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Wednesday, September 29, 2010

Into Hell...the First Weekend

Here we are, nearly two months after LittleDude got sick, and I've finally managed to type up the post I've been promising.  It's taken forever, but I present to you the story of LittleDude's hospital adventure.  It's such a long story, I'll be breaking it into a number of separate, smaller, more manageable posts.  Easier to read.  Today I'll recount the beginning of LittleDude's illness, before we understood just how sick my young man really was.

It started on Friday.  The last Friday in July to be specific.  It was already an unusual day for us:  SoundGuy was heading out of town overnight for a sound gig, and my mother, who had been visiting a few weeks, was flying home.  I was up early, extremely early for me.  After taking SoundGuy to the airport, I returned home just after 6am to find my mother and LittleDude up.  LittleDude was quite proud of himself -- school was starting on Monday, and he was practicing.  That meant he was up and had already eaten.  That he would be dressed was too much to hope for, but I praised him anyway.

Until time to take my mother to the airport, the day proceeded as usual.  Even the trip to the airport was pretty normal:  LittleDude fell asleep during the 45+/- minute ride.  The unusual part didn't start until the ride home.

About halfway home, he started complaining of feeling sick.  MiniMe and I gave him a bag he could use for vomiting, if necessary.  He took advantage.  Now, my family has done quite a bit of traveling by car, and although LittleDude has been carsick in the past, it's been years.  Carsickness didn't even enter my mind.  What did enter my mind was Crap.  School starts Monday.

When we got home, I told LittleDude to head on up to his room and get some rest.  Not only did he go straight up without complaint, he actually went to sleep.  And he slept through the night.  Yes, I was worried.  I would be keeping a very close eye on him over the weekend.

The next day, the vomiting stopped, but it apparently did so to make room for the diarrhea.  And fever.  At one point, his temperature climbed to nearly 104°, but we easily controlled it with Tylenol, so I opted not to contact the doctor.  Yet.  The close eye continued.

Sunday came, and with it came the pain.  LittleDude, still running fevers albeit much lower, rolled around on his bed complaining his belly hurt.  "It feels like somebody's reaching in and pulling my guts out," he said.  That was it; I put in a call to the on call doctor, who determined it was cramping.  "Imodium and fluids," he said. 

The pain did eventually stop, although the diarrhea and fever continued.  We'd keep an eye on him Sunday night, then decide what to do on Monday morning.  Either way, he wouldn't be starting school with the rest of the kids.  I e-mailed his teacher, crawled into bed, and fell into a troubled, uncomfortable slumber.


The story continues:  The First ER Trip


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