Lucky doesn't seem to cover it when your child dances yet again with death.

Last Thursday at his first time at summer camp, our youngest son William went into cardiopulmonary arrest due to a tracheal displacement - all fancy ways of saying he died on my lap after the tube that he breathes through in his throat came out. Thank goodness for quick thinking and an amazing team that came together, we were able to bring him back and were rushed off for medical attention, first at our local hospital and then at our children's hospital which is our home away from home.

The first few days were full of worry and anxiety, and a ton of guilt. This was the second time my son died on me - well the first was his birth so technically that was in me but close enough. Worry and anxiety because we knew he had gone two to three minutes without oxygen so we were not sure what the damage would be. His responses were sluggish and unfocussed so it was hard to know anything in the beginning.

Then reassuring things began to happen, extremely early on all things considering. His 24 EEG showed there was no more seizure activity (as he had started seizures on the way to the local hospital and while there). This was huge. Then when he had his first neurological exam we also had some reassurance. His eyes had gone sluggish in their response the first day, but the day after injury they were equally responsive. He also let the doc know he did not want the eyes shined in his eyes an reacted on each limb when they were tickled. Sluggish a bit - but responsive.

On the fourth day after the event, William was pretty darn close to his baseline. He became fiesty and let everyone know he was not happy about one of his treatments. (He has large granulomas - think kind of a blister filled with tissue that had grown around the hole where his breathing tube goes in. They are needing to be burned off and it is not so pleasant)

and then last night, five nights after the event we met with the Neurology Doctors and heard the best news ever, that he has proven again what an incredible survivor he is and since he is already back at baseline it means there is no significant damage and it looks like there will be no lasting effects. The doctor asked me 'so do you feel lucky?' because the reality is that the survival rate is one in ten for those needing resuscitation in the community when their heart stops working.

Lucky doesn't begin to cover it. Yes. Because we were at the perfect place for it to happen with a nurse close by to help me and a team of staff that came together and acted as one to protect the other campers and support the life saving efforts of my son, including getting a defibrillator set up if we had needed it. Because I was practiced and knowledgeable enough to get his trach back in (sounds awful but when the ENT doctor came to me the next day after doing a scope and having to re-insert his tube herself said she wasn't sure how I had since she had trouble doing it as well). Because being a kid who breathes through his neck we had oxygen and a resuscitation bag with us so right away I was able to be pumping 6 litres of oxygen in. Because the staff at the camp and our children's centre are incredible individuals. Because the paramedics, police, and medical staff are unbelievably dedicated individuals. Because we have a community of caring and loving individuals who surround us with their love and prayers on this roller coaster. Because our boy defies odds.

How do I feel? Well, I think Mr. Jelly Roll wherever you may be, you have put it best in your song 'I Am Not Okay'.......

"I know I can't be the only one who's holding on for dear life

But God knows, I know when it's all said and done

I'm not okay But it's all gonna be alright

It's not okay, But we're all gonna be alright"