Saturday, November 24, 2007
relief
The Boy is doing better, much better. We will still spend the next few days dealing with the last remnants of the pneumonia. He feels better. He has his smile back. He still is desatting in the early morning hours, but he let me sleep until about 6:30 before we heard the all too familiar alarm this morning and a simple shift in his position improved things.
I don't think The Boy will go to school next week, at least not the first few days. I'm not planning to go in on Monday either. The Boy has a follow up doctor's appointment that afternoon which will take some time and quite honestly I am seriously in need of a "mental health day".
This morning I find the cold rain actually quite refreshing and somewhat invigorating. I got up about an hour ago. I gave The Boy his morning meds, a bit of food and tucked him all snugly back in underneath the neon polyester quilt my grandmothers made for me thirty some years ago. Although those grandmothers have long since left this world, there is something very comforting in the continuity of family that represents. I told him it was early and to go back to sleep, but I don't think he will do so. I hear him giggling and laughing on the monitor as I type these words.
The Wife and I have slept more soundly than we have in the past couple weeks. We are still getting up every two hours throughout the night to check and turn The Boy, but now he is well enough so that it does not take both of us to handle it. We trade turns so that we each get at least four hours of uninterrupted sleep. The anxiety and fear of the darkness has past.
She still sleeps soundly. Before I got up I spent a few moments lying beside her, watching her as she slept. She is beautiful. As strange as this may sound, or possibly not, this ordeal has made her even more beautiful to me. In times of crisis you either bind closer together or you fall apart. We picked the first one. I am truly blessed to have found a partner in this life who balances and completes me so fully. I feel as though this has brought us even closer together. A week from now brings our seventh anniversary together. She is the only one who can scratch the seven year itch.
So yeah, I have to admit it's getting better, a little better all the time.
This is the long holiday weekend for it, but I would do so just the same if it were March or July, or whenever. I give much thanks, and these humble words glowing at you now upon your screen do little to convey the depth of my emotions. I thank you, my dear reader, for your calls and your emails and your comments. I thank you for your prayers, your wisdom, your support and your love.
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I don't think The Boy will go to school next week, at least not the first few days. I'm not planning to go in on Monday either. The Boy has a follow up doctor's appointment that afternoon which will take some time and quite honestly I am seriously in need of a "mental health day".
This morning I find the cold rain actually quite refreshing and somewhat invigorating. I got up about an hour ago. I gave The Boy his morning meds, a bit of food and tucked him all snugly back in underneath the neon polyester quilt my grandmothers made for me thirty some years ago. Although those grandmothers have long since left this world, there is something very comforting in the continuity of family that represents. I told him it was early and to go back to sleep, but I don't think he will do so. I hear him giggling and laughing on the monitor as I type these words.
The Wife and I have slept more soundly than we have in the past couple weeks. We are still getting up every two hours throughout the night to check and turn The Boy, but now he is well enough so that it does not take both of us to handle it. We trade turns so that we each get at least four hours of uninterrupted sleep. The anxiety and fear of the darkness has past.
She still sleeps soundly. Before I got up I spent a few moments lying beside her, watching her as she slept. She is beautiful. As strange as this may sound, or possibly not, this ordeal has made her even more beautiful to me. In times of crisis you either bind closer together or you fall apart. We picked the first one. I am truly blessed to have found a partner in this life who balances and completes me so fully. I feel as though this has brought us even closer together. A week from now brings our seventh anniversary together. She is the only one who can scratch the seven year itch.
So yeah, I have to admit it's getting better, a little better all the time.
This is the long holiday weekend for it, but I would do so just the same if it were March or July, or whenever. I give much thanks, and these humble words glowing at you now upon your screen do little to convey the depth of my emotions. I thank you, my dear reader, for your calls and your emails and your comments. I thank you for your prayers, your wisdom, your support and your love.
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neither did i
"Eric Clapton did not have sex sober until he was in his 30s due to his booze and drug use, he has revealed."Who has?
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Friday, November 23, 2007
frazzled
Home for the holiday, yes. But if you will please allow me, my dear reader, the indulgence of another cheesy holiday metaphor; if a week in the hospital was the river we are over it but we are not yet through the woods.
I'm ranting. . .
I awoke around 5:30 this morning to the sound of that all too familiar beeping, "bee-bee-beep bee-beep".
Pulse-oximeter alarming. The Boy's blood oxygen dropping down. "Desat" or "desatting" is what they called it in the hospital. That's the prefix "de-" as in getting less and going down; and "sat" as in saturation, the level to which his blood his saturated with oxygen.
It's just something he's done at least once every night since this whole ordeal began. On a good night, it means that his position has shifted and he's curled up or something. You simply reposition him, i.e. straighten him up to keep his airway open, and tuck him back in all snuggly like with his sleepy frog. It takes less than five minutes and The Wife and I can be back asleep in less than ten.
On a bad night, you spend an hour or two wrestling with positioning and repositioning and everything you can think of praying that works because you don't want him to wake up because frequently when wakes up in the middle of the night it scares him and then he freaks out and things just go all to hell for a little bit.
If he wakes up, or more accurately when, because you're fucking with him every few minutes, turning his head this way, twisting his hips that way, placing his arm here, trying to find the optimum spot to fully open up his airway; you have to decide if he needs to be suctioned or not, or does he need a nebulizer breathing treatment, should you try to get him to cough so he can clear some of the gunk on his own, or should you just tuck him back in and leave him alone so he calms down and goes back to sleep. He's a very complicated little creature and there are no quick or easy answers and your every option is a crap shoot anyway because what worked last time may not work this time. Or maybe it will. Or maybe it will make things worse.
On a really bad night you do all those things for eight or nine straight hours.
This wasn't the worse night by far of the past two weeks (now into number three), but it was also not the best.
The Wife has been in full momma bear mode for two weeks. She is fully exhausted. I am also, but that's a different story. So around 5:45 or so this morning, I reassured her "things are fine, I can handle it, I'll stay with The Boy until he's breathing better and falls back asleep. Go back to bed honey, I'll be there in a few minutes."
Wrong.
Two hours later and he's all right but not good, which is to say that he is not good, but not critical. He just keeps bouncing around that line. His sats go up, his sats go down. I finally give up and decide it's time for a little stronger intervention. He needs a neb treatment. He needs CPT. I can't remember what the damn initials stand for but we use this electric percussive device, similar to a massager to shake up his chest to knock mucous and gunk loose in his lungs.
This means waking him up and moving him into the living room where we have it all set up.
I set up the neb treatment and get everything ready. I turn on the TV. Where's the remote? I look, I search, I move all the couch cushions and pillows and blankets. Where's the remote? Where's the damn remote? Where's the mother fucking remote control? I start to freak a little. I literally pick the couch up and turn it over and shake it. Where is the fucking remote control?
In almost a panic because I can't find the damn thing I wake up The Wife. She is groggy but reassuring. She finds it in about 30 seconds.
Long story short (right), it's now two hours later. The Wife is back asleep. The Boy is now breathing easier and sound asleep on the couch. I'm on my second cup of heavily spiked with Irish whiskey coffee and am finally feeling calmer.
The Boy has never been this sick for this long. This has got to end soon.
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I'm ranting. . .
I awoke around 5:30 this morning to the sound of that all too familiar beeping, "bee-bee-beep bee-beep".
Pulse-oximeter alarming. The Boy's blood oxygen dropping down. "Desat" or "desatting" is what they called it in the hospital. That's the prefix "de-" as in getting less and going down; and "sat" as in saturation, the level to which his blood his saturated with oxygen.
It's just something he's done at least once every night since this whole ordeal began. On a good night, it means that his position has shifted and he's curled up or something. You simply reposition him, i.e. straighten him up to keep his airway open, and tuck him back in all snuggly like with his sleepy frog. It takes less than five minutes and The Wife and I can be back asleep in less than ten.
On a bad night, you spend an hour or two wrestling with positioning and repositioning and everything you can think of praying that works because you don't want him to wake up because frequently when wakes up in the middle of the night it scares him and then he freaks out and things just go all to hell for a little bit.
If he wakes up, or more accurately when, because you're fucking with him every few minutes, turning his head this way, twisting his hips that way, placing his arm here, trying to find the optimum spot to fully open up his airway; you have to decide if he needs to be suctioned or not, or does he need a nebulizer breathing treatment, should you try to get him to cough so he can clear some of the gunk on his own, or should you just tuck him back in and leave him alone so he calms down and goes back to sleep. He's a very complicated little creature and there are no quick or easy answers and your every option is a crap shoot anyway because what worked last time may not work this time. Or maybe it will. Or maybe it will make things worse.
On a really bad night you do all those things for eight or nine straight hours.
This wasn't the worse night by far of the past two weeks (now into number three), but it was also not the best.
The Wife has been in full momma bear mode for two weeks. She is fully exhausted. I am also, but that's a different story. So around 5:45 or so this morning, I reassured her "things are fine, I can handle it, I'll stay with The Boy until he's breathing better and falls back asleep. Go back to bed honey, I'll be there in a few minutes."
Wrong.
Two hours later and he's all right but not good, which is to say that he is not good, but not critical. He just keeps bouncing around that line. His sats go up, his sats go down. I finally give up and decide it's time for a little stronger intervention. He needs a neb treatment. He needs CPT. I can't remember what the damn initials stand for but we use this electric percussive device, similar to a massager to shake up his chest to knock mucous and gunk loose in his lungs.
This means waking him up and moving him into the living room where we have it all set up.
I set up the neb treatment and get everything ready. I turn on the TV. Where's the remote? I look, I search, I move all the couch cushions and pillows and blankets. Where's the remote? Where's the damn remote? Where's the mother fucking remote control? I start to freak a little. I literally pick the couch up and turn it over and shake it. Where is the fucking remote control?
In almost a panic because I can't find the damn thing I wake up The Wife. She is groggy but reassuring. She finds it in about 30 seconds.
Long story short (right), it's now two hours later. The Wife is back asleep. The Boy is now breathing easier and sound asleep on the couch. I'm on my second cup of heavily spiked with Irish whiskey coffee and am finally feeling calmer.
The Boy has never been this sick for this long. This has got to end soon.
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Thursday, November 22, 2007
home
Surprise, surprise, surprise.
We are home from the hospital.
We had a better day yesterday than either The Wife and I imagined possible. Chalk another one up to the strength, tenacity, and just plain stubborn will of The Boy. He truly is an amazing creature.
By mid afternoon he was totally off oxygen and breathing regular room air like the rest of us and was a tired and slightly crankier version of his regular self. The hospital had no reason to keep us. The night shift nurses came on duty at 7:00 and harassed the doctor on duty until he agreed to discharge The Boy and send us home. We have been home since around 10:00 pm.
The worst is over, but we still have several days to go before we completely clear this hurdle.
We are home, we are still very tired, but we are very happy.
On this day I much for which to give thanks.
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We are home from the hospital.
We had a better day yesterday than either The Wife and I imagined possible. Chalk another one up to the strength, tenacity, and just plain stubborn will of The Boy. He truly is an amazing creature.
By mid afternoon he was totally off oxygen and breathing regular room air like the rest of us and was a tired and slightly crankier version of his regular self. The hospital had no reason to keep us. The night shift nurses came on duty at 7:00 and harassed the doctor on duty until he agreed to discharge The Boy and send us home. We have been home since around 10:00 pm.
The worst is over, but we still have several days to go before we completely clear this hurdle.
We are home, we are still very tired, but we are very happy.
On this day I much for which to give thanks.
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Tuesday, November 20, 2007
pneumonia nights, update 4
Or more precisely, pneumonia morning.
And what a night it has been.
The first few hours were golden. The Boy slept peacefully, he was breathing well and sustaining his blood oxygen levels on the lowest amount of oxygen since we've been here. Around 2:00 am he woke up coughing and freaked out.
He's got to stop doing that. It's starting to get to me. And more importantly, he's got to stop scaring the hospital staff. Sometime between 4 and 5 we had the nurse and the respiratory therapist in here working with him, trying to get him just to fucking breath better. They were trying to hide it, but they were nervous and they were scared. And that's what scares me. The Boy doesn't scare me. People's reactions to The Boy when he is sick do.
But his oxygen sats were dropping and nothing was working.
Sometimes nothing does. It's just one of his quirks, something he's always done. His illness makes everything more exaggerated and dangerous. You just have to throw your hands in the air or fold them in prayer and give him time to come out of it on his own. He always does. He did last night.
We have begun very uncomfortable and unpleasant conversations with a wonderful doctor about what we will do if and when the time comes when he doesn't.
But again, last night he did. He is an amazingly tenacious and strong kid. Although it has been a rough 4 hours, he is again calm and breathing easier. He is almost fast asleep.
And I'm feeling just plain three steps beyond frazzled.
I just keep telling myself, "he is getting better, he is getting better."
We will be here for Thanksgiving, but hopefully not much longer.
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And what a night it has been.
The first few hours were golden. The Boy slept peacefully, he was breathing well and sustaining his blood oxygen levels on the lowest amount of oxygen since we've been here. Around 2:00 am he woke up coughing and freaked out.
He's got to stop doing that. It's starting to get to me. And more importantly, he's got to stop scaring the hospital staff. Sometime between 4 and 5 we had the nurse and the respiratory therapist in here working with him, trying to get him just to fucking breath better. They were trying to hide it, but they were nervous and they were scared. And that's what scares me. The Boy doesn't scare me. People's reactions to The Boy when he is sick do.
But his oxygen sats were dropping and nothing was working.
Sometimes nothing does. It's just one of his quirks, something he's always done. His illness makes everything more exaggerated and dangerous. You just have to throw your hands in the air or fold them in prayer and give him time to come out of it on his own. He always does. He did last night.
We have begun very uncomfortable and unpleasant conversations with a wonderful doctor about what we will do if and when the time comes when he doesn't.
But again, last night he did. He is an amazingly tenacious and strong kid. Although it has been a rough 4 hours, he is again calm and breathing easier. He is almost fast asleep.
And I'm feeling just plain three steps beyond frazzled.
I just keep telling myself, "he is getting better, he is getting better."
We will be here for Thanksgiving, but hopefully not much longer.
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Monday, November 19, 2007
pneumonia nights, update 3
I am taking the night shift tonight at the hospital. The Wife has been a virtual machine of motherly concern and care. She has spent the past four nights sleeping in short segments between the beepings and people coming in all night to do Lord only knows what it is they do in the middle of the freakin' night in the hospital. That's on top of the prior week of little to no sleep we had before we came here last Thursday. She is a borderline zombie. She went home to get a good night sleep. My mother is here for another night to offer her support and use her special power that all grandmothers possess to soothe and comfort.
At the moment all is calm and all is certainly lighter if not yet bright.
The Boy has made definite progress, and his lungs begin to clear so does my fear. I spoke with a friend today who has been checking this forum regularly for updates. He was concerned that I was sounding rather down. True, quite true. Things have been very difficult and life or death serious. The outcome when we came in last Thursday morning was by no means certain.
This illness has forced The Wife and I to address an 800 pound gorilla in the room and start discussing and soon deciding just what we will do, what choices we will make if and when that day comes when. . .
See, I'm not even ready to type it. It is a reality we do our best to ignore. But The Boy does have chronic ongoing serious health issues that put him constantly at risk for very serious things. We generally don't think about it because he is so consistently healthy. We do a great job managing his care and that is something in which I take great pride.
This past week has been a cruel reminder of just how fragile this house of cards is. We have found a doctor who is truly amazing. She is helping us to address those issues with deep thoughts and serious discussions.
But tonight is not the time for those.
The Boy is breathing much easier tonight, and resting more comfortably than he has in days. Although he is not quite yet asleep, the sweet voice of Brandi Carlile on the iPod will soon lull him there. He is getting well, but I still think we will be lucky if we are home on Thanksgiving.
That is all for now. I must try to get some rest while I am able. Strange things happen in the middle of the night in hospitals.
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At the moment all is calm and all is certainly lighter if not yet bright.
The Boy has made definite progress, and his lungs begin to clear so does my fear. I spoke with a friend today who has been checking this forum regularly for updates. He was concerned that I was sounding rather down. True, quite true. Things have been very difficult and life or death serious. The outcome when we came in last Thursday morning was by no means certain.
This illness has forced The Wife and I to address an 800 pound gorilla in the room and start discussing and soon deciding just what we will do, what choices we will make if and when that day comes when. . .
See, I'm not even ready to type it. It is a reality we do our best to ignore. But The Boy does have chronic ongoing serious health issues that put him constantly at risk for very serious things. We generally don't think about it because he is so consistently healthy. We do a great job managing his care and that is something in which I take great pride.
This past week has been a cruel reminder of just how fragile this house of cards is. We have found a doctor who is truly amazing. She is helping us to address those issues with deep thoughts and serious discussions.
But tonight is not the time for those.
The Boy is breathing much easier tonight, and resting more comfortably than he has in days. Although he is not quite yet asleep, the sweet voice of Brandi Carlile on the iPod will soon lull him there. He is getting well, but I still think we will be lucky if we are home on Thanksgiving.
That is all for now. I must try to get some rest while I am able. Strange things happen in the middle of the night in hospitals.
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how low
the once mighty God of Thunder has fallen.
(Back at the hospital. The Wife and Boy are sleeping. The Boy had an okay night and is doing well this morning minus the whole really sick with pneumonia still on high levels of oxygen thing. I'm taking a moment to get caught up on the news of the day).
`Celebrity Apprentice' Stars Announced
Gene Simmons?
Rock and roll?
Hardly.
That's almost as sad as the Sex Pistols on Leno.
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(Back at the hospital. The Wife and Boy are sleeping. The Boy had an okay night and is doing well this morning minus the whole really sick with pneumonia still on high levels of oxygen thing. I'm taking a moment to get caught up on the news of the day).
`Celebrity Apprentice' Stars Announced
Gene Simmons?
Rock and roll?
Hardly.
That's almost as sad as the Sex Pistols on Leno.
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turning a corner?
Cross your fingers, my dear reader. Knock on wood and pray to whatever god you think will answer. . .
Today was better, if only by a little.
The Boy is still a very sick little boy.
I fear a hospital Thanksgiving is likely.
(They do have an awesome cafeteria for a hospital so maybe the meal part of the holiday won't completely suck ass.)
However. . .
I just got home from another sixteen or so hour day at the hospital. The Wife is there to keep an eye on The Boy. My mom is there to keep an eye on her. Someone has to take care of the dogs. I'll be back bright and early tomorrow morning.
They took a new chest x-ray today and it shows some improvement from the one that was taken when we went to the ER on Thursday morning. But his lungs are still "full of crap" as I believe his pulmonologist stated when he popped by this afternoon.
He is still on an insanely high level of oxygen and not enough of it is getting through. But he smiled today. He smiled several times when The Wife or I kissed him on the cheek and told him that we love him. He smiled at his grandma when she sat next to him and held his hand.
His fighting spirit is also returning. He is starting to squirm, twist and try to pull away when the respiratory therapists come in and try to hold a mask on his face to administer medication via a nebulizer breathing treatment. That's also a good sign. He is alert and aware enough to be mother fucking pissed that he's in the hospital and strangers are fucking with him.
He is "well enough to know that he feels really bad" is how I have been describing it to the various hospital folks.
Even though he is still sick as all fuck and things could still very easily go all straigt to Hell again like they did on Wednesday night, I am finally starting to feel that we are approaching the top of this hill. And The Boy smiled.
And that's progress to me.
Without that I'd be on my 10th or 11th day of little to no sleep. I have just been to busy anxious, to nervous and scared. We have all been running on adrenaline from the nearly non-stop stress and drama of the situation. Sleep has not so much been sleep but just shutting off for an hour or two or three out of sheer exhaustion. But he smiled, and the fear of the unspeakable that has gnawed in my gut for the past week or so is beginning fade because I do think he is on the mend. So I shall go and lay me down to sleep, perchance to dream.
Thank you very much thank you, good day. . .
Good night, and good luck. . .
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Today was better, if only by a little.
The Boy is still a very sick little boy.
I fear a hospital Thanksgiving is likely.
(They do have an awesome cafeteria for a hospital so maybe the meal part of the holiday won't completely suck ass.)
However. . .
I just got home from another sixteen or so hour day at the hospital. The Wife is there to keep an eye on The Boy. My mom is there to keep an eye on her. Someone has to take care of the dogs. I'll be back bright and early tomorrow morning.
They took a new chest x-ray today and it shows some improvement from the one that was taken when we went to the ER on Thursday morning. But his lungs are still "full of crap" as I believe his pulmonologist stated when he popped by this afternoon.
He is still on an insanely high level of oxygen and not enough of it is getting through. But he smiled today. He smiled several times when The Wife or I kissed him on the cheek and told him that we love him. He smiled at his grandma when she sat next to him and held his hand.
His fighting spirit is also returning. He is starting to squirm, twist and try to pull away when the respiratory therapists come in and try to hold a mask on his face to administer medication via a nebulizer breathing treatment. That's also a good sign. He is alert and aware enough to be mother fucking pissed that he's in the hospital and strangers are fucking with him.
He is "well enough to know that he feels really bad" is how I have been describing it to the various hospital folks.
Even though he is still sick as all fuck and things could still very easily go all straigt to Hell again like they did on Wednesday night, I am finally starting to feel that we are approaching the top of this hill. And The Boy smiled.
And that's progress to me.
Without that I'd be on my 10th or 11th day of little to no sleep. I have just been to busy anxious, to nervous and scared. We have all been running on adrenaline from the nearly non-stop stress and drama of the situation. Sleep has not so much been sleep but just shutting off for an hour or two or three out of sheer exhaustion. But he smiled, and the fear of the unspeakable that has gnawed in my gut for the past week or so is beginning fade because I do think he is on the mend. So I shall go and lay me down to sleep, perchance to dream.
Thank you very much thank you, good day. . .
Good night, and good luck. . .
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Sunday, November 18, 2007
missing the point
Sunday, day 4 at the hospital, day 10 (I think) of The Boy with pneumonia.
It's scary as all hell, frustrating as fuck and I can't honestly say that I think things are improving. He's back up to 10 liters of oxygen so empirical evidence of his improvement is also somewhat lacking. He's just so fucking miserable.
The Wife said she's having a down day, so I need to put on my bravest face and make mine an up day. I hope I can pull off the charade.
In an effort to provide some distraction from spending the hours staring at the damn numbers on the monitors or pacing nervously around the room (remember, up day), this morning I brought in a couple entertaining items from the mail that has been steadily piling up since The Boy got sick.
One of the things is an Urban Outfitters catalog. One of the featured items in the catalog. . . .
The Charlie Brown Christmas tree
Perhaps they've never watched the program.
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It's scary as all hell, frustrating as fuck and I can't honestly say that I think things are improving. He's back up to 10 liters of oxygen so empirical evidence of his improvement is also somewhat lacking. He's just so fucking miserable.
The Wife said she's having a down day, so I need to put on my bravest face and make mine an up day. I hope I can pull off the charade.
In an effort to provide some distraction from spending the hours staring at the damn numbers on the monitors or pacing nervously around the room (remember, up day), this morning I brought in a couple entertaining items from the mail that has been steadily piling up since The Boy got sick.
One of the things is an Urban Outfitters catalog. One of the featured items in the catalog. . . .
The Charlie Brown Christmas tree
Perhaps they've never watched the program.
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Saturday, November 17, 2007
carnival of misfortune
People in my family who have gone to a hospital Emergency Room during the past week (in chronological order):
I do not know what I have done to offend thee or others who may look down upon me and toy with my fate while spreading chaos and sowing the seeds of despair unto my humble mortal existence.
But I do know this. . .
You need to cut it the fuck out because I am really sick of this shit.
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The Nurse: (Family by word and deed if not family by blood or marriage, she has known loved and cared for The Boy almost as long as have The Wife and I) postpartum complications, striking rather oddly but not unheard of about six weeks after the baby was born. The prognosis is very positive provided she rest and take care of herself. -- Sunday, and again on like Monday or was it Tuesday? Hell, I can't remember.Oh Mighty Eris! Oh Great Loki!
The Boy: pneumonia, very very very nasty pneumonia, the sickest he has ever been. The prognosis is cautiously optimistic, but not by any means certain. While the dreamlike semi-euphoric state caused by continual sleep deprivation helps to prevent me from being as scared shitless as I should be, it's does little to stop me from crying. -- Thursday
The Wife's Brother: intense crippling abdominal and lower back pain caused by kidney stones. The prognosis is he will remain high on Lortab (lucky bastard) until all five yes five have passed, hopefully by today. -- Thursday
My Mother: who was so worried and preoccupied with thoughts of The Boy's ER visit she somehow managed to hit her head on an RV compartment door with such force the injury required seven staples to close. She almost knocked herself out. The prognosis is full recovery and jokes at my mother's expense at future family gatherings. -- Thursday
The Wife's Grandfather: heart attack. The prognosis is apparently positive, additional diagnostic assessments will be done on Monday. -- Friday
I do not know what I have done to offend thee or others who may look down upon me and toy with my fate while spreading chaos and sowing the seeds of despair unto my humble mortal existence.
But I do know this. . .
You need to cut it the fuck out because I am really sick of this shit.
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Thursday, November 15, 2007
pneumonia nights, update 2
Okay, so I was off by a little, we saw the sunlight first. We made it until 8:00 am until we left for the ER. The Boy just plain wore himself out. As did The Wife and I. Things just had reached a point where we had run out of ideas and options. We could not keep The Boy's oxygen levels up.
The Boy is there now, in the ER at the new children's hospital (thank you Michael Dell?) with The Wife and her mom. We are waiting for a room to open up so he can be moved up to the floor. I'm not quite sure, everything was a blur and a whirl, but I believe he got a diagnosis of viral pneumonia. We expect he will be there a few days.
I ran home to take care of the dogs, to grab a few things and to take a long hot shower.
When I left he was sleeping soundly if not quite comfortably and the hospital oxygen was cranked to their version of 11. I'm happy to report it's working.
The woods just got a little deeper, but I am optimistic if not quite fully confident that now we have a path out.
We are hoping to have him home for Thanksgiving.
I just sat down and realized I'm shaking.
Cripes man, does this ever suck. It always does.
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The Boy is there now, in the ER at the new children's hospital (thank you Michael Dell?) with The Wife and her mom. We are waiting for a room to open up so he can be moved up to the floor. I'm not quite sure, everything was a blur and a whirl, but I believe he got a diagnosis of viral pneumonia. We expect he will be there a few days.
I ran home to take care of the dogs, to grab a few things and to take a long hot shower.
When I left he was sleeping soundly if not quite comfortably and the hospital oxygen was cranked to their version of 11. I'm happy to report it's working.
The woods just got a little deeper, but I am optimistic if not quite fully confident that now we have a path out.
We are hoping to have him home for Thanksgiving.
I just sat down and realized I'm shaking.
Cripes man, does this ever suck. It always does.
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pneumonia nights, update 1
Thursday, I think. The past week has just been one long endless day.
Things are not good.
I'm not a gambler, so I am not sure whether it is time to hold 'em or fold 'em. But it would probably be a safe bet to wager that we see the lights of the ER before we see the light of the morning sun.
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Things are not good.
I'm not a gambler, so I am not sure whether it is time to hold 'em or fold 'em. But it would probably be a safe bet to wager that we see the lights of the ER before we see the light of the morning sun.
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Tuesday, November 13, 2007
pneumonia nights
Okay, so like it's almost 10:00 pm and I'm sucking down the second half of a bottle of Strawberry Hill poured over ice into a big plastic cup with a green bendy straw.
Yeah, I know, it seems just like any ol' regular normal night.
But it's not.
Tonight is night number six.
I am tired, very tired. The Wife is tired, very tired.
And as for the The Boy. . .
Well, he's got a really nasty case of freakin' pneumonia. He came down with it last Thursday. The Wife and I are convinced that this is the sickest he has ever been, even more so than his last hospitalization.
We are very proud of the fact that we have thus far kept him out of the hospital. Although we still have a bag packed by the door so we can be ready to go at a moment's notice. And there's been a couple times over the past few days when I had that bag in my hand.
To say it sucks giant ass is really an understatement. It has been a constant struggle to keep his lungs clear enough to breath. He has been on oxygen for six days. We have pulled out all the machinery, up to and including the ones that go "ping": nebulizers, concentrators, percussors, pulse-oximeters, enteral feeding pumps.
Our days and nights are a whirl of buzzing and beeping.
Providing round the clock care continues to be exhausting. To provide some relief and moral support my mother-in-law came on Monday. Ain't nothing like a sick kid to make a grandma come running. My mom is swapping out and taking her shift this weekend.
We are not out of the woods, but perhaps the trees are thinning.
The Boy just feels freakin' miserable.
The Wife and I just feel helpless. And more than a little scared.
More info and updates later, I need to try to get a few moments sleep while I am able to do so. Another long night is about to begin.
Yawn.
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Monday, November 12, 2007
photo essay
Saturday, November 03, 2007
the time is now
