya, I know Mom.. I am going to give him a call.”