Two weeks ago, Gabe came up with strep throat. No big deal, antibiotics, yadda yadda. He seemed to improve over the next few days and then, BAM!, sick again. It was pretty weird; of the two boys, I’d more expect Connor to be sick with something-or-other. But this time, it was the big one. And it blew me away. His symptoms weren’t scary or anything — just peculiar. I took him in Monday for what seemed like a hardcore cold or maybe a weird strain of the flu. Anyway, long story short, they ran his pulse-ox and it was leveling out at 90 (it should be about 100). He was also super wheezy and congested. Diagnosis: Mycoplasma pneumonie, also known as “walking pneumonia”. There’s no telling how long he’d been walking around with it and I had just been chalking it up to him feeling generally crappy. So, while we were at the pedi’s office, they ran some breathing treatments to try and get his oxygen level to a good enough standing. After two or three treatments, it still hadn’t budged. His pedi admitted us to one of our local hospitals that afternoon and there we stayed until Thursday evening.
For all you parents out there who are constantly back-and-forth from doctor’s appointments and hospital stays, my hat’s off to you. Especially those of you with multiple kids. Lawd have mercy. As luck would have it, Evan was out of town the same week for work and I was alone with the kids. This is nothing new, in and of itself. But I’ve never had to rush one kid to the hospital and leave the other one hanging without a way to get to them… ever. Not knowing how I was going to get to Connor freaked me out just about as much as admitting Gabe into the hospital even for something that is, admittedly, not a big deal. Thankfully, my parents stepped up that evening and kept Connor while I stayed with Gabe. Ev’s mom kept him the night after and Evan was able to make it home by Wednesday. And thank God for that, because Wednesday was a whole other craptastic chain of events. The daycare called me not even thirty minutes after I’d dropped Con off to tell me he had fever and wouldn’t stop crying. Cue Sarah ripping out chunks of hair. I thought I was going to lose it right there in room 315. Gabe still hadn’t shown any improvement and had, in fact, worsened slightly. Adding Connor’s supposed sickness and leaving him stranded again was beyond agitating. But, again, my dad stepped up and I was able to go get Con — only to find that he did not have a fever and was not sick (thank GOD). I have a few theories on that, but that’s another post for another time. My brother’s girlfriend also saved the day and was able to relieve my dad at the hospital until the hubs could get home. Even for such a frustrating turn of events, I cannot, and could not, help but feel utterly grateful for the amount of help we received. It is good to know that I have so many people who I can rely on and who are willing to reach out to me when things feel hopeless.
I was able to stay with Gabe for the most part and he was a trooper. The staff was helpful and patient and our stay was not bad, considering. I slept on a pleather, rock-hard loveseat for three days and I am certain that I shrank two inches much to my waistline’s dismay. However, hospital food has a way of keep a person “on the regular” and there’s a good chance that it wasn’t just a fluke that my pants seemed to fit better (if it was a fluke, please don’t tell me). Come Wednesday, Gabe and I were both pretty much over being room-bound and we had to invent ways to entertain ourselves. Thank Jesus for smart phones and Instagram, y’all. And also for army men & hungry t-rex’s:
toys will be toys, after all.
At one point, a respiratory therapist came in and saw my dancing man and laughed out loud. I’m still not sure if he thought I was creative or just crazy. I’d be lying if I said I cared at that point in my life. Miraculously, Thursday morning, Gabe’s pulse-ox improved greatly and his wheezing was almost gone. One last x-ray showed that the cloudiness that had been pretty evident was disappearing and we were later discharged — HAPPY DANCE!
The past few days have been full of breathing treatments and getting back to (somewhat) normal. We’re never completely normal, though. Gabe’s getting back on his feet and Connor is ecstatic that his brother’s back home and his addiction to gummies can be a thing again. I’m pretty sure he was Jonesin’ hardcore for some gummies during that four day stretch. Now if we could just get Con’s sleep schedule back to a decent routine maybe I’ll stop feeling so zombiefied.