Tuesday, February 08, 2011

Walk of Shame?

Left for work in the sun-not-quite-up hour yesterday morning.  Came home at 10:00 this morning wearing someone else's pants and T-shirt. 

Wild night partying?  I freaking wish.

Let me just start by saying there are some oddball traditions in my family that we really like.  Having Mad and Fynn delivered by nurses because there was no way for the doc to arrive in time (after ridiculous labors... I earned it!) is one.

And then there is the "my daughter had her first ride in an ambulance" tradition.  Tom and I are really over that one.

Went to pick up the girls yesterday evening.  Fynn felt a little warm.  Temperature was 101.4 and she wasn't quite herself.  However, I am usually driving her home by then, and she does sleep for about half of the trip.  I called the doc anyway and got guidelines for taking her to urgent care, as well as advice on managing things at home.  Tom spoke with his very knowledgeable mom who agreed with the doc.

As we'd just given Fynn acetaminophen before the doctor called, we decided to wait for her fever to go down (101.9 when the medication was given) before trekking home.  Ten minutes later I said that she seemed to be cooling down.  Margaret checked her temp again. 

Down?  Not even close.  It was 105.  I feel like an idiot who will never trust my hands and lips again.

We packed her up and headed straight to the car.  Just as I was about to put her in, she had a seizure.  My ability to communicate was sub-par.  All I told Tom was that we weren't going; call 911!

He had problems calling from his PDA (yes, I am working on my own words for what PDA really means).  He used Margaret's phone, but it was soon clear he didn't know what the hell was going on.  We got it straightened out and within 2 minutes help arrived.

Seeing the fire truck pull up brought back hard memories of Madelyn's injury, but they were quickly replaced with questions that needed to be answered.  Stupid easy questions took me a half-second longer to answer than they should.

What's her middle name?

*internally* Does she have a middle name?

We were advised to transport her via ambulance to the nearest hospital... (where she was born) a place we trust completely.  I rode with her.

When Mad and I went in the ambulance, she was calm and relaxed.  Not so with Fynn.  I was wearing some five- (or more) point harness, so it was tough to reach her.  I felt like I was fighting a parachute in the wind, but I managed to hold her hand, sometimes a foot, too.

I'll spare the minute-by-hour in the ER.  After Motrin was administered she actually perked back up.  That was more than doubly good because it meant she did not need to have a spinal tap to rule out meningitis.  Her lungs sounded perfectly clear, which meant we did not have to get chest X-rays.  The only diagnosis that couldn't be made without testing was regarding a bladder infection.  Fynn and I cried together as she was catheterized long enough to collect urine.  But the urine turned out to be clear.

It's a virus.  It's probably the same nasty virus that Tom, my mom and Corey all had this weekend.  It's miserable. 

We were released late last night into an ER lobby that was shockingly full of waiting babies and children. I'm so grateful that we were encouraged to take the ride in, as we were given a bed within a few minutes of arriving. Who knows how long we would have waited otherwise.  The three of us headed back to Dad and Margaret's, where we spent the night.  Neighbors from up and down the street dropped by to make sure Fynn was okay this morning.  That's the sort of neighborhood we need.

Mad and I are coming down with it, too.  But we know what to look for.  Tom is at the store now buying the girls their own bottles of acetaminophen, extra tissues, an ear thermometer and lots of water, Pedialyte and Gatorade.  Mad's been napping for two hours.  Fynn's been nursing and napping all morning.  I can't get out of this chair or I'd be asleep, too.  The good news is that Tom's feeling a lot better.  It gives us an idea of what to expect.  Plus, we're getting to spend the day together during the week, which is so rare.  (Yep, looking for all of the silver linings I can find right now.) 


Bossy said...

Oh no! I hope everyone is better real soon, and your ambulance traditions become a thing of the past.

Anti-Supermom said...

Shan! What a completely horrible story! I'm so happy that Fynn is OK now, but geesh what a story.

And if I remember, you were sick too. I hope *everyone* is doing better!

Bossy Betty said...

Oh for heaven's sake--you have been through it, honey. Yikes. You must be exhausted. SO glad Fynn is OK! The emotional toll is worse than the physical exhaustion. Sending you all hugs!!!

Brooke said...

Oh Shan!! Glad to hear Fynn is ok and hope that you all get better really quickly!!

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