How We Ended Up In the Hospital
As you know, we all were sick on Tuesday. The baby (10w old - 11w tomorrow) started off just with a little cough and sleepiness. But by Thursday night he was not happy. He had been off his food for a while, still eating but not as much, and then Thursday night he wouldn't eat at all. He was coughing so hard his little eyes were bright red and shiny, and at one point he threw up (not spit up, threw up) so hard digested food came out.
By Friday morning about 6:30AM he still wasn't doing better. His breathing had a rattle, even at rest (up to this point he was breathing fine when he slept, he was just having coughing fits when awake) and he just didn't seem well or comfortable at all. That, combined with the green vomit (digested food, I later learned) had me spooked. At 7:45 I loaded him into the car to head to the ER.
On the way there I decided to leave a message for his pediatrician. It was 8AM. The office was opened and they answered and they said just come there they will squeeze him in. So they did.
As we waited in the exam room for the doctor, David started coughing and couldn't stop. I repositioned him, patted his back, bounced a bit. He was still coughing. He started to choke. I opened the door and yelled for help. The nurses rushed in and brought the doctor out of his other appointment and they did something (I don't honestly remember, I just remember he started breathing) and he was okay. The doctor went back to his appointment and then a few minutes later came in. Trish, the most excellent of excellent PA's stayed with me. I have always loved her (she's the lactation consultant too) but she earned her stripes on Friday. At one point the EMT asked if she was family. That's how wonderful she was.
Anyway, I get ahead of myself.
The doctor said he wanted to admit him to Children's hospital. He needs help breathing and getting the crud (mucus) out. I started crying, mostly because it was like ... I dunno admitting defeat our something. I couldn't help my baby and had to resort to emergency care. I have no prejudice against people that do things whatever way but I like to be an independent sort. It is a badge of honor that I wear that I care so completely for my own babies. Every diaper, every feeding, every outfit, everything; I've done that. To have to ask for this level of help means I failed in keeping them safe and healthy.
The transport was called. An ambulance. They stayed with me and helped him through one more coughing spell I think. The EMT's came in with a stretcher and they took him from me and started working on him. He was still coughing. One of the EMT's asked me, calling me "mom". I don't even have a name in these instances. They ask the baby's name, not mine, I am from here just mom or mama. Which is okay. That's my name at home too. But it's just funny how things change.
Anyway one of the EMT's asked me if he was always that color. How does his color look mom? I dunno, he's a little red and speckled looking? He looks sick. And he says okay he needs fluids right away. So they put in an IV (which was difficult on his chubby little arms) and push some amount of fluids before they even load him into the stretcher.
They got him all ready to go in the ambulance. Meanwhile, I'm leaving my car (which has the only carseat for G in it) and riding with him. So that created a bit of issue as my parents had to pick up that car and someone had to stay with G (my friend Katie came over). Lewis had a super busy morning (and afternoon) so I told him what was going on and he said to call him when we got to the hospital.
In the ER they start taking stats and hook him up to the machine that takes his oxygen level. They did this at the doctors office too and it was low, but not crazy low, just sick kid low.
They settle on admitting him overnight for observation. Respitory therapist comes in. I don't remember all the details. They aren't important really. But at one point I'm cussing and ranting about the day I have going on and how horrible this all is and the EMT (same one mentioned above says) Well don't worry about all this, Obama's gonna pay for it. I laughed. And it kind of took some of the emergency out of the situation.
So back to the oxygen level. After all this at some point they hand him back to me and he's resting against my chest (the only place he'd rest) and his level dipped down into the 70s (bad - good is above 95). They quickly pulled him away from me to see his face (decidedly not blue) but because it was so low they were like, !he needs oxygen! So they put him on oxygen. I don't blame them. They are trained to look for emergencies and they see them everywhere and it wasn't like it would hurt him. He hated the little nose thingies though.
They tried to lay him in one of their beds but he was so mad at all of them (by this time he'd been poked a lot, for IV and blood draw and other things. He hated these people).
Long story short they get us into our room and he and I just sit here. I tried to nurse him as often as I could - they were funny about that. They were like, we know you don't want him on a snacking schedule and I literally said, I do not give a flying fig about his schedule. He needs fluid and food! He didn't really need fluid. He had an IV.
That's the IV there. He hated it. His whole arm was on a board to keep it still and every once in a while he'd move his fingers and strain against it. But honestly he slept almost the entire time he was there. I did have to leave him at one point and the nurses were like .... ohhhhhhkaaaaay. But do you have any milk? Because I told them flat NO FORMULA. Not because I don't like formula, but because you don't change a sick kids food. If he's like my other kid his tummy could be sensitive and I would hate to deal with gas and all that on top of the virus.
They were afraid for a bit that it was whooping cough. One night nurse told us, don't go home and see your oldest if it is. We both just stared at her and later said, she obviously doesn't have children, because that's seriously not an option. Plus, he'd been around the baby all week. He was already exposed.
It was later confirmed that it was RSV. Which is just a nasty cold. But he just couldn't get anything moved out of his throat / chest and he struggled so hard. It didn't help that I didn't suction him right. I was using the bulb syringe but I'd do it two or three times, get nothing, and stop. Which is not right. You keep doing it till you get it out. It's painful to do but I'm doing it, now.
Looking at it now ... I couldn't help him so we took him to a place where someone could. It was worth it for the fluids alone because he started to look so much healthier. But the problem was the suction. I didn't suction him right, so he couldn't breathe, so he wouldn't nurse, so he got dehydrated, so the mucus congealed, and he choked and couldn't breathe.
The hospital was a wonderful place and they took great care of him. They mostly did what I told them too, which is kind of funny (after the initial admittance part). After I was taught how to suction properly and how to keep going at it, I felt comfortable going home. And after a full 24hrs on fluids he started improving. They took him off IVs and waited for two feedings and then let us leave.
He's still coughing and mucus-y, but I'm handling it and he's improving. Either because of his age or because he's him, how he handles these things is so different than Grady. G doesn't get chest congestion, it's all in his head. D seems to keep it in his chest. But that would be an age thing. G never got sick this young.
Today D is still coughing but he doesn't have stridor breathing and he is 100x more comfortable. It was the right decision to take him to the hospital. It was stressful at first but as I thought about it it was just getting expert assistance for something that was too much for me.
And my husband, Lord bless his heart, stayed overnight with David so I could go home and sleep. Literally I got home, closed my eyes, and fifteen minutes later opened them and it was 645. I hadn't slept well in 2 days.
It's been a stressful bit of days, but thankfully my parents were here to help (thank you thank you!!) and it's behind us. I am so grateful my family was here. They were here partly because we were sick to begin with and partly for another reason I can't mention, but it all worked. Thank goodness.
By Friday morning about 6:30AM he still wasn't doing better. His breathing had a rattle, even at rest (up to this point he was breathing fine when he slept, he was just having coughing fits when awake) and he just didn't seem well or comfortable at all. That, combined with the green vomit (digested food, I later learned) had me spooked. At 7:45 I loaded him into the car to head to the ER.
On the way there I decided to leave a message for his pediatrician. It was 8AM. The office was opened and they answered and they said just come there they will squeeze him in. So they did.
As we waited in the exam room for the doctor, David started coughing and couldn't stop. I repositioned him, patted his back, bounced a bit. He was still coughing. He started to choke. I opened the door and yelled for help. The nurses rushed in and brought the doctor out of his other appointment and they did something (I don't honestly remember, I just remember he started breathing) and he was okay. The doctor went back to his appointment and then a few minutes later came in. Trish, the most excellent of excellent PA's stayed with me. I have always loved her (she's the lactation consultant too) but she earned her stripes on Friday. At one point the EMT asked if she was family. That's how wonderful she was.
Anyway, I get ahead of myself.
The doctor said he wanted to admit him to Children's hospital. He needs help breathing and getting the crud (mucus) out. I started crying, mostly because it was like ... I dunno admitting defeat our something. I couldn't help my baby and had to resort to emergency care. I have no prejudice against people that do things whatever way but I like to be an independent sort. It is a badge of honor that I wear that I care so completely for my own babies. Every diaper, every feeding, every outfit, everything; I've done that. To have to ask for this level of help means I failed in keeping them safe and healthy.
The transport was called. An ambulance. They stayed with me and helped him through one more coughing spell I think. The EMT's came in with a stretcher and they took him from me and started working on him. He was still coughing. One of the EMT's asked me, calling me "mom". I don't even have a name in these instances. They ask the baby's name, not mine, I am from here just mom or mama. Which is okay. That's my name at home too. But it's just funny how things change.
Anyway one of the EMT's asked me if he was always that color. How does his color look mom? I dunno, he's a little red and speckled looking? He looks sick. And he says okay he needs fluids right away. So they put in an IV (which was difficult on his chubby little arms) and push some amount of fluids before they even load him into the stretcher.
In the ER they start taking stats and hook him up to the machine that takes his oxygen level. They did this at the doctors office too and it was low, but not crazy low, just sick kid low.
They settle on admitting him overnight for observation. Respitory therapist comes in. I don't remember all the details. They aren't important really. But at one point I'm cussing and ranting about the day I have going on and how horrible this all is and the EMT (same one mentioned above says) Well don't worry about all this, Obama's gonna pay for it. I laughed. And it kind of took some of the emergency out of the situation.
So back to the oxygen level. After all this at some point they hand him back to me and he's resting against my chest (the only place he'd rest) and his level dipped down into the 70s (bad - good is above 95). They quickly pulled him away from me to see his face (decidedly not blue) but because it was so low they were like, !he needs oxygen! So they put him on oxygen. I don't blame them. They are trained to look for emergencies and they see them everywhere and it wasn't like it would hurt him. He hated the little nose thingies though.
Long story short they get us into our room and he and I just sit here. I tried to nurse him as often as I could - they were funny about that. They were like, we know you don't want him on a snacking schedule and I literally said, I do not give a flying fig about his schedule. He needs fluid and food! He didn't really need fluid. He had an IV.
They were afraid for a bit that it was whooping cough. One night nurse told us, don't go home and see your oldest if it is. We both just stared at her and later said, she obviously doesn't have children, because that's seriously not an option. Plus, he'd been around the baby all week. He was already exposed.
It was later confirmed that it was RSV. Which is just a nasty cold. But he just couldn't get anything moved out of his throat / chest and he struggled so hard. It didn't help that I didn't suction him right. I was using the bulb syringe but I'd do it two or three times, get nothing, and stop. Which is not right. You keep doing it till you get it out. It's painful to do but I'm doing it, now.
The hospital was a wonderful place and they took great care of him. They mostly did what I told them too, which is kind of funny (after the initial admittance part). After I was taught how to suction properly and how to keep going at it, I felt comfortable going home. And after a full 24hrs on fluids he started improving. They took him off IVs and waited for two feedings and then let us leave.
He's still coughing and mucus-y, but I'm handling it and he's improving. Either because of his age or because he's him, how he handles these things is so different than Grady. G doesn't get chest congestion, it's all in his head. D seems to keep it in his chest. But that would be an age thing. G never got sick this young.
Today D is still coughing but he doesn't have stridor breathing and he is 100x more comfortable. It was the right decision to take him to the hospital. It was stressful at first but as I thought about it it was just getting expert assistance for something that was too much for me.
And my husband, Lord bless his heart, stayed overnight with David so I could go home and sleep. Literally I got home, closed my eyes, and fifteen minutes later opened them and it was 645. I hadn't slept well in 2 days.
It's been a stressful bit of days, but thankfully my parents were here to help (thank you thank you!!) and it's behind us. I am so grateful my family was here. They were here partly because we were sick to begin with and partly for another reason I can't mention, but it all worked. Thank goodness.
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