Pneumonia Hijinks, Part Deux



For the first part, please see here.

So we get in to our room. Immediately, I'm bombarded with questions: "What is Mason's date of birth? How much does he weigh? What's your name?" Blah. Blah. Blah. Evidently, since Mason's doctor was in the exam room when he decided to admit Mason, his information was taking a while to come over. So I gave them the run down- Mason is 17 months, weighs 25lbs, has had 2 nebs, an antibiotic shot and a steroid shot, has an O2 level of 87%, has had normal diapers (both wet and bm), and has a mild temperature, but nothing that needs treated. They were impressed that I knew anything (at that point, I wasn't sure whether to be proud of myself, or offended that they were surprised I wasn't dumb...I chose proud).

They hooked him up to his O2 meter to check it again, called in a respiratory therapist for yet another neb, and had 3 different people listen to his chest. At this point, Mason was D-O-N-E. He did not like these strange women, nor did he like people touching him. Plus, he was still slightly traumatized from our first nurse.

About half an hour later, Mason's orders came in. They wanted him on constant oxygen until his O2 levels were at/or above 92%. Have you ever tried to keep oxygen on a 17 month old? Not. Fun. It took 2 nurses, a mom, and 2 circles that looked like band aids in order to get him hooked up. Don't underestimate the power of those two circles- they had some insane strength behind them. I'm fairly certain if an atomic bomb were to drop, cockroaches and those band aids would be the only things to survive.

Once we were all hooked up, there wasn't much more to do except monitor him. At this point, he was still feeling crappy, and getting tired, so he was easy to control. The nurse came in and said that they would do a steroid mashed up in some applesauce at 4pm, then another at midnight, then another antibiotic shot at 10 the next morning. Our doctor anticipated us to be released Sunday (!!!!), and until then we would just be aggressive with the nebs and oxygen.

Joy.




Mason during his first nap- and the awesome blanket the hospital gave him to keep!



So, that's what we did. Mason ate, napped, and had a neb. Rinse and repeat. Finally, at one point he was starting to feel, and look, better. They decided to take him off his oxygen and let him go for a walk. After 10 minutes, he was back to breathing hard, and was flat out exhausted. We checked his oxygen levels, and they were sitting at 90%. Back on the oxygen. I convinced them to hook up an extension on his oxygen, so that he could at least walk around his room. That made helped, a little. The better he started to feel, the more he wanted to run and play. He didn't understand why he couldn't. We went on a second walk, during which he ran towards the doors, set the kidnapping alarms off (because anyone under the age of 8 has to wear the hugs tag that they put on newborns), and was promptly hauled back in to his room by me. Then, he ran out again and took it upon himself to be the hospital welcome committee, running into other patients rooms and saying "hiya". ::sigh:: The nurses thought he was A-DOR-ABLE. I, however, was extremely embarrassed- but happy he was feeling better. Then, oxygen levels started dropping, again, which forced him back on oxygen.



Hospitals suck.


Finally, it was bed time. Of course, after all the steroids they were pumping in him, he was all sorts of hyper. At 11, he finally passed out. At midnight, they came in with his steroid and applesauce. Fortunately, he went straight back to sleep after that debacle.

At 4 am, after an insanely uncomfortable night of Mason and I sharing the hospital bed, he decided he was calling the shots. He ripped out his oxygen, rolled over, and went to sleep in a comfortable way. I called the nurse, expecting her to come back in and shatter his dreams of sleep. She decided that since his oxygen levels were at 96%, he could stay off of it for awhile, with some monitoring, of course. I took advantage of this opportunity, and moved him to the cage crib they had put in the room for him. Finally, we both got decent sleep.



Mason in the cage crib.



Off oxygen, for the moment!



Slowly getting back to his ornery self



The next morning, the ped doctor did her rounds. She determined that since Mason had been off oxygen for awhile (4 hours, at that point), he could go home- provided we stayed on top of nebs, gave him an antibiotic, and brought him in to see his doctor on Monday. YAY! Oh, and Mason had to have another shot of antibiotics before we went. Crap.

The nurse came in, and instead of doing one crazy, insane, huge effin' needle, he broke it up in to two slightly less insane needles. So I held Mason's hands, assuming the nurse was holding his legs.

He wasn't.

Mason barrel rolled, broke the needle part off of the syringe, and screamed bloody murder. The nurse regained control of the needle hanging out of my kid's thigh, administered the other shot quickly, and helped clean the blood off of Mason's leg.

At last, it was time to go home. Mason got home, and within 5 minutes was curled up on me, passed out. He slept for 3 hours, then went back to sleep at 6:45 that night- and slept until 8 that next morning. The boy was exhausted.

Of course, he still wasn't out of the woods. We still had our follow up appointment with his doctor on Monday. Due to some snow (4 inches) and some Arctic cold weather, Mason was wheezing again. It was entirely possible that he could end up in the hospital, yet again.

Part III