Florence Nightengale

Please forgive me for my lack of posts. I have been busy playing nurse for the last 11 days. And today I am so pathetically tired that this post may or may not make any sense whatsoever. So, in advance, please forgive me. . .

It is that time of year - sick kids everywhere. And naturally, my kids are all taking turns getting sick so they can prolong my torture.

It started last Thursday evening with my youngest Trey. He started throwing up and running a temperature of 103.1. Let me explain to you first that Trey is quite possibly the worst puker to ever walk the earth. He is what I would call a puke-talker. He has to do a running commentary while green bile is shooting out of his mouth. “Mom” cough – spit – “ I am “ cough – spit – vomit – “so sick” – cry – cough- spit – vomit – “I’m puke” cough – spit- vomit –cry – “puuuuuking” – vomit – cough – “I can’t go to” – cry – cough – vomit – spit – “pre-k.”

He had to make it very clear to me that since he was sick he needed to stay home. He loves school, but he loves being stuck to me 24/7 even more. And when he is sick, I am the one who really suffers. Naturally, he knows hows to work me, and in his most pathetic voice he would completely order me to satisfy every whim. (He thought he was too sick to hold his own cup of water so I had the pleasure of performing every sip.)

Within minutes (well it seemed like it anyway) he had the 3 pack-a-day cough, constant vomiting, and a fever that was hovering between 102 and 104. It seemed like he was getting sicker by the minute.

By Friday afternoon he was delirious and telling me he couldn’t find his helmet. Whaaaaaaaaaat? So, I made an appointment at the Dr’s. I didn’t want him to have to suffer through the weekend. Or, perhaps I didn’t want to suffer through the weekend. But, in either case, he was off to the Dr’s.

My dear hubby Paco volunteered to take him since I was functioning solely on caffeine and absolutely no sleep. I rattled off the checklist of things he needed to discuss with the Dr. and I sent him on his way. (I even made a point to tell him that he needed to tell the Dr. that this is our THIRD child, and we really know how to tell when he is sick-sick or just sick. And this time I knew he was sick-sick.)

So, what does Paco call and tell me is the problem?????? It's a VIRUS, and it needs run it's course. Oh, and this one is a 5-day VIRUS, so he will be like this for five FREAKIN' days. "And if he's not better in 5 days, do call us and schedule an appointment to be seen again. Thank you, that will be 5 hundred dollars please."

The Dr. that saw him is a bit, well, crunchy. (As in yoga doin', no-armpit-shavin, "let your body heal itself" kinda crunchy.) Paco said she was in the room for no more than one minute performing her exam. So, this diagnosis should have been expected. But, it still ticked me off. All she had to do is send us home with a bottle of tylenol with the words "miracle medicine" written in magic marker across the front and I would have felt sooo much better. Just something to make me feel like she actually gave a damn and I wasn't completely over-reacting. But, nope, nothing. Just a "call us if he's not better in 5 days" send-off. Thanks for that.

So for 5 glorious days I cleaned puke off of every orifice in the house. (He even managed to get puke on the dog. I can't quite get over that one.) I dispensed so much tylenol and advil that I decided I should buy stock in them. I wiped 300 butt-loads of diarrhea and did laundry 24/7. And, I even managed to be nice. (Which under the circumstance deserves both a trophy AND a trip to the spa.)

Somewhere in the midst of this Ace also started puking and needed motherly supervision. He seemed to recover much more quickly though.

So, by day six when Trey's fever topped out at 105, I think I may have actually been swearing when I called the Dr's office to make appointment #2. The call may have gone something like: "Good Morning, such-and-such pediatrics. How can I help you today."

"You can help me by giving me some friggen' ANTIBIOTICS already! We are on day 6 of the 5-day virus and my son is WORSE!!!!! He hasn't slept in 6 days, he has puked and diarrhead more than double his body weight, and now he has greenish-yellow slime oozing from his nose now. Can you tell me why that is possible, huh, can you, CAN YOU???" I scream in the phone.

"Um, well, how soon can you get here?" She says ever so sweetly.

Needless to say I was there in 15 minutes.

I insisted on seeing his regular pediatrician. He performed a very thorough exam and sat me down for the news . . .

He has pneumonia and a raging ear infection. The ear infection is so bad that the Dr. can see puss. Wonderful. (The word puss actually makes me gag, so it was quite a miracle that I didn't start vomiting too.) It will be 5 more days of antibiotics and nebulization every 4 hours before he will be back to normal.

Great. This 5 day virus is turning into a 10 day party. Woo-hoo. Lucky me.

So, he sends us to the hospital for blood work and chest x-rays, and tells me that we should start seeing some mild improvement, and to come back tomorrow.

We head home, perform all the required tasks, and I'm back at the Dr's the next day.

Trey's fever has finally broke so that is a positive sign. And, his ears are looking much better. (I didn't bother to mention that I used half a box of q-tips cleaning out the goo. I am a mother after all and the thought of puss in my sons ear made me gaggy. So, I waited 'till he was asleep and went to town cleaning them out. At least I felt a little better.)

The Dr. was happy with his progress and we were given the usual "If he doesn't get better in a couple of days, give us a call and we'll have you come in again."

That night, I nebulized, medicated, watered, and tucked-in Sir Trey and headed for bed. My dear hubby Paco volunteered to sleep on the couch and be on sick-patrol so that I could get some much needed rest. What a super duper guy.

At exactly 12:02 am my dear precious Trey climbed into bed with me and immediately started puke-talking. "I don't have a good feeling about this" puke-cough-spit-sputter-"Mom, I'm SIIIIIICCCCCKKK"puke-cough-spit. Somehow, this precious little 4 year old managed to get vomit on my comforter, 2 shams, 1 pillow case, 1 pillow, the top sheet, the blanket, the bottom sheet, and in my hair. It was after had stripped the bed and screamed a stream of cuss-words that dear-'ol Paco wanders in and says "when did he come in here?" Oh, Paco, Paco . . . I could just feel my hand squeezing my imaginary knife. That man has no idea how lucky he is to still be breathing.

The next morning, Trey's puking and diarrhea intensified, so at exactly 8:30 am I was on the phone with the Dr's office. "Good Morning, such-and-such pediatrics. How can I help you today?"

"He has had 2 doses of antibiotics and he is STILL puking! He is not getting any better. You said he would be getting better!!!!!!!!"

"Good Morning, Mrs. P. How soon can you be here?" I didn't even have to give my name this time. Imagine that.

45 minutes later we were back at the Dr.'s and 30 minutes after that, we were headed for the hospital. Apparently the Dr. wasn't happy with Trey's progress either, and he wanted to get him on IV meds.

You can only imagine what I might look like after 9 days of sick children and no sleep. I imagine that my odor wasn't terribly wonderful either. My hair was looking kinda like Amy Winehouse's and my clothes were stained. I think I may have scared the nurses.


Perhaps it worked in my favor because we were given a private room. . . Good times. . .