Out of all my children, Micah is generally the most unpredictable. His labor was weird, he took a few more months than any other of my babies to get into routine, his eating habits are unpredictable, etc. Now, he usually doesn’t get sick. The last time I called the nurse line our bring him in for something before this was at 5-6 weeks for a sudden onset of excessive spitting up. We’ve had a good run. This fall has been THE WORST though for sick kids. Everyone is sick. We ran through so many bouts with the sniffles that I never got the kids in for a flu shot.
Then, right before Thanksgiving, the entire city started battling with a stomach bug or the flu or both. The stomach bug ran its course at our house, and I thought we would be fine, but less than two weeks later, Micah ends up with a fever and upper respiratory symptoms. Boo. I hunkered down with him and held him as we fought the low grade fever and other symptoms. Mostly, we turned on Curious George and let him nap in my arms, but he had a terrible time sleeping the night before and didn’t really seem any better today, so for the first time in almost two years, we called into the nurse line again. Hearing his symptoms, she said to bring him in in the next four hours.
So, I started preparing to bring him in. I lightened the diaper bag so I could easily carry him and it, and I grabbed a phone charger. That was all I needed because he was just going to sleep on me anyway like he had done all day long, plus he had been refusing food and drink, so we were good. Bryan buckled him in, and I took off. He was still super quiet. Usually, he has to tell you about every truck on the road, so I kept checking on him. I parked in the nonemergency lot which is good because the emergency lot was full, and I packed him in. We got checked in at the desk with assurances that it would be awhile because pediatrics was packed. I expected this since the whole city has been sick. So we sat down where I expected to snuggle a sleeping baby and repeatedly check Facebook and Twitter, but he popped his head up and starts telling me about the baby over in another seat and the grandpa (maka) with a hat.
Suddenly, he wants to get down and run around. It’s 8 pm. That’s past his bedtime. I didn’t bring any shoes along. I feel his forehead. The fever I haven’t been able to touch all day was suddenly gone. ARGH! This isn’t allowed. Oh well, we’re already checked in, at least we’ll make sure he doesn’t have an ear infection. I pull out my phone to let him watch some videos because he has no shoes and we’re in the germiest place in the city. I talk with him, walk around a bit, watch more videos. Around 10, we finally get back to take vitals after which we get sent back to the waiting room. I’m wishing we would have left. He was the cutest, most cheerful toddler getting vitals checked at 10 pm ever. I feel like a liar. The nurse assures me that this is common, and it would be good to get the ears checked anyway. I still feel awkward and reactionary. I want to say, “Hey, check my records! We have never actually been to the ER before! I’m not a crazy mama!” but I’m afraid that won’t really prove my point. Plus, if I was a crazy mama, I have a feeling that would be surreptitiously noted on our records.
So, we go back out. I start walking with him and singing trying to get him to get some rest. He mostly wants me to sing “wheels on the bus” and take requests for which verse to sing next. He likes to sing about dogs and cats best, and I cannot resist when he asks for cats by saying “menow, menow”. So cute. We sing, and he notices a baby. He says, “Hi Baby” to which the baby responds by blowing him kisses. This exchange is related several gloriously adorable times until he notices that the baby has milk. Now he wants milk, but I brought nothing because he was going to sleep the whole time and refuse food and drink. Thankfully, I have cash which I never do, and we head to the vending machine. They have milk there. It’s not whole milk, but he’s basically drank nothing for several hours. I think it will do except he doesn’t drink out of a milk jug yet. After several attempts which get his favorite shirt wet which he hates vehemently, I get an idea. Digging in the diaper bag, I find a pen. I rip the pen apart down to the barrel to MacGyver a straw. This is my finest parenting moment. He drinks some milk. We wait some more. Finally, around 11 we’re called back. After the resident and the supervising doc see us, we head home. He’s fine. The nurses, though, they may have fallen in love and had their hearts broken as he was bent on charming them.
The fever was fine all the next day. We had a slight recurrence on Wednesday and I thought for sure we were headed to ear infection town and another ER visit, but he rallied after a little Tylenol and has been fine, although with a small cough, ever since.
Have your kids ever been miraculously cured by a visit to the ER?