Tales of the sick
Oh. My. Gosh. This week I have had? So awful. I am just barely out of the fog of sickness today, my brain un-fuddled enough to write a proper entry. A lot has happened, exciting things like Nemo on Ice and trips to the ER! Chest x-rays! Woo-hoo! Amazingly, my husband still hasn't gotten sick. He's been taking care of the rest of us all week, and I'm about positive that caring for a weak and vaguely delirious wife, a semi-sick but still bouncing off the walls three year old, and a so sick she can barely breathe one year old has not been all that much fun.
Monday was my worst day, what with the snot monsters and the vomiting. I felt a bit better on Tuesday, but that was the day the kids got sick. A~'s asthma flared up big-time, but that was pretty much the extent of her illness. Poor little E-- started developing croup right from the get-go. For those of you who aren't familiar with this nasty illness, croup is the result of the voice box swelling, which cuts off the already narrow airway in young children. Adults can get it too, but since our throats are wider, we just get laryngitis. Kids get at the very least a bark-like cough, and at the most severe stridor (the rasping sound indicating major airway obstruction) which requires immediate medical attention. So at 5 am Wednesday morning when E-- woke up sounding like Darth Vader with a life-threatening case of pneumonia, we knew it was bad. We took her outside, hoping the cool, wet air would help like it usually does, but it wasn't getting us anywhere. We called our insurance company's 24 hour nurse line, and put the phone next to E--'s mouth so the nurse could hear her breathe. She told us to take her in right away, and not to worry about showering or getting dressed just GET HER IN.
At this point, I would normally either be royally freaking out or taking charge like a whirlwind to make sure things went smoothly. Alas, neither was possible for me because you see, two hours prior to this when I still hadn't been able to get to sleep by 3 am, my loving husband hauled his butt to the store to buy me some Nyquil. I was drugged. So deep was my trembling stupor that I barely even had the strength or presence of mind to hold the phone and talk to the nurse. No way was my husband letting me drive anywhere (although at the time I thought I would be fine). So he bundled her up and drove her to the ER, and I passed out like a stuffy, snotty log. At the ER she was given a chest x-ray since she had a fever, but luckily that came out clear. They gave her an enormous shot of steroids in her leg to reduce the swelling in her throat, and sent her home.
I woke up sometime around 11 am, confused but rested. E-- was feeling much better, her stridor gone and her cough less severe. Like the logically thinking sick person that I was, I began worrying about our plans to go see Nemo on Ice that night. Would people around us notice that we were so sick? Could we hide it somehow? How bad would I feel about spreading our nasty germs around? Thankfully Ammon talked me out of letting E-- go, since she had just been to the EMERGENCY ROOM that MORNING, but since A~ was feeling fine I convinced him that it would be ok to take her. She had a great time, and I think her favorite part was that I let her eat an entire tub of popcorn for dinner. I don't remember that much from the show, mostly just the painfully bright flashing lights and the spinning spinning spinning I'm going to throw up spinning of the weird fish-people down on the ice.
I woke up the next day (yesterday) feeling even worse. E-- started the day out ok, but after her nap she spiked a fever again and her breathing started to decline. She was so miserable, and in so much pain, but she refused to take any medicine. I finally called the doctor's office who told me to bring her in to be seen that evening, since it looked like we were headed for a really bad night. Ammon was at work, so I drove us down to the doctor's office. I was feeling pretty bad, really dizzy and out of it, and of course it was pouring rain and pitch black. I kept thinking, "Wow, we haven't crashed yet" every time we rounded a curve or stopped at a light.
Ammon met us at the doctor's office, which was good because I could barely stand. The pediatrician who saw E-- said that she needed another dose of steroids to make it through the night. They tried to give it to her orally, but she was completely against it, so they decided to just give her another shot. Apparently they decided to take advantage of our location, and just bring in the Space Needle to inject her with. The nurse struggled in, dragging all 605 feet of the needle behind her and dropping it heavily on the floor. Wiping her sweaty brow, she prepared E--'s leg for the monstrous injection, and hoisted the 9,550 ton structure onto her shoulder. Jabbing blindly, she finally found a muscle in E--'s tiny leg, and spent the next twelve hours injecting the steroids as slowly as possible. When she was finally done, I bundled up my crying child and hurried her out of the office, listening to her pitiful little cries of "no, no, no, no, no," all the way out to the car. Ammon left his car at the doctor's office so he could drive us home safely, and we spent the rest of the night coaxing Tylenol down E--'s throat without success.
E-- and I feel much better this morning, although we're both extremely tired and cranky. She still won't take medicine for her sore throat, and every time she coughs she breaks down in tears. Writing this has wiped me out, so I am going to go put on some Wiggles for the kids and pass out on the couch.
I can tell E-- is feeling better because she gave me a genuinely awed "Woooow!" when I blew my nose just now.
Monday was my worst day, what with the snot monsters and the vomiting. I felt a bit better on Tuesday, but that was the day the kids got sick. A~'s asthma flared up big-time, but that was pretty much the extent of her illness. Poor little E-- started developing croup right from the get-go. For those of you who aren't familiar with this nasty illness, croup is the result of the voice box swelling, which cuts off the already narrow airway in young children. Adults can get it too, but since our throats are wider, we just get laryngitis. Kids get at the very least a bark-like cough, and at the most severe stridor (the rasping sound indicating major airway obstruction) which requires immediate medical attention. So at 5 am Wednesday morning when E-- woke up sounding like Darth Vader with a life-threatening case of pneumonia, we knew it was bad. We took her outside, hoping the cool, wet air would help like it usually does, but it wasn't getting us anywhere. We called our insurance company's 24 hour nurse line, and put the phone next to E--'s mouth so the nurse could hear her breathe. She told us to take her in right away, and not to worry about showering or getting dressed just GET HER IN.
At this point, I would normally either be royally freaking out or taking charge like a whirlwind to make sure things went smoothly. Alas, neither was possible for me because you see, two hours prior to this when I still hadn't been able to get to sleep by 3 am, my loving husband hauled his butt to the store to buy me some Nyquil. I was drugged. So deep was my trembling stupor that I barely even had the strength or presence of mind to hold the phone and talk to the nurse. No way was my husband letting me drive anywhere (although at the time I thought I would be fine). So he bundled her up and drove her to the ER, and I passed out like a stuffy, snotty log. At the ER she was given a chest x-ray since she had a fever, but luckily that came out clear. They gave her an enormous shot of steroids in her leg to reduce the swelling in her throat, and sent her home.
I woke up sometime around 11 am, confused but rested. E-- was feeling much better, her stridor gone and her cough less severe. Like the logically thinking sick person that I was, I began worrying about our plans to go see Nemo on Ice that night. Would people around us notice that we were so sick? Could we hide it somehow? How bad would I feel about spreading our nasty germs around? Thankfully Ammon talked me out of letting E-- go, since she had just been to the EMERGENCY ROOM that MORNING, but since A~ was feeling fine I convinced him that it would be ok to take her. She had a great time, and I think her favorite part was that I let her eat an entire tub of popcorn for dinner. I don't remember that much from the show, mostly just the painfully bright flashing lights and the spinning spinning spinning I'm going to throw up spinning of the weird fish-people down on the ice.
I woke up the next day (yesterday) feeling even worse. E-- started the day out ok, but after her nap she spiked a fever again and her breathing started to decline. She was so miserable, and in so much pain, but she refused to take any medicine. I finally called the doctor's office who told me to bring her in to be seen that evening, since it looked like we were headed for a really bad night. Ammon was at work, so I drove us down to the doctor's office. I was feeling pretty bad, really dizzy and out of it, and of course it was pouring rain and pitch black. I kept thinking, "Wow, we haven't crashed yet" every time we rounded a curve or stopped at a light.
Ammon met us at the doctor's office, which was good because I could barely stand. The pediatrician who saw E-- said that she needed another dose of steroids to make it through the night. They tried to give it to her orally, but she was completely against it, so they decided to just give her another shot. Apparently they decided to take advantage of our location, and just bring in the Space Needle to inject her with. The nurse struggled in, dragging all 605 feet of the needle behind her and dropping it heavily on the floor. Wiping her sweaty brow, she prepared E--'s leg for the monstrous injection, and hoisted the 9,550 ton structure onto her shoulder. Jabbing blindly, she finally found a muscle in E--'s tiny leg, and spent the next twelve hours injecting the steroids as slowly as possible. When she was finally done, I bundled up my crying child and hurried her out of the office, listening to her pitiful little cries of "no, no, no, no, no," all the way out to the car. Ammon left his car at the doctor's office so he could drive us home safely, and we spent the rest of the night coaxing Tylenol down E--'s throat without success.
E-- and I feel much better this morning, although we're both extremely tired and cranky. She still won't take medicine for her sore throat, and every time she coughs she breaks down in tears. Writing this has wiped me out, so I am going to go put on some Wiggles for the kids and pass out on the couch.
I can tell E-- is feeling better because she gave me a genuinely awed "Woooow!" when I blew my nose just now.
November 11, 2005