Monday, May 17, 2010
You see all these gray hairs? I swear they're all from him. And after this weekend, it's gonna take a lot more than a bottle of hair color off the grocery store shelf to cover this up. We're talking industrial strength hair color.
So because it's May, because my last post was about medical issues, or maybe because the God of Irony decided that it had been way too long since we had visited an ER, we spent the weekend in the hospital with Max.
You know that nasty fever? It came as a result of the nasty stomach bug that Ashlynn started. Problem was, Max doesn't seem to be able to fight stuff like that off. He spent Thursday with a wicked fever, (think 104!) and Friday with a mild one. He wasn't eating anything, and hardly drinking. I'm not even going to mention how awful the diarrhea was. Just when I was starting to get worried, he ate a good meal on Friday night.
Then, as we were visiting with good friends and about to sit down for a night of games and fun, he threw up all over me. There's nothing to make you feel like a mom like leaving a party because there's puke all over you. And you weren't the one who did the puking!
Saturday was filled with more attempts to get him to eat or drink. Nada. When I was at the grocery store that afternoon, I was suddenly filled with an unmistakeable panic. I called home to make sure everything was ok. Tom siad everything was fine. Max had been sleeping for four and a half hours. While normally I would rejoice and praise the fates, this time I knew he was probably sleeping because he didn't have the energy to do anything else.
When he woke up, he hadn't had a wet diaper for nearly twelve hours and I knew it was time to do something. I called and talked with the pediatrician on call, and she told me we needed to get him to the ER to get him hydrated ASAP.
I fed my family, cleaned up the dinner and packed up the baby. We thought it was just going to be a quick trip. (As if there's ever such thing...) Turns out I should have showered, washed my hair, shaved my legs and packed a bag.
Mission: Rehydrate Max turned out to be a lot more complicated than anticipated. Poor guy has my terrible veins, and it took 7 sticks, 6 blown veins, a doctor and three nurses holding him down, and many many tears, (his and mine) before they were finally able to get an IV started. After a few hours, the doctor came back and told me that Max's blood work pointed towards him being severely dehydrated. She told me that he was starting to become acidotic, (and while I don't know exactly what that means, it just doesn't sound good!) and that they wanted to keep him overnight for observation and more fluids.
So with that, we were moved upstairs, and set up camp in a hospital bed for the night.
Can I just say how much I hate trying to sleep in hospital beds? Especially when you're sleeping in your clothes? And how I hate that just when you or your kiddo gets into a decent sleep pattern, it's inevitable that the nurse is going to come in for a set of vitals?
By yesterday morning, the fluids had worked their magic. Our pediatrician explained that when kids get this dehydrated, the tissues around their stomach get irritated, irritating the stomach, and often can't calm down without help. I was glad to see him eat a good breakfast and start throwing things off the hospital bed, because I could tell he was starting to feel better.
It took us forever to get discharged, and I started feeling very self concious. We had spent Saturday working in the yard, so my feet were green from cutting the grass, I was wearing a hat to cover my greasy hair, and smelled like something out of the black lagoon. I found myself wondering why an emergency hospitalization can't ever happen on a day where I had showered and washed my hair first. You know when you start smelling yourself that things are really getting bad.
So yeah, Max and I were super glad to be home yesterday. The shower and the nap were both equally needed and appreciated.
He's feeling better today, although hospitalizations always make him whiney and clingy for a few days afterwards. He looks a bit like a baby junkie with bruises and needle marks all over his arms, hands and feet. And his diapers still could pass for nuclear waste.
I love him, but he's seriously in trouble. And is going to pay me back for every one of the hair treatments I'm going to need.