LONDON—I’ve written about the joyful firsts that I’ve experienced with our daughter Charlotte in this space before, but this past week, we’ve unfortunately experienced some sad, scary firsts.
Charlotte’s first seizure. Her first ambulance ride. Her first overnight in the hospital. Her first MRI scan.
It all started last Thursday, when Charlotte threw up twice; after breakfast, and just before bedtime. She was in good spirits after both bouts, and with no other symptoms, she slept soundly through the night. Friday started out normally. But at 10:30 a.m., my husband rushed into our bedroom with a limp little girl, eyes rolled back in her head and lips blue, in his arms, shouting to call 911. We heard the ambulance siren before we were off the phone with the operator, and Charlotte and I rode up to our hospital together.
She was quite tired after her seizure, and fell asleep in Andrew’s arms while on the examining table. A thorough examination by Dr. Johnston and bloodwork revealed nothing wrong, and there was no trigger incident, such as a fever or a bad blow to the head. But no news wasn’t good news, for at 12:30, after waking up, Charlotte had another seizure. It was less than a minute long (like the first one), but it felt like hours had passed before it was over.
Immediately, the order was in to transfer us to Stratford or London. The Children’s Hospital at London Health Sciences Centre would take us, so into the ambulance we went – me, my daughter, the same two EMS attendants of crew #1506, Dr. Johnston and nurse Elaine (their presence was a pleasant and reassuring surprise). It was a terse ride, despite attempts at small talk and jokes about all the railroad tracks drivers have to cross to get to London.
I cannot stress how important it is for motorists to pull over when an ambulance is approaching with its siren and lights on. From what the attendants told us, fewer and fewer people are pulling over for ambulances, and that’s shocking. How selfish can people be that they believe their destination is more important than life or death?
The Children’s Hospital emergency ward was as busy as can be, but the nurses and staff were kind and patient with everyone, whether it was a boy with a broken hand or the mother of an infant who refused to breast-feed. It was a long wait for a physician to check Charlotte out. As I returned from the cafeteria with sandwiches at around 5:30, I could see on Andrew’s face that something bad happened while I was away. Another seizure. My heart plummeted.
We were soon admitted. It was a long night for all three of us. Charlotte kept setting off the alarms on her monitors as she was anxious and curious to explore her new surroundings. Andrew and I were just anxious; we’ve been staying overnight with her in her room each day.
Fitful night eventually turned into day. Being the weekend, things moved a little slower, but we did see a paediatric neurologist on Saturday morning, who wanted Charlotte to have an EEG scan (which measures electrical activity in the brain) and an MRI scan. She had a good day, eating well, playing and walking around the ward, investigating everything and everyone in her friendly way.
Other than vomiting early on Sunday morning (likely due to a seizure-relief drug), Charlotte now seems back to normal, and we’re cautiously optimistic that the three seizures she had on Friday were a freak event, possibly due to her being sick on Thursday – there’s nothing in her history that we’re aware of that could be causing them. Our optimism also grows as more time passes; she’s not had another seizure since Friday. Dr. Johnston and the physicians in London told us that between five and 10 per cent of all children experience seizures for one reason or another. In many cases, they just grow out of them with no lasting effects.
But we don’t know for sure, and that’s why I’m writing this column from London this week. It’s Sunday evening, and Charlotte has fallen asleep for the night after a busy day of visitors. She had her EEG scan on Saturday, and she will likely have her MRI tomorrow. We could be home as early as tomorrow night, which would feel wonderful, but I would miss the security of being in a hospital. If both scans reveal nothing, that’s good news in one sense, but if there is something at play in Charlotte’s brain, we’d like it pinpointed for better or worse. We have entered a new realm of parenthood where any jerky movement Charlotte makes sends our heart rates through the roof, regardless of what it results in.
I hope you’ll understand why there’s no recipe this week, although there’s few things I’d appreciate now more than eating a meal I made myself in my own home. Instead, please say a little prayer for us and keep us in your thoughts. I’ll be sure to update Charlotte’s condition next week.

Editor’s note: if you have a history of pediatric seizures, you’re welcome to contact Andrea at andrea.macko@gmail.com to share your story.