(no subject)
Well, we are home. At least for today. Monkeyman got sick during the night last Wednesday and his fever went up to 105.5 and he started breathing rapidly-- terrifying to put it mildly. We got it down with a tepid bath, motrin and cold drinks. Ended up at the doctor's office twice on Thursday and again on Friday. Our doctor sent us to ER on Friday, and they sent us home after a breathing treatment. We managed to keep his fever under control all weekend, if we kept alternating tylenol and motrin every 3 hours. But, early Tuesday morning, I slept through the alarm and missed it by 1 hour and it shot up again. Our doctor basically took one look at him and sent us straight to the ER again.
We get there and they do blood work, start an IV, give him a breathing treatment and decide to admit us after he is diagnosed with RSV. (He had previously tested negative for RSV twice the week before.) The ER doctor soon came back in and utter the words that stopped my breathing: we found a couple of blast cells on his bloodwork. Could be nothing, could be an indicator of leukemia. I nearly vomited all over the floor. They soon rushed up upstairs and Im trying to tell my husband all of this via text message, since I didn't have enough of a signal to talk to him.
3 hours pass and I still haven't heard anything more. Finally, we get to the pediatrics floor and I nearly lose it in front of our nurse. She quickly got what seemed like every doctor in the building into our room giving me information. Basically, they need an additional blood sample 24 hours later to determine if the blast cell was a fluke due to his recovering from the viruses or if it was a leukemia indicator. Monkey was still his pitiful sick self. He was either sleeping in my arms or crying because someone was messing with him. I'm doing everything in my power to remain calm, knowing that the calmer I remain the better it is for him. On the inside, I am a complete mess.
We make it through the night and they draw more blood in the morning. My husband comes over in the morning and I jump in the shower. I lose it in there. I swear I have never been more terrified. Finally, after what seemed like an eternity, the hematologist walked in the room and told us Monkey's blood work showed no blast cells. I burst in silent tears. It was only 24 hours, but it felt like an eternity.
I never thought fighting off RSV would have seemed like the easy part. Slowly his breathing got better and his fevers stopped. He still wasn't eating or drinking enough, so they kept his IV in. After another long night, I watched the sun rise Thursday and prayed that I would walk out of the hospital with a healthy boy that day. They told us he could come home, provided his white blood count was rising (it did), and he was eating/drinking/peeing okay. At 7pm, he finally had a wet diaper, after drinking some apple juice and we were able to leave.
Monkey still isn't drinking enough, our doctor told us we would need to take him back to the ER for more fluids, if he didn't start drinking. He has lost 1.5 pounds in the past week, so the dehydration has reached pretty frightening levels. I call myself the gatorade pusher.
Thus my absence. Hug your kids today.
We get there and they do blood work, start an IV, give him a breathing treatment and decide to admit us after he is diagnosed with RSV. (He had previously tested negative for RSV twice the week before.) The ER doctor soon came back in and utter the words that stopped my breathing: we found a couple of blast cells on his bloodwork. Could be nothing, could be an indicator of leukemia. I nearly vomited all over the floor. They soon rushed up upstairs and Im trying to tell my husband all of this via text message, since I didn't have enough of a signal to talk to him.
3 hours pass and I still haven't heard anything more. Finally, we get to the pediatrics floor and I nearly lose it in front of our nurse. She quickly got what seemed like every doctor in the building into our room giving me information. Basically, they need an additional blood sample 24 hours later to determine if the blast cell was a fluke due to his recovering from the viruses or if it was a leukemia indicator. Monkey was still his pitiful sick self. He was either sleeping in my arms or crying because someone was messing with him. I'm doing everything in my power to remain calm, knowing that the calmer I remain the better it is for him. On the inside, I am a complete mess.
We make it through the night and they draw more blood in the morning. My husband comes over in the morning and I jump in the shower. I lose it in there. I swear I have never been more terrified. Finally, after what seemed like an eternity, the hematologist walked in the room and told us Monkey's blood work showed no blast cells. I burst in silent tears. It was only 24 hours, but it felt like an eternity.
I never thought fighting off RSV would have seemed like the easy part. Slowly his breathing got better and his fevers stopped. He still wasn't eating or drinking enough, so they kept his IV in. After another long night, I watched the sun rise Thursday and prayed that I would walk out of the hospital with a healthy boy that day. They told us he could come home, provided his white blood count was rising (it did), and he was eating/drinking/peeing okay. At 7pm, he finally had a wet diaper, after drinking some apple juice and we were able to leave.
Monkey still isn't drinking enough, our doctor told us we would need to take him back to the ER for more fluids, if he didn't start drinking. He has lost 1.5 pounds in the past week, so the dehydration has reached pretty frightening levels. I call myself the gatorade pusher.
Thus my absence. Hug your kids today.