Thursday, September 21, 2006

still ill

Until three weeks ago when we saw another doctor because Daniel had felt a bit warm the night before, not feverish mind, warm, and because my regular doctor had said that if Daniel gets ill with his ear infection, ie spikes a fever, give him the antibiotics, but only if, Daniel had been holding his own. He's copped his fair share of colds, but never really got more than a sniffle out of them. In the mean time, probably because of the never ending nature of all these damn rhinoviruses (virii?) his ears had become a bit bunged up. I of course, went down for the count with each one, sans ear issues, but ol' sporky? He just kept on being the delicious, albeit snotty, goob he usually is. His regular doctor had given us a script, but had said to hold off on the antibiotics until he got ill and/or spiked a fever. Being the indecisive fuck that I am , when Daniel felt that bit warmer than usual, I couldn't decide if 'a bit warm' equalled 'raging fever', so along we went. This new doctor said Daniel didn't have temperature, but that a 'leetle antibiotic, just a leetle one' would do him the world of good, and would get rid of that mild infection he had in his right ear. 'But', I said, 'last week there were two infections and we held off then. Aren't we half way to happy ears already?' while feeling guilty because second guessing my motives is what I'm about. She coaxed, I ummed, then I canned the guilt by filling the script, and cultived a newer, fresher guilt for the four mils of the crap that I poured down the boy's throat twice each day - and waddya know, it only took three days of this for Daniel to develop bronchiolitis, get the gooey eyes, and to top it off with stereo juicy ear infectons, so we got a new script, one that entailed steroids (!) and a different, more kick ass antibiotic.

The dirty hippy in me is convinced that it was the original dabbing of the metaphorical toe into the metaphoric pond of all things antibiotic that knocked his immune system and made things go from cruising along to the two trips to the emergency ward we've taken this week.

Since the wee hours of Sunday morning, Daniel has been spiking fevers of 38.5C, and given his temp on a good day usually hovers around a hypothermic 34C*, that's waaay too high. The worrying thing has been that, apart from the fevers, Daniel has had no outward signs of what might be causing them. No cough, no gluggy eyes, no blocked nose, nothing, and our first trip to yet another doctor on Sunday morning, revealed no ear infections either. That doctor wanted to test him for a UTI then see him again in three days for the results. I figured fuck that noise, and took Daniel's floppy little self along to the emergency ward, where they found....nothing. 'It's probably viral, go home', so we did.

Tuesday though, he was worse so we went back, and after blood tests and more urine samples, we're still in the dark. Any infection has been ruled out, which given the dude's immunisation history *ahem*, was what I was worried about so, phew, and it's probably viral, which means we can't do anythng about it excpet wait. Oh, and to fuck the doctor (metaphorically) and come back to the ER immediately if he gets any worse.

While he was still a mere facsmile of his ridiculous self yesterday, he hadn't had a fever overnight, so is already much improved. He was a bit subdued but able to play and smile a bit, until he became a total pill and drove me insane with the refusing to sleep in favor of crawling around my feet whimpering to be picked up before going all McWrigglyfuck on me and whimpering to be put down again. Today is a little better as he's actually asleep right now, but he's still high dependancy boy and I'm still going a little cabin crazy.

In other news, I dropped him on his head on Monday. Well, not actually dropped him, but close enough - and just so we're clear, not because of his pill like state.

I've taken pride in being one of only a handfull of mothers who haven't let their kids fall off the bed, and because Daniel is at a stage where he can safely crawl off the (low) bed, I thought we were home and hosed. However, in a moment of duh, I sat Daniel on the bed and turned my back to do something forgettable. As he usually does when placed so, he leaned forward to go the crawl, except I'd put him too close to the edge of the bed so that when he leaned forward, he leaned right off the bed. I was a millisecond too late and as I reached to stop his fall, Dude somersaulted off the bed and with a resounding 'thuck', introduced the back of his head to the linoleum-on-a-cement-slab floor. Ouch. He was either remarkably calm or almost knocked unconscious though, and barely made a peep so life went on, tra la.

*fear not, gentle readers, my boy is not an amphibian. I just can't use those digital thermometers for shit.

2005-2007© aibee