It's been nearly a week since my last blog, and what a week it's been...
First of all, an update on our feline friend, Domingo.
I had to travel to my office for work last week. Domingo stayed home with Chris while I took the kids to my very dear friend Petra's house so that she could watch them while I was away.
The first day in the office was very busy with back-to-back meetings, but I felt a buzz in my pocket around 2pm. It was Chris. He was asking me to call him when I could, but he stated that it was "not an emergency".
Well, having been married for over six years, I know my hubby well.
Any time he texts or calls out of the blue, especially when I am working, I know there is something of interest (whether good or bad) afoot.
It wasn't until much later, though, that I was able to text him back. He was now at work himself.
His text response brought the news that he had found a flyer in our mailbox...Domingo's owner was looking for him.
To make a long story short, Domingo (whose real name is "Church" - ironic that Domingo is Spanish for Sunday...) belonged to a five-year-old little girl a street and several houses over. He had been recently going outside with his older feline companion and had apparently lost his way.
This makes sense to me now, as the whole neighborhood is full of Victorian homes with porches. My guess is, he saw me standing in the doorway and decided that "yes, this must be my home", which would explain why he casually strolled thru the doorway.
Chris returned the kitty to his grateful owners, however, the kids and I were still out of town. I had been frequenting shelters and stores to find a "Domingo Replacement" to no avail. But I was unable to hide the scratch marks from several potentials on my arms, and Lucy was astute enough to spot them when I went to join her and Henry at Petra's house on Friday night.
I broke the news to her the best way I knew how - frank honesty followed by complete and total support of her emotions. (Henry's reaction was more of a "eh, ya snooze, ya lose"...)
Lucy's primary emotion was anger - not at Chris or me for returning the cat, not at the cat's owners, but aimed directly at Domingo...
"If Domingo comes to our house again and comes up on our porch, I'm going to close the door on him and not let him inside so he can't come in and leave again!!"
When we returned home on Saturday night and she saw the cat toys we had bought and went to look at Domingo's bowl, she broke down into very angry tears. She insisted on going to the front door to stare outside to see if he was coming back so that she could lock him out. And then, after we held her and validated her mix of sadness and anger, she went upstairs to her bedroom and started crying and yelling at Domingo thru her "imaginary therapist".
The plan was, we would go as a family on Sunday to pick out a cat.
However, those plans changed. Big time.
In the evening on Saturday, Chris took the kids to the park, as I was drained from being out and wasn't feeling well. Henry wasn't feeling well, either, but his was what appeared to be a plain ol' upper respiratory infection. (Mine was more of the "over-indulging on a Friday night and paying for it on a Saturday morning" kind.)
When Chris came back from the park with the kids, he said that, huh, Henry didn't want to play. That was our first clue...
Second clue was when he turned his nose up at pizza.
Finally, before bed and after several albuterol nebulizer treatments, he started to spike a fever. We tossed around taking him to the ER then but thought better of it because we thought he just needed a good night of sleep.
In the morning, his fever was still on. Not super high for a three-year-old; it was around 102.9. However, he once again shunned breakfast and just didn't "look right". After two nebs, I yanked out my stethoscope and took a listen. I have trained ears (I'm a nurse), and I was absolutely horrified by what I heard. He had crackles and wheezes throughout his lungs. And his color was pale. He was lethargic. He was just not our Henry.
So, we packed Henry up and I drove him to the local ER. This is his third visit in three months... Chris and Lucy stayed behind since we didn't think it would be too terribly serious, and ER staff loathe a crowded room.
When we got there, Nurse Deb, who has seen Henry on all his prior visits, had a look on her face that matched mine - something was definitely not right this time.
We put the pulse oximeter (which measures oxygen levels in the blood) and were both extremely unhappy with the number we saw: 89%. For a small child, it should be in the upper 90s or even 100%. Most adults are in the mid-to-upper 90s.
We were taken to another room, and another nurse came in to start Henry on O2. At this, Henry panicked because he knew that this wasn't going to result in a sticker and a ride back home with some meds.
The attending pediatrician came in, and he stated quite clearly that Henry needed better care than what our small community hospital could provide. So he was arranging for an ambulance transport to Peoria to the Children's Hospital of Illinois. While he was talking, Henry lay down on the gurney and fell sound asleep. He was so lethargic, the doctor got a little panicky and had to rouse him. He roused easily but fell immediately back to sleep. His belly was full of air, and his little chest painfully rose and fell rapidly, to the point where we could make out other bony structures (known in the medical world as "retracting"). His heart rate was high.
I called Chris to give him the status update, and he replied that he and Lucy were on their way.
Then it was the typical ER blur - it took four sticks from four different nurses to get brave Henry's IV started. He was incredible, even though they had to keep digging. Lucy was in hysterics watching and hearing her brother in pain while being told she must stay out of the way.
Once they had the IV in, he was given a dose of IV antibiotics and then had to be stuck (again!!!) for blood to check to see if he had any "blood infections".
This was followed by a trip to radiology for an x-ray of his chest. The techs gave him about seven rolls of stickers as a reward for his courage, and he then proceeded to cover his legs, arms and chest with stickers, almost every available square inch of his body, so that they would really have to look to try to stick him again.
Once ready for the ambulance, Henry kept asking if the police officers were ready for him. We kept reminding him that he was going in an ambulance, not a police car, but the idea didn't stick with him until he was actually loaded up and strapped in with seatbelts similar to what you would see in a race car. I rode along with him, and I had a similar apparatus attached to me. After about 20 minutes, Henry drifted back to sleep.
We were admitted to the hospital, and the events of the next 24 hours were far less exciting. Henry made leaps and bounds. The staff monitored him closely and weaned him off of the oxygen. He never really regained his appetite, but his fever resolved. The resident from the University of IL indicated to me that the antibiotic that was given was very strong, and he likely was responding to it.
Chris' family came to pick Lucy up and to visit with Henry. Again, more whirlwind.
After a semi-restless night of breathing treatments followed by chest exams that remained sketchy, Henry seemed to turn the final corner. The crackles had resolved mostly. He still sounded a little "gunky" and wheezy, but he was greatly improved.
The next morning, the nurse came in and unhooked his IV fluids and even took him off the pulse oximeter. She declared "Go! Be free!" and directed us to the pediatric activity room. Henry played for over an hour, until he began to get sleepy.
We didn't find out until much later that he was going home, and the pediatrician who had admitted him in the first place wasn't resolute in his decision. His basis for discharging Henry was that he had been off of oxygen long enough.
Henry was thrilled when they came in to take out his IV, and he actually was able to pull it out himself (he was so proud). We took a tubby to wipe off residual hospital tape and put on fresh PJs. I promised him a trip to the store to pick out some special cars or trucks.
We went to Farm King, and Henry chose for himself some diecast semi-trucks. He and I went to bed fairly quickly - he slept in Chris' chair, I slept on the sofa.
Today, his appetite is coming back slowly. He's been started on his new neb, and he's also on steroids. The pediatrician says he can probably go back to school tomorrow, depending upon how he is doing.
It's almost 9pm - both children are sound asleep. I hear no random coughing or wheezing.
I think Ms. Jean and the other trusty staff at Henry's preschool can handle his "'roid rage" tomorrow....
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