“Call me as soon as you get a chance, bye!” That’s what I (Michael) read on my text message as I conducted a meeting a work. It was my wife. She told me that she had to use the Epipen on our son Ethan who was wheezing during an allergic reaction.
Earlier that day, my wife and the kids visited the Lady Bird Johnson Wildflower Center with friends from the library. They walked up and down hills full of flowers. “Hi, daddy!” was my son’s voice over the phone as I spoke to him during my lunch break. He was excited as he watched the butterflies. He was fine.
On the ride back home from the Wildflower Center, Ethan wasn’t feeling too well. “Mommy, I feel like raspberries.” – a keyword he uses to describe that he is feeling just as bad as raspberries make him feel. “I think I need the Epipen!”
“Okay, Ethan.” My wife replied as her heart turned to liquid and dripped to her feet like a red melting ice sickle. “Let’s get the Epipen!”
They pulled it out together and talk themselves through it – both feeling a little anxious. “All done!” My wife said as she pressed down on her shaky voice trying to hold it together.
Afterwards, they went to the hospital and Ethan was given more medicine. “I don’t feel like raspberries anymore.” said Ethan as he recovered successfully.
My wife pulls out her phone and sends me a text to call when I get a chance. 5:00 PM rolled around, and I receive a call. It’s my wife.
“I had to Epi Ethan and go to the hospital!” were the first calm words to hit my ear from my wife. I was shocked, but even tempered. “How’s he doing?” I said.
“He’s fine – taking a nap!”