Tuesday morning I got up, happy that the little man had slept through the night after our recent battles with the evil Night Terrors. He was still quiet when I got up, so I made a quick phone call to my dad and mentioned that Avram was sleeping in late. As soon as I hung up the phone I started to worry, so I went in to check on him.
I walked in to find him covered in vomit, staring in to space.
I called 911.
He was responsive, but limp, and at my first-very-panicky-glance it looked like there was blood in his vomit. The firetruck and ambulance came screaming down our street, and before I knew it I was standing in my foyer, still dressed in pjs, crying, handing my baby over to three giant firemen.
I must have looked like a real nut job.
The paramedics checked out his throw-up and took Avram's vitals, meanwhile telling me to put some real clothes on and pack a diaper bag. They decided that his vitals were stable, the dark junk in his vomit was not blood, and that he was responsive, and told me that they would let J & I take him to the emergency room on our own if we wanted. J came home from work and we rushed him in to the children's hospital.
We spent the next nine hours in a closet-sized room in the ER while they took just about every possible fluid from Avram's poor body: blood, urine, snot, spinal fluid. After a CT scan and series of x-rays the neurosurgeon came in to tell us that Ave's shunt was fine, which was my biggest concern. Vomiting, fever, and irritability can be signs that his shunt is either malfunctioning or infected; which, if that was the case, he would have been rushed in to surgery. So, knowing that his shunt was ok made us feel a lot better.
He wasn't keeping anything down: milk, pedialyte...nothing. His fever stayed at 102 for most of the morning, and nothing would console him. He cried all day, refusing to sleep.
At 7:30pm the hospital admitted us and took us upstairs to our room. Avram took a bottle, promptly brought it back to the surface, and then drifted off to sleep.
J went back home for the night, since the hospital only allows one parent to sleep over. With the buddy sleeping soundly, I tried to settle in for the night. Unfortunately, I apparently do not weigh enough to keep the fold-out chairs in the bed position: each time I stretched out & snoozed off, the bed would snap back into chair form, like that old Donald Duck cartoon.
So far the doctors think he just has a bad virus: a really swollen throat, ear infection, that sort of thing. They have him on fluids, an antibiotic, and some Tylenol for his throat. Poor guy still can't bear to eat or drink anything. Thankfully, he's sleeping now.
I love Children's Memorial. I honestly do. The doctors are patient, always answer our questions thoroughly, and never make us feel like we're just another item on their to-do list. The nurses are helpful, kind, and check on us frequently. My only frustration has been Avram's discomfort. Since 2pm yesterday he has either been sleeping or crying: much more the latter than the former. He is inconsolable.
I have had a hard time being patient with the doctors when their only answer is to run more tests, to keep an eye on him. I want him to stop crying. I don't want him to be in pain. Give him something so he's not in pain, doc! Do whatever you have to do to find out what's wrong, but let him get some rest already.
I am trying to be patient. I am trying to be Avram's best advocate while letting the doctors do their jobs. I am trying to remember that God is a builder and not a magician.
I want them to fix the symptoms, they want to find the source.
I want a temporary fix, but they want a permanent solution.
So we wait.
He is sleeping now, so we are sitting. Sitting, watching, waiting.