Losing a child brings many tough and challenging days. Just when you think you’re starting to heal, something will rip the band aid off and the process will start all over.

September 1, 2015 began as what seemed like a typical day. Never in my wildest dreams could I have imagined the way the day would unfold. We didn’t know it then, but this day would end up being our last ride on life flight, our last hospital admission, our last trip to Children’s ER, and what became the beginning of a whole new journey.

Sept. 1 we had just been home about a week from our last hospital stay. Zane was under the weather and we were trying to get a diagnosis from home, and not make another hospital trip. His pediatrician ordered blood work and his clinical manager came to draw the blood from home. We had been struggling for the last week trying to figure out just why Zane was so lethargic. His CM asked if we could take his blood sugar because of his symptoms. When the monitor was unable to read his level we immediately knew things were worse than we had expected. 911 was dialed and we began getting ready for the ambulance. Given Zane’s history, I didn’t have much to pack because we were always prepared. I grabbed what we needed and we headed down to wait for the helicopter.

Upon arriving at the hospital we were rushed into a trauma room in the ER. Lots of bloodwork was drawn and labs were sent. About an hour later several nurses and doctors swarmed the room. At this point we weren’t told anything yet. I just stepped put of the way while they started doing their thing. I remember one of the nurses saying his blood sugar is 1158, let’s start an insulin drip. We were immediately admitted.

(To be continued)