When our kids are little, we become accustomed to taking action to make things better for them. When they scrape their knee, not only do we administer appropriate (or over-the-top) medical care, we also give them a kiss to make it better. On the first day of school, we hug them tight and tell them that it’s a great new adventure and they’re going to love it. Hugs are common on that traumatic day…and sometimes kisses to make it better.

We want our kids to feel safe and loved. We want them to know that we’re always there for them. We are the ones they look to when things turn sour, and we’re always prepared to take action to show them how much we care.

As parents, we’re doers.

Teenage breakup…we’re there to listen to them blubber about how the perfect boy just turned into the perfect scoundrel. We hug our little girl’s shoulders and kiss the top of her head. When they lose at sports, we’re the ones they sit with and mull over what went wrong and what more they could have done.

When they get fired from a job, we’re there to console them and help them make a plan for the next phase of their life. When a natural disaster hits and they’re forced to reassess their life and put the pieces back together, we’re right there alongside them, shouldering the burden so they don’t have to.

As I write this, I’m sitting in my 23 year old daughter’s town home in Lafayette, CO. There are beautiful mountains just outside the curtains. It’s sunny, bright, and has the makings for a gorgeous day. But I’m not out here to enjoy the weather or the scenery. Heck, 18 hours ago I didn’t know I would be here.

On Saturday H23 texted me with one of those heart-stopping texts that you sometimes get as a parent:

Going to ER. There is no urgent care. Will update.

That text came in at 8:04pm and I was on the phone with her by 8:05. My strong, vivacious, tough-as-nails daughter was barely able to speak through the tears of pain. She reported she had a migraine and was severely dehydrated. On Friday, she had traveled to Steamboat Springs, about three hours away from her home in Lafayette, to play in a volleyball tournament. She was unable to play due to the migraine, and had spent the entire day sleeping and throwing up. Her very together and alert roommate got her to the ER not long after that text.

Over the next few hours I got to electronically “meet” her roommate. She’s a true blessing in this story, and continues to be as much. K kept me updated via text and watched over H23 like a hawk. She asked probing questions of the physicians, and reported everything back to me.

K and her boyfriend transported H23 back to Lafayette after the ER released her. The diagnosis was migraine and moderate dehydration. She was still in quite a bit of pain from the headache, and the pain had extended to her upper back. The throwing up hadn’t ceased, but it was reduced. So they drove back to Lafayette, with one call from H23 en-route to give us an update. At that time, she spoke to Hectic Mom…who is a doctor. Being the medical professional in the family means that she takes the calls when the kids are sick. I’m happy to abdicate that responsibility.

At 4pm we got a text from K that they’d made it back to Lafayette and H23 was sleeping, albeit fitfully. I asked her to have H23 call home when she woke up so we could check on her. At 7:30p we got a call from H23, and Hectic Mom answered.

Prior to the call, we’d talked about our plan, and had decided that if things hadn’t gotten better, one of us should go to Colorado. In reality, Hectic Mom should be out here. I know that she would rather be here. But she’s a physician with patients that were scheduled for medical appointments. Plus, her only partner was out of town and can’t come back until late in the week. That meant that I’d be the one traveling. Before the phone call had even ended, I knew I’d be heading to Colorado. Plans were already afoot for Hectic Grandson’s daycare, and the other kids were planning how they were going to do all the in-town transportation that I usually do. You see, we’re a family of doers. When we need to, everybody steps up and does their part.

As soon as the phone call was done, Hectic Mom told me that I’d better go. Things were not only not getting better, but H23 thought they might be getting worse. H23 knew she was unable to drive, could barely think straight (in part due to the pain meds), and needed somebody to watch over her.

We live over 400 miles from Lafayette, CO, so getting in the car to make the drive, after a long and exhausting day, was probably not the best idea. Starting that trip after 8pm made it even more unreasonable. But unreasonable isn’t a word that comes to mind when your baby is sick. You need to do something to make it better.

So I drove. And I drove and I drove. I stopped for gas. I stopped to sleep for a bit, but worried that something would happen to H23 and I wouldn’t be there. I drove more. Slept a bit when my eyes wouldn’t stay open. I got stuck in a traffic jam 25 miles from Lafayette. I was climbing the walls of the car as we sat at a dead-stop for 90 minutes. There was nowhere to go. No alternate route that I could access. But I finally arrived at 7:30am on Monday.

That was yesterday.

When I walked in, I knew how bad things were. H23 was curled up in a ball on the couch in a completely darkened room. K told me she’d had a rough night with continued headache pain, nausea, and several attempts at vomiting. Sorry for being graphic, but that’s how it is with kids…whether they’re two, three, or 23. You call it as you see it.

The plan was to get an appointment with a neurologist, since a three day migraine is out of the ordinary for H23. At 8:30 the office was supposed to open. At 8:45 the poor lady at the answering service was still apologizing that the office hadn’t picked up. When I finally got through, they said their next appointment was available in six to eight weeks! I was aghast. My baby was in such pain and a neurologist was the most appropriate medical professional per recommendations of several of Hectic Mom’s colleagues. I begged the lady on the phone for an appointment. I pleaded. She was very curt and informed me that there were no appointments. She then hung up on me.

Hectic Dad turned into a Raving Maniac Dad. I was so mad I was ready to march over to that office and strangle her with the phone cord. We were seeking help, I was doing something to make it better and this holier-than-though gatekeeper to the medical care we needed had not only blown me off. She’d hung up on me.

I finally got ahold of myself and called the large multi-specialty clinic in town. I got a wonderful woman on the line who immediately knew that I was doing something to make it better and she was going to do everything in her power to get us an appointment with somebody. After 30 minutes, multiple bouts of the worst on-hold music ever, and lots of outbound calls by this scheduling angel, she managed to get us an appointment at 2pm with one of the providers at an internal medicine clinic. She kept apologizing that it was 20 minutes away while I simultaneously was thanking her for finding an appointment.

With careful management of meds, we were able to get H23’s 15 minutes of feeling a tiny bit better to coincide with our walk from the car into the clinic. We spent 30 minutes filling out the required paperwork as H23 deteriorated. We then went in to see the Certified Nurse Practitioner, D. This poor woman had never met either of us, she didn’t realize that H23 was tough-as-nails, but she immediately recognized out serious air and grave concerns and started to help diagnose what was wrong.

After an hour, we were still no closer to a diagnosis than when we’d started…except we were on the road to further medical treatment. Several things had been ruled out, and a couple of potential diagnoses were presented. We left after some blood was drawn for tests, with prescriptions for pain, stiffness, and nausea in hand. More importantly, we left with a promise that we’d hear from D directly regarding the first panel of blood tests the next day, and the remainder on Wednesday.

I managed to get H23 back home, picked up her prescriptions, and got some Goldfish crackers. We have a long-standing joke that if you have to eat a snack, you might as well eat one that’s smiling about it. Although H23 hadn’t been able to eat for two days, she opened the crackers and took out a couple Goldfish. She commented that they were smiling at her and I reminded her of our joke. Through a weak smile, she ate a couple.

I then asked her what I could do for her, and she broke my heart when she said:

Kiss it and make it better, please.

Guys, I’m 52 years old. I’ve seen horrific auto accidents that involved my kids. I’ve witnessed my sons get concussions on the football field. I watched H23’s twin break her wrist in an indoor soccer game. I’ve seen broken legs, dislocated shoulders, and torn ACL’s. But at no single moment have I felt so helpless. There was nothing I could do. No action I could take to make it better. My kiss wouldn’t even do the trick.

My baby was asking me to take away pain, and I couldn’t do it. Honestly, there’s nothing I can do except hold her close and pray for her. As I write this, the tears are streaming down because I feel so helpless. I’m not doing my job. It’s my job to take care of her, to kiss it and make it better.

And I can’t. I’m doing everything I can to hold it together in front of her, but it’s killing me inside that there’s nothing I can do right now. If I could take away her pain and shoulder it myself, I would in a heartbeat. If you’re a parent, you know exactly what I’m talking about. I’ll do anything for my kids. But right now, I have to wait, pray, and trust that this thing will pass.

Damn, sometimes it’s so hard being a Daddy!