It started out as a normal enough Friday last winter. My husband was deployed to Guam, but it had already been 4 months since he had left, so I was pretty settled into a routine. The kids had colds but nothing too serious. KiKi had been running a low grade fever on and off, nothing big. I could handle this. Around 4pm I decided to head to the commissary because I was not liking the looks of anything in my fridge for dinner. You know what I am talking about. You go to the fridge, take a look, shut the fridge and come back 3 min later hoping something else magically appears. Well nothing had magically appeared so I got my kids ready to go out. Coats, shoes, hats. I had them bundled up good because it was freezing outside.
At the commissary I did my shopping. KiKi was whining a bit because she didn't want to be in the cart and she was starting to sweat. I took off her hat and she felt a little warm. I figured her fever was coming back and we would get a dose of Tylenol when we got back to the house. Nothing big I could handle it. I got to the register and started unloading my items onto the cashiers conveyor belt. I took a look at the kids and noticed KiKi was just not right.
She started slumping into the blue seat of the car cart. Then her eyes started rolling into her head. By the time I pulled her out of the cart she was completely limp and not breathing. I started to scream for someone to call 911. The cashier helped me lower her little lifeless body onto the conveyor belt. I was a mess. I was crying and praying for my angel to be alright. Her little lips were starting to turn blue. Out of nowhere a man appeared. He must have come from another checkout line. He announced that he was an eye doctor over at the medical group and he started checking her vitals. He told me to try to calm down and that she still had circulation going to her fingers. The manager of the commisary came and said the ambulance was on its way. About this time KiKi started coming around. She had this completely dazed look on her face and was scared. She was crying. I was also crying. I then heard the sirens of the ambulance and the doctor and I hurried her outside. He gave the paramedics her vitals and I gave them her personal information. Within minutes they were on their way to the hospital and I was following behind with LaLa in our personal vehicle.
I made a call to The Man on the way to the hospital. It was early Saturday morning and he was on a WW2 sightseeing trip with a few of his buddies. He immediately got a friend to take him back to his dorm so that he could be on alert if anything else happened. He couldn't do much from Guam but he wanted to be available in case anything changed. Once he hung up with me, he called his first sgt and some of his shop friends who were still state side. One of our friends met me at the hospital and took LaLa for me so she wouldn't have to sit in the hospital. The First Sgt. also showed up ready to help any way he could. Another friend showed up to keep me company while we waited for test results on KiKi.
KiKi was fine once her fever came down. She had a febrile seizure. Her fever had spiked so quickly that her little body couldn't handle it. I felt like a horrible mother because I had taken her out shopping when she was sick. Then I realized, if I had stayed home, I wouldn't have had a doctor or any of the others to help me. I would have been alone. The commisarry had actually been the perfect place for this to have happened at. I was never alone throughout the entire crisis. I may not have had my family present, but I had my Air Force Family. They circled the wagons in my families time of need. It is what they do.
Last week I ran into the manager of the commissary and he recognized me. He asked how KiKi was doing and what exactly had happened. I explained it all. The bagger who was helping him with my groceries also remembered the incident. When she was helping me out to the car she told me that out of the three years she had worked at the commissary, that was her most memorable moment. It was my most memorable moment at the commisary as well. Go figure.