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August 1, 2001
There’s nothing worse than a sick kiddo. Before I had my boys I didn’t understand why parents would want to change places with a sick or dying child. Now I know exactly how they feel. It’s torture watching your kid suffer. Yep, I’d rather it be me. Here’s how I found that out:
Max woke up last Tuesday with an asthma attack at 2:30 am. I got that under control and was just dozing off, when Jake started shrieking. Alarmed, I ran for his room. Jake was wheezing and mad as a hornet about it.
Oh, no! I thought, not this again. Max had been diagnosed with asthma when he was 1 but so far my 18-month-old twins hadn’t had breathing problems. I had my fingers crossed for them but that obviously hadn’t worked.
Oh no, not the hospital!
I rushed wheezing Jake to a nearby instacare and as we drove he kept getting worse. He was screaming with gusto (in between wheezes) when I hit the instacare door. Needless to say, they got him back to a room immediately. He was started on breathing treatments, but I wasn’t that worried. We had been through this countless times with Max but he was always fine after two treatments.
Jake hated the nebulizer (breathing machine). Each treatment lasted 15 minutes and he shrieked through them. I was trying (not always successfully) not to cry. He was so upset and struggling so much. And he was covering the doc, himself and me with gucky mucus spit-up. I had clocked about 2 ½ hours of sleep and all of this was, well, awful! And it was about to get worse.
Jake wasn’t improving after three breathing treatments. So scary. The doctor ran out of ideas and sent us to the children’s hospital (a half-hour away) and told me to drive carefully but not waste any time getting there.
Lars had a meeting with an exec that has flown in from Norway specifically for the meeting so he had to go to work. What was I going to do with Max and Tommy? They obviously couldn’t come with Jake and I to the hospital or with Lars to work, and my mom and sister were out of town. Thank God for my friend Shawn! She left her house immediately when I called her, and she met Lars so that she could take Max and Tommy while I rushed to the hospital with Jake.
In the hospital Jake threw up the steroid medicine they gave him. The doctor gave him the medicine in a shot (no, we were not murdering him even though people probably wondered) and a breathing treatment (yep, he still hated that machine and let everyone in a ten mile radius know it). That child is usually pretty mellow unless he’s really perturbed and then…stand back!
Anyway, we were not having fun. Lars managed to sneak away from work for about a half hour but then he had to go back.
Luckily, a few hours later Jake started improving. Originally, the doc had told us Jake would definitely have to spend the night in the hospital but by seven that evening he had improved enough for discharge. Trying not to wince at the kids we passed in the hospital hallway (on oxygen and with numerous machines attached) I thanked my lucky stars as I carried my much-improved toddler out of the hospital around 8.
I headed for Shawn’s house to pick up Tommy and Max. Have I told you what a great friend she is? Shawn took my kids without question and was willing to keep them (even overnight) until Jake got better. I am so lucky to have a friend like her.
Jake Appoints Himself Household Ruler
Of course, I felt sorry for Jake and babied him at home. I accidentally turned him into Jake the Terrible Tantrum Thrower. Any tiny thing that doesn’t go his way leads to melt down. So…last night I eyed him and said, “Okay, here’s the thing--you are not the boss around here!” He gave me a crusty look and let out a shriek when I gave him water instead of juice (my doc recommended we cut down to only 4-6 ounces of juice per day). He is not pleased at my attempts to dethrone him. But I shall resume control of my kingdom. I hope. ;)
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