On Friday, you call for a pediatrician appointment for your sick son. Your son has Strep, he gets a prescription and you are on your merry way. You and the pediatrician laugh about the fact that as soon as she emailed you, you had to come in the office anyway. You start the boy on his medication and he feels better in a matter of hours.
Saturday and Sunday go swimmingly, your son feels better! You think "Whew! After a week of constant night waking, we will finally sleep!" You are wrong. Why did you even think that?
Sunday night your sweet baby girl has an episode that starts at 10 pm. There is much crying and vomiting involved, and very little sleeping. You go to bed at 5am. Your son, who feels wonderful, wakes at 7am. Your baby wakes around 8am, running a high fever. She is still vomiting. She refuses to eat and drink. You call the pediatrician again. To the office you go. Your baby hates the nurse and the doctor. She can't stand for them to be in the room with her, even if they aren't touching her or looking at her. This is the first time that you've realized that she now officially has a medical phobia. Or maybe she's really pissed off. You and the pediatrician talk to each other OVER THE SCREAMING. The pediatrician gives the baby a prescription, because her Strep test came back positive. She also sends you one for your husband, because he is at home with a migraine and a fever, most likely from the same lovely Strep. She also gives you one for yourself, just in case the Strep gets you too. You rush home, because it is almost time for your son's very first preschool performance. Your mom has kept him all day because you were at the doctor and your husband was so very ill. She got him ready for the program and took him to the school. You drop the baby off with sick husband, drop the prescriptions off at Walgreens, grab food in the McDonald's drivethrough, and shove your snack wrap in your mouth as you rush to your son's school. You make it in time!! The program was wonderful, and you definitely have the cutest 4 year old on the planet. After the program you go back to McDonald's because that cute little 4 year old deserves a treat. You go back to Walgreen's and pick up the prescriptions, and rush home. Medication is given. The baby throws up immediately. She has only drank 1 oz of fluid since you left the house. Her fever is climbing.
Still not drinking.
Won't keep medicine down.
She's peed twice all day, but the diapers were barely damp.
It is 12:30am. You call the nurse. She tells you to give the baby suppositories and a lukewarm bath. The fever goes down to 102. Your baby still won't drink. It is now 4am. Everyone goes to sleep.
In the morning, the diaper is dry. Your baby hasn't peed since before 2am. She refuses her bottle. She refuses a cup. She refuses a dropper. She refuses a syringe. She accepts a sport bottle with water. Drip. Drip. Drip. Fluids go in, oh so slowly. She vomits everything up. Drip. Drip. More fluids. More vomit. No urine. The pediatrician keeps in touch, checking on her through the day. She says, "I don't want to send you in if you think you can get some fluids in her. Call me if it gets to a point where you think it won't be possible." After the third intake/throw up incident, you call. To the ER you go. 12 hours with no urine is too long, especially when she won't accept any fluids.
The ER is more full than you have ever seen. When you get to triage, you find out there are 89 people waiting. Luckily your wonderfully amazing pediatrician called them, so you get bumped to the front. You wait an hour before getting a room. The baby cries every time a doctor or nurse even walks by her. The blood pressure guy gives her his glasses so she will calm down for him. She loves the glasses. He has to leave and take the glasses. There is much weeping. Your wonderful pediatrician comes to check on things. You are amazed by how amazing she is. She makes sure the doctors are up to speed and they agree on treatment. They give your sweet girl an IV, but it blows and they have to repeat it. Your dad leaves because he can't stand to see babies in pain. He can hear your sweet girl screaming all the way across the ER by the elevators. She has never been this angry. She is clawing at the IV and trying to shake it loose. Later, she gets a shot of antibiotics so you don't have to worry about getting anymore into her. She screams anytime anyone comes in the room for anything. She dozes off, finally. They decide to keep you overnight. When you get to the new room you get her lab results. She is sicker than she looks. Her glucose level is at 30 and normal is 70-100. Her CO2 level is at 12 and it should be at 30. And so on. They push some dextrose for 30 minutes. Then 30 minutes after that they have to come poke her again. The level is normal. Around 4am, the both of you fall asleep. At 7am you wake up for rounds. The pediatrician comes to check on you. She wants to you stay the day and get fluids, because your girlie was in such bad shape. They recheck her labs at noon and say she's looking good. She perks up around 4pm and stops screaming every time a nurse comes in. She even smiles a little and lets the nurse look at her animal flashcards. She giggles when the nurse says "Moo!" You've turned a corner. The doctor lets you go at 7:30pm.
On the way home, your sweet baby falls asleep in the backseat. She is so tired. When you get home, she wakes up and opens her eyes. You are sure she'll want to play when she gets home, but when you turn on the lights her eyes close instantly and she cries. Episode? You rush her to her dark room and lay her in the crib hoping she will go to sleep quickly. She does. You do, too. During the night, you hear your husband whispering to you from the rocking chair. He is rocking your sick baby. She threw up on him. The light is intensely bothering her. Episode. He is able to rock her and get her to sleep. Her body is so tired thay even the episode can't keep her awake. You are thankful.
In the morning, she wakes with a 102 fever. She is refusing liquids. You are running fever. You don't have time for fever, so you are popping Motrin like candy and drinking coffee like you SHOULD drink water. You are worried. If your baby won't drink, then you're going to end up back in the ER. Your baby has no more hands for an IV. She was so unhappy in the hospital. You are so tired. You want sleep. Sleep. Sleep. Sleep.
How did this begin? With an email to see if all was well, and your assurance that "Everything is GREAT!".
Can I buy someone a coke and have this be over?
Playing with Daddy...finally smiles!
Leaving the nurse a thank-you note.