Terrifying -- Absolutely Terrifying

With shunt malfunctions, one can go from thriving, and showing no symptoms, to deteriorating quickly and in an coma within a matter of hours. Shunt malfunctions can be fatal, so when your child has a shunt, and you suspect a shunt malfunction, it feels like you're fighting the clock for your life, or your child's life, more accurately.

During the drive down, at first I was driving and Joe was in the back with Mira trying to keep her awake. By a half an hour into the drive, Joe was having a difficult time preventing her from falling asleep, so we pulled off in Grove City. I got her out of the car, into the cold air, and got her to wake up for a while. When I thought I could keep her awake, we got back in, and Joe and I switched. He started driving and I stayed in the back with Mira to keep her awake. For about 15 minutes, everything was okay, but by Slippery Rock, she wouldn't stay awake.

I would shake her shoulder every 15 seconds or so, and say "Mira, wake up!"  But it hit a point, where she would only wake up for a split second to whimper in pain, and wouldn't even open her eyes. Then she stopped responding to me entirely.

In this moment, I thought my daughter was slipping into a coma before my very eyes, beneath my own hand, and there was nothing I could do about it. I was terrified. Truly terrified in every cell of my body. I kept my hand on her chest to make sure she was still breathing. Tears were streaming down my face as I called Pittsburgh. I was getting ready to have an ambulance and helicopter meet us on the Interstate. 

Right as a neurosurgeon got on the phone, Mira woke up and looked up at me. I squeezed my eyes shut, and exhaled in the most relieving sigh I've ever felt in my life. Thank God, was the audible sound of my sigh, and I kept eye contact with her after I could open my eyes again.I described to the doctor what was occurring, and that we were roughly an hour away. He said as long as she is responding, it's okay, and that an ambulance and hellicopter probably wouldn't be able to get to us any quicker than we could get to the hospital at this point, so to just keep her responding to me, and get there immediately.

For the rest of the ride, I thought we were racing against the clock before she slipped into a coma. I was terrified. I kept checking the responsiveness of her pupils with my penlight, shaking her shoulder, making her look at me, checking her breath sounds, and trying not to allow myself to be overcome by the shear terror I was actually feeling.

We finally got to the hospital, and she was still responsive. Thank God.