January 18, 2011

I have climbed the mountain

Eight days


It seems you can never get used to the emotional impact of almost losing your child no matter how many times you've found yourself in that position before.


friends  by Noa Fischer

This is the first time in my life that I was able to actually use the friendly energy bestowed upon me to help me. There was never a doubt that I would let myself be destroyed in striving to help Segev in such a critical state. I might come close to faltering but for the first time I was able to focus positive feelings from others and use it for my personal well-being. I stayed focused and fought with myself to rest when the agitation of worry made it nearly impossible to do so even after nights without sleep. 

For this I feel gratitude towards those that sent me their wishes for safety and health, thank you.

My post 'This is how we roll' is just a list, which of course does not contain a great deal of little details that make up the constant attention Segev required. The day described was absolutely one of the easier ones. Segev had just become ill and I couldn't know to what degree his illness would develop. 

All of last night Segev was still on Oxygen. With catnaps of up to ten minutes each I attended to his needs throughout last night, as a culmination of eight days of care. Treatment and inhalation after inhalation, physiotherapy and of course endless suctioning, his nose bleeding, still fighting for breath and having learned these past eight days to stop himself from coughing because it was so painful, and then finally at seven o'clock in the morning the moment came when he mustered the strength to displace a serious plug of mucus and began choking on it. Finally the "big" release that I had waited for and lethargic, with eyes having difficulty focusing, I suctioned as I have been suctioning all his life, all that night, but something was wrong. Nothing seemed to happen and Segev sputtered and choked. I called out for my eldest and he came immediately. While Segev couldn't breath I thought the tube must be blocked by mucus, it can't pull it out. I had to stay concentrated on Segev's mouth which by now was oozing part of what he was choking on. To add to my fear I couldn't tell if he had vomited as well. I shouted, 'it's not working, it's not working!'   Fortunately Shoval is trained and bent down to the machine, finding the tube had come lose and reconnected it. 

I didn't start screaming until after I finished clearing his airway. It was cursing but also a kind of primal scream. I let off some steam, none of it directed at a person, least of all Segev, but rather at the fucking equipment and the irony of it failing at that exact moment.

©2010 Noa Fischer

This morning Segev is doing so much better; he is reacting and without oxygen for the first time. Just now he has shown me his first smile after being unconscious for nearly the entirety of eight days and nights, with barely a few sparks of consciousness alighting to give cause for optimism.
Now it seems already long ago, though the ninth day has only just begun. The feeling of relief I have is powerful though without elation.
I know that in general Segev's condition continues to decline, there can be in his case no other outcome. His body steadily grows weaker despite titan efforts to slow it down.

This experience has shown me that my abilities are not what they once were. I have the fervent desire to learn from it in order to be more steady the next time. 


  1. I am so very happy that Segev is doing better. Without a doubt this is a credit to the tenacity of his spirit and the unyielding commitment of a very loving father. Our thoughts, from halfway around the world,are always with you. Hopefully, some very well deserved rest is in sight!

  2. I'm so sorry that you had such a tough night Segev is doing better. I think you are an amazing loving dad. Hope you get a good catnap too. Xxx

  3. You have been in my thoughts. I'm glad to hear that he's showing improvment.