I thought that my precious grandson, Moises, would die in my arms after he suffered a seizure at just two years old. He had an ear infection and was asleep on the living room floor when I stopped by with my mother to see my daughter, Tina, and her newborn baby girl, Hannah. 

At the end of our visit, I told Tina we’d let ourselves out. She was in her bedroom feeding the baby. 

We walked into the living room and saw Mosey on the floor shaking violently. His eyes were open wide with fear and confusion. I yelled to my daughter to call 911. Mosey’s lips were becoming a bluish-grey color. I knelt on the floor at his feet and held his flailing arms down over his head as I lowered my body over his. The force of Mosey’s seizure caused his small body to thrust against me as I struggled to hold him still. 

Tina bolted from her room to phone for help. She related the instructions the emergency operator was giving to her. “Strip his clothes off, roll him over to his side so he doesn’t choke on his vomit and apply cold water with towels to his body!” 

I was going through the motions, all the time saying to myself… This can’t really be happening! This can’t really be happening!!! 

I desperately wanted Tina to trade places with me. I was afraid I may not perform the life-saving tasks perfectly. I soon changed my mind at the sound of the panic cries in Tina’s voice that singe my heart. I somehow contained my terror while I witnessed this precious little boy’s body convulsing. All the while I pleaded with God to release us from this nightmare. 

Suddenly, the back door opened and five firemen came in with military-like precision. I got up and reluctantly left Mosey’s side to let the rescue workers take his vital signs and work to get him stable. 

I found my mother in a corner of the room looking pale and crying hysterically. As much as I wanted to go in the ambulance with Mosey and Tina, I had to stay with my mother. I told Tina that I’d care for baby until my son- in –law got home. I felt terror grip every fiber of my by being. I had to get my mother home and give her sedatives. Soon my son-in-law arrived and he took the baby with him to the hospital. It was time for her feeding and she needed her mother and my son in-law needed to be with his wife and his son. 

I hurriedly drove my mother to her house before I went home to get my husband, so we could drive to the E.R. together. He looked stoic. I was feeling an odd emotional numbness. We drove in eerie silence. 

At the hospital we learned that Mosey had a febrile or heat-induced seizure brought on by rapid rising body temperature. It caused the electrical activity of the brain to become irregular, resulting in loss of body control. 

Amazingly, several hours later Mosey was back home with his mom, dad, baby sister, his papa and me. His fever was remarkably lower. He was a little weak but plenty happy and wanted pizza. So, of course, we ordered pizza.

When the pizza arrived we sat around the coffee table to eat. I was overcome by a deluge of tears as I let myself remember my deepest fear… that this evening would be about making funeral arrangements for our two-year-old grandson. Instead, here we were eating pizza.

Tears of relief and gratitude flowed as I looked at Mosey’s pepperoni and marinara sauce stained face. Then, I became hungry for pizza too. Though mine was sprinkled with salty tears, pizza never tasted so good to me.

Yolanda Adele is a member of the writing class offered through the Cerritos College Adult Education Program. It is held off-campus at the Norwalk Senior Center.