not a very nice day
I've just come home for a shower, and will be returning soon with a Thomas DVD, some crayons and books, and Thomas and Percy, and a change of clothes and I don't know what else but I'm sure I'll forget something vital.
We've been at the hospital since at around 4am this morning, and Daniel's still there now, with Scruffy V.7 for company. He had an acute asthma attack last night, and at triage his O2 sats were 91, then they dropped to 85, and even after being nebulised(?) three times, he needed oxygen because his oxygen and god oh god oh god, etc. The etc being chest x-rays and admission to the paeds ward.
When I left, he was fine, having had three more sessions with what I thought had to have been a party drug, but what in fact was, albuterol, and he cheerily waved me away, all "BYE MUMMY!!" because he found cars and friends in the ward playroom, and was, you know, HIGH.
But still.
He'd already been to the doctor yesterday because he had a sore throat and I wanted to get right on top of it if it was tonsillitis. The doctor thought it was just a cold, so then I thought the night air was making his more chesty. I checked the internet when I should have called the hospital, and I second guessed myself when I told myself not to panic - not that I should have panicked, but I should have done something more than watch him and tell myself that labored breathing wasn't THAT labored. I thought he'd be better off at home than in an ER on a Saturday night, which he would have been, had it been just a cold and had he not been fighting for every breath.
People die of asthma, and (and you all know I'm not a drama queen, right?) last night, my son could have been one of them.
We've been at the hospital since at around 4am this morning, and Daniel's still there now, with Scruffy V.7 for company. He had an acute asthma attack last night, and at triage his O2 sats were 91, then they dropped to 85, and even after being nebulised(?) three times, he needed oxygen because his oxygen and god oh god oh god, etc. The etc being chest x-rays and admission to the paeds ward.
When I left, he was fine, having had three more sessions with what I thought had to have been a party drug, but what in fact was, albuterol, and he cheerily waved me away, all "BYE MUMMY!!" because he found cars and friends in the ward playroom, and was, you know, HIGH.
But still.
He'd already been to the doctor yesterday because he had a sore throat and I wanted to get right on top of it if it was tonsillitis. The doctor thought it was just a cold, so then I thought the night air was making his more chesty. I checked the internet when I should have called the hospital, and I second guessed myself when I told myself not to panic - not that I should have panicked, but I should have done something more than watch him and tell myself that labored breathing wasn't THAT labored. I thought he'd be better off at home than in an ER on a Saturday night, which he would have been, had it been just a cold and had he not been fighting for every breath.
People die of asthma, and (and you all know I'm not a drama queen, right?) last night, my son could have been one of them.
posted by aibee at 09:36
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