After staying up until four this morning with a puking, feverish Hotter, I was pretty sure I'd end up seeing the inside of an ER this weekend. What I didn't expect was a frantic phone call from the XY with a screaming Middle Child in the background asking me to meet him at the hospital.
Several x-rays and ultrasounds, and a transfer by ambulance to a facility with pediatric ORs later, we don't know what's wrong, although we've ruled out a ton of stuff. Middly is vomiting and in severe pain WITH IV morphine and Zofran, and as you can't have those at home, they've admitted him for observation and pain management.
Since Hotter isn't up to watching the other two MFA Children (although he seems to be on the mend), the XY took them back to his place and I'm writing this from a pull-out recliner by Middly's hospital bed.
I already missed more work last week being sick myself (a stomach bug passed through Casa MFA and felled us all one by one, although Middly was the vector and had fully recovered by Thursday when I dropped) than we can afford, so let's hope the ER doc who said this "looks surgical" was wrong, mmmkay?
On a personal note, this is the same hospital where Little Child and I lived for several chunks of his infancy, and I was fine until a nurse brought me some baby wipes to clean Middly up after a puke. Then I smelled the godawful cloying hospital-wipes perfume and came down with a serious case of tsuris. I hate this place, and while I have a "Calm" herbal teabag and am about to venture out to the "nourishment room" for hot water, I'd kind of rather run screaming to the nearest liquor store, or maybe take the elevator up to the psych ward and holler for some haldol.
Oooof.
Sent from The Precious
Several x-rays and ultrasounds, and a transfer by ambulance to a facility with pediatric ORs later, we don't know what's wrong, although we've ruled out a ton of stuff. Middly is vomiting and in severe pain WITH IV morphine and Zofran, and as you can't have those at home, they've admitted him for observation and pain management.
Since Hotter isn't up to watching the other two MFA Children (although he seems to be on the mend), the XY took them back to his place and I'm writing this from a pull-out recliner by Middly's hospital bed.
I already missed more work last week being sick myself (a stomach bug passed through Casa MFA and felled us all one by one, although Middly was the vector and had fully recovered by Thursday when I dropped) than we can afford, so let's hope the ER doc who said this "looks surgical" was wrong, mmmkay?
On a personal note, this is the same hospital where Little Child and I lived for several chunks of his infancy, and I was fine until a nurse brought me some baby wipes to clean Middly up after a puke. Then I smelled the godawful cloying hospital-wipes perfume and came down with a serious case of tsuris. I hate this place, and while I have a "Calm" herbal teabag and am about to venture out to the "nourishment room" for hot water, I'd kind of rather run screaming to the nearest liquor store, or maybe take the elevator up to the psych ward and holler for some haldol.
Oooof.
Sent from The Precious
Thinking good thoughts for you and Middly (and Hotter)!
Posted by: Attorney At Large | April 14, 2012 at 11:29 PM
Ditto on the good thoughts. Not sure I can be much help from 3 hours away, but if you think of anything, let me know.
Posted by: Katie | April 15, 2012 at 06:59 AM
Oooof is right. I hope whatever it is passes quickly.
Posted by: Jackie | April 15, 2012 at 08:31 AM
Ultra-damnit. Fingers very tightly crossed all is well with poor Middly, poor poor child. And many soothing cold cloths to the head and stiff drinks to your good self.
Posted by: May | April 15, 2012 at 09:58 AM
Oh man, I hope things get better really soon. Thinking of you and your little dude. Hugs.
Posted by: monstergirlee | April 15, 2012 at 12:45 PM