Jaylen Evans

Severe Seizure Part 1

Lena pov
It was a warm Saturday, the kind that lingers soft and slow in your bones. Stef was on shift. I'd just made a pot of tea and sat down with my planner when I heard it, the ball thudding against the driveway. Jesus' laugh. Jaylen's yelling voice bouncing off the street like a live wire. That boy never did anything quietly. I smiled. It was good. It was normal. They were bonding. And for Jaylen, normal was a gift we didn't take for granted
Jesus: Come on Jay shoot it! You got this!
Jaylen: Get ready to lose Jesus!
I sipped my tea. That laughter was still rare some days. Since he came to us. Since Chicago. Since everything. Then the yelling stopped. The bounce of the ball stopped.
Jesus: Mama!
My mug shattered on the tiles before I even realized I'd stood up.
Jesus: mama! Something's wrong! He's just shaking!

I ran out the door barefoot my heart slamming before I even saw him. Jaylen was on the driveway, twisted on his side, body jerking violently. One arm pinned beneath him, his face twitching. His breath came in short bursts choked and desperate.
Lena: Jesus clear the area and get the basketball out of the way. Put your hoodie under his head  gently
Jesus: He he fell and I tried to catch him but—
Lena: It's okay. You did good honey. Just give him space now
His eyes rolled back, lashes fluttering. Foam at the corner of his mouth. The jerks weren't slowing. They were getting worse. I checked the time on my watch and we were thirty seconds in. He was still convulsing hard. I grabbed my phone.

Lena: This is Lena Adams-Foster. I need an ambulance. 13 yr old male, active tonic-clonic seizure, lasting over a minute so far. Known epilepsy. Rescue meds on site but may not be enough

I ended the call and crouched low beside Jaylen, keeping my hand gently on his shoulder, speaking calmly though my heart was screaming.

Lena: I'm right here honey. You're safe. Just ride it out. I've got you
Jesus hovered behind me pale and shaking.
Jesus: He hit his head when he fell. I think. I don't. what do I do?
Lena: Breathe. Go inside. Get the rescue kit from the hallway cabinet. Orange zipper pouch. Then unlock the front door for paramedics
He ran. I pulled Jaylen's legs slightly straighter so he wouldn't twist his spine. His jeans were wet through and my stomach dropped. No. No, no, no. Jayden never wet himself. Not once not during seizures. He was so ashamed of the idea of losing control like that, always asking, "Did I do anything gross?" afterward. This wasn't normal. This was different. This was bad.
Lena: You're okay, baby. You're okay. Hold on
Jesus came flying back.
Jesus: Here! What do I do?
Lena: Open the pouch. Pass me the nasal spray. The one that says first dose
I slid the tip into Jaylen's right nostril and gave the full dose then checked the time again. He was still convulsing. Still unconscious.
Lena: Timer. Set for three minutes
Jesus: Three minutes?
Lena: If he's still seizing by then I give the second dose. If that doesn't work they may need to give IV meds. Or intubate. Just set it, Jesus
The alarm blared what felt like seconds later. He was still going. Every muscle in his body seizing like a live current had gripped him. I gave the second dose. Left nostril this time.
Lena: Come on, sweetheart. Come back to me
Jesus crouched beside me. Silent now. The convulsions slowed, briefly. Paused. I held my breath. Then his body jerked violently again, like it was starting all over.
Jesus: it's not working
The sirens echoed down the street.

They came fast—two paramedics and a third in training. I briefed them quickly
Lena: Jaylen Evans, 13, severe epilepsy, this was his longest seizure to date. We'd already given both rescue doses. Still convulsing.
Paramedic 1: We need to stabilize him for transport. We're pushing midazolam. Let's start the IV
They worked swiftly. One of them tried talking to Jaylen just in case he could hear.
Paramedic 2: Jaylen? You're okay, mate. We're here now.
He didn't respond. Not even a flinch. His limbs were like rubber now, twitching uncontrollably. The wet patch down his jeans had spread. I hated that. Hated how it would humiliate him later. Hated that he wasn't even awake to hate it himself. I climbed into the ambulance before they could stop me.
Lena: He's my foster son. I'm coming
They nodded. Jesus stood on the sidewalk, arms wrapped around himself.
Lena: I'll call you when I can okay? Stay home. Call Stef. Tell her what's going on
Jesus: I will
He looked like he might cry. I couldn't handle that right now.

The ride to the hospital was chaos and silence all at once. I sat beside Jaylen, gripping the rail, whispering to him the whole way.
Lena: You're not alone. I'm right here. I'm not going anywhere
His heart monitor beeped steadily but the oxygen levels dipped. His body wasn't calming. They gave another med. Another.
Paramedic 1: We need to prep them in ER. Let them know he's still in status
Lena: Status?
Paramedic 1: Status epilepticus. When a seizure lasts longer than five minutes or there's no recovery between them. It's dangerous
Dangerous. The word made my stomach hollow.

In the ER they moved fast, a blur of scrubs and shouting.
Doctor: Full panel. CT head. Get Neuro on call
They wheeled him away and someone took me to the waiting bay. A nurse gave me a coffee I didn't want. I stared at it for twenty minutes before even realizing it had gone cold. My hands shook. I couldn't stop replaying it. The moment the laughter cut. The fall. The wet jeans. His body not responding to meds we trusted. I called Stef. Told her everything in short, clinical bursts so I wouldn't break. Then I waited. And waited.
Finally, someone came out. an older nurse with kind eyes and a lanyard that jingled.
Nurse: He's stable. We've stopped the seizure
Lena: Oh thank God
Nurse: He's sedated now, resting. We had to give him a strong IV dose to break the cycle. We're monitoring him in peds ICU for the next few hours. You can see him
I followed her, legs numb. Jaylen looked so small in the bed. Machines hummed around him. The IV line taped to his arm. Heart monitor steady now. A light bandage over a small cut on his forehead from the fall. He was breathing. His chest rose and fell. That was enough. For now.
I pulled the chair close and took his hand gently in mine.
Lena: You scared me today, baby
His lashes fluttered. No real consciousness, just the edge of it. A drugged kind of peace. I brushed his curls back.
Lena: I've got you. You're safe
I stayed like that for hours. The nurses came and went. One of them quietly changed his wet clothes and bedding while I turned away. Gave him dignity.

Around five p.m. he stirred. Eyes still glassy. But they opened. Just barely.
Jaylen: Lena...?
Lena: Hey, sweetheart. I'm here. You're okay
He blinked. Tried to lift his arm, failed. Frowned.
Jaylen: Did I... did I pee?
I nodded. No point lying.
Lena: Yeah but only 'cause it was a big one. Your body needed help. It's not your fault
Jaylen: I hate when I can't stop it...
Lena: i know but you didn't do anything wrong
He turned his head slowly. Winced.
Jaylen: My head hurts
Lena: You hit it when you fell. They did a scan and there's no bleeding, just a bump. You'll be okay
Jaylen: How long was I out?
Lena: A while. The seizure lasted a long time. Longer than ever. We gave both your meds but they didn't work. We had to call the ambulance
He was quiet. Processing.
Jaylen: I thought I was gonna die
Lena: I was scared too. But you didn't. You held on. You're strong
His lip wobbled. He wasn't crying. Jaylen didn't really cry but I saw it. So I leaned down and kissed his forehead.
Lena: I'm so proud of you
He didn't answer but his hand gripped mine tight. Like he believed me. Like maybe, for once, he didn't feel broken. And I held on too.