RSV- Sike!

Tell me if you've heard this one before:

A toddler walks in to an emergency room, struggling to breathe.

Oh wait, not a joke. This was my Thursday. Except this particular toddler didn't walk in.

Mason had a runny nose all week last week. I chalked it up to allergies, mainly because Mother Nature is having a PMS fit of rage. So by dinner time he was sounding kind of congested. Like the good mommy I try to be, I gave him a bath, rubbed him down with Vick's (even on his feet, which I heard moons ago. Not sure if it works, but its worth a try). I put him to bed, hoping he'd feel better in the morning.

Two hours later, he was gasping and screaming. I took him into the bathroom to see if some steam room therapy would help. It didn't. That's when Scott and I decided he needed to go to the ER. He had a doctors appointment made already for the next day for his 15 month check up, but we just weren't comfortable waiting. And when Scott says its time to go, you know its serious. I got Mason bundled up and ready to go, while Scott stayed home with the girls (who were obviously already in bed).

The emergency room is all of 5 minutes from my house, when going the speed limit. Panicked mom + Wheezy 15 month old does NOT = speed limit.

I walked in, and immediately the receptionist said "is he having problems breathing?". Before I say yes, there she's yelling through a window, a nurse is ushering us inside, and I'm whipping clothes off of him. Insane. By the time I can look up, I've got 3 nurses, a CNA, and a doctor standing around us. Clearly, the best way to get in to an emergency room is with a sick toddler. Not that I recommend carrying them around in your pocket or anything.



Mason with the stuffed animal the hospital gave him, and his IV :(



They took his temp (up the exit only, poor kid), checked his respiration rate, and evaluated his ears, throat, and lungs. The doctor took one look at his poor tummy sinking in as he was breathing, and immediately ordered a breathing treatment. His respiration rate was in the 90s, and it is supposed to be below 50. The doctor ordered an IV, and said that unless this breathing treatment performs a miracle, we're getting admitted. He wasn't for sure if they were going to admit him into our hometown hospital, or send him via ambulance to the children's hospital 20 minutes away. Naturally, I was scared. I expected them to tell me I was overreacting, not that something was actually wrong.

He did not care for the breathing treatment. Or the random people touching him. Or the thermometer being stuck inside his butt. He especially did not care for the nurse who gave him the IV (I, however, loved her- she got his teeny tiny vein on the first poke. I would've kissed her, but that isn't my style). Equally so, he did not care for the 2 RSV tests they ran on him (by shoving a q-tip wire thingy up his nose). Poor kid had it going in all orifices.

The breathing treatments somewhat helped, but not enough. His respiration's were in the upper 80s, low 90s, so he was still getting admitted. After speaking with a few doctors, they determined that he could stay in our hospital (yay!). This was at 2am. We got there at midnight. Nearly 3 hours and 2 additional breathing treatments later, we were being moved to Mason's room. We got there, did a round of oral steroids and another breathing treatment, then did some paperwork. While I did paperwork, they hooked Mason up with a house arrest bracelet and a GPS monitoring system (I'd like to say I'm joking, but I'm only slightly joking. They put a big black box around his ankle that connected to his foot to track oxygen, then they put a "hugs" system on him so if he got too close to the doors or windows, an alarm would sound.) No one steals my baby.

Sick baby :(

Finally, we were allowed to sleep. They set Mason up a crib, gave me a bed, and left us alone. This was at 5:15am. By this time, Mason was going on 5 hours of sleep in a 24 hour period. I was going on none.

6:45am rolls around. They kept coming in and checking on Mason, so naturally he decided to screw sleep. Lovely. More breathing treatments. A whole lot of nothing. Mason would get really amped up after the steroids, then he'd just kind of crash and watch TV. At 10:00am, I decided it was time to force a nap on him- I was about to pass out from exhaustion. At this point, I had 1 hour of sleep in over 24 hours, and that 1 hour sucked.

To make a long story short, Mason was not thrilled with sleeping. So we didn't. Finally Mason's real doctor came down to see us. He said he wasn't greatly improved, but he was improved enough to let us go home- as long as we did breathing treatments and steroids at home. YAY! While waiting to be discharged, Mason and I passed out on a bed. I remember holding him and saying "shhhhh", but I don't remember anything after that. Fortunately Scott was with us at that time (and had been since he dropped the girls off at school, with the exception of an hour when he had to pick up Madison and take her to get shots- more on that later).

At 3:15pm we were discharged, just in time to get Trinity from school. Scott dropped Mason and I off at home and went to the store, filled Mason's prescriptions, and got dinner. Mason and I passed the eff out, taking a nearly 4 hour nap. Subsequently, we went right back to bed a few hours after that. It was amazing.

The 1 hour nap he took at in the ER.

As of today, Mason is doing much better. Still slightly wheezy, but expected to make a full recovery by the end of the week.

In case you're interested, Scott took Madison to get a set of immunizations while this was taking place. He's never done this before. He will never do it again. Madison was freaked out about getting the shots (rightfully so, Trinity is a spaz when it comes to shots, and acts like they're chopping her arm off when she gets one- so that's all she knows). They did the chicken pox vaccination first, then a Hep B one. The Madison went white in the face. Scott asked her if she was ok. She shook her head, but he knew. Right as he put his hand to her mouth, she threw up. EVERYWHERE. In true Madison projectile form. Scott has an incredibly weak stomach, so major props for him not sympathy puking with her. She got it on her, Scott, and the nurse that gave the shots. Not to mention the room. It was the one time I was glad I was stuck at the other end of the hospital with Mason.