If you are not a Facebook/Twitter friend, last Tuesday’s post may have lead you to believe that Knox was better. Although I am sure that you may have gathered by my unusual radio silence, that this was not the case. The real story is that when I wrote the one about him being sick, I actually had a chance to squeeze in another post which never happens. So I scheduled it for the following day. If you are a Facebook/Twitter friend you will know that Knox was admitted into hospital on Monday morning following a very brief visit to our GP who said “go now to the Paed and get him checked in” – which totally didn’t freak me out or anything.
He was admitted with RSV, which I think stands for Really Sucky Virus. Or Rather Stupid Virus. But actually stands for Respiratory Syncytial Virus which is apparently rather contagious.
After waiting 40 minutes for the Doctor to come to our appointment, having to repeat the ages of my children 3 different times and feeling like he was only listening to half of the information that I was giving him, we finally made it down for Knox to be admitted. As soon as we got in, he got his first nebuliser. Which if you don’t know what that is, could roughly be translated to the scariest facemask of death, accompanied with the high pitched growling sound of a dying cat with escaping gasses and smoke blowing into the whole of his tiny face. I probably don’t have to say it, but it was not much fun.
Then, only after I enquired, I found out that they weren’t going to give him a drip. By this point I was a little peeved. OK, more than a little bit. The paed that we had been assigned in place of our regular paed (who just happened to be on holiday) was the one that we were assigned just after Kyla was born. And let’s just say there is a reason that we changed. I went and told the nurses again that he hadn’t eaten anything or kept anything in since Sunday afternoon, and maybe they should look at him too because he was just kind of lying there, not really moving or anything and they said they would let the Doc know. A couple of hours later they came with meds via his mouth to give him and still no drip. By this point you could say that I was pretty upset that they were not giving my baby a drip so, as they started putting the meds in his mouth I secretly prayed that he would vomit. Just to prove my point that I was desperately trying to make them see. Which he did. All over their bed. It was beautiful.
Now that they were satisfactorily convinced, they got the Doc down, who agreed that he did need a drip and that he would do it later when he came around to the wards (like 7). I said no, I think it’s better if you put it in now. And he was all like, “then my patients upstairs must wait”, and I was all like, “yes they must”. (Because, had he been on time, he wouldn’t have such a backlog). Anyway, we got the drip in after trying two different veins on one hand and then finally getting it right on the other hand. Again it’s not the best experience he’s ever had. The whole time he was staring up at me wondering why I was letting this happen to him.
But finally my little guy had his drip and I could rest easier now, knowing that he was getting in some much needed fluid. And just when I was starting to relax and ease into our new space for the night we had a visit from a physio. She did some knocking on his back to loosen the phlegm and then informed me that she had to test the phlegm for RSV. I agreed, but then she pulled out this long tube that had to go down through his nose, all the way into his LUNGS! Not once (because the first time didn’t give enough phlegm) but TWICE!!! At the end of it all he vomited up blood. Which is apparently quite normal…
At this point He had been much more like himself, but despite all the pooping they gave him something for nausea so he managed to drink his first bottle in a while on Tuesday morning. Just after that Seth decided that we are more important than work and he left to come and spend the rest of the day with us and also popping in to see the girls. Soon after he arrived the Doc let us know that not only does he have RSV but he also has another gastro virus that I struggle to remember the name of. Which explains why he was so crampy, sick and pooping all the time.
By this point emotions were all kind of destroyed, but I got a chance to quickly go through to the Alfinos to visit the girls and have a shower. I almost felt like a new person. It’s amazing how a shower can just make you feel that little bit better about life.
The rest of the afternoon involved more physio, more nebulisers and lots of washing of hands. By this point anyone entering our room would put on gloves and a plastic apron. We were that contagious!! Which totally sucks. Because by Wednesday morning I was starting to feel all crampy and weird which really just sucks. It’s hard to properly care for your ailing bubs when you’re struggling to hold in vomit. And we all know (but probably wish you didn’t) how easily I get tummy bugs. This is our spot in the Isolation room.
Tuesday night was not much better than Monday. Another screaming match to put him to sleep, only for him to wake up at 2am covered in poo. Another mission to put him back to sleep and then he was awake again at 6. Thankfully he got in another good sleep in the morning, even sleeping through a nebuliser.
The Wednesday morning Doctor’s visit involved being told that we are staying another night, upping some tummy binding meds and lowering the pain/fever meds because that’s at least one thing that we’ve managed to get under control.
We finally got to leave on Thursday morning after he managed to control his bowel movements a bit more and stopped vomiting. Definitely laughing and smiling loads more than he has done in a week and so I am finally getting my baby back. It’s so scary when they just lie there, totally emotionless. Especially my little boy who has this grin for me no matter what his mood is.
And because everyone keeps asking me how I am/was doing, I’ll tell you. It was a bit hectic. I couldn’t leave him for a second. Even going to the toilet meant that I had to get a nurse to come and watch him. There was lots of crying, screaming and just plain uncomfortableness in us not being in our own space. But I didn’t cry for any of the procedures that he had to go through, I even helped hold him down. Is that weird? Like, I know it totally sucks for him, but at the same time I know it will make him feel better, so I just do it. What do you do in those kind of situations?
Anyway, we are back home now and have been for a while and he is 100% better, give or take the odd cough. The girls are even better too. And for once in our house in the past 2 months no one is sick. I almost don’t want to write it in case it all changes, but there you have it. The house is full of their laughing, fighting, screaming goodness and I wouldn’t have it any other way!