Day 301:
Today was an all around drag, Conor. As I'd mentioned in the last several posts you've been fighting some kind of bug and Mommy and I have been standing with you in doing anything we can to help. The various effects of this "bug" have seen you vomit entire meals 6 times in the last 5 days, a fever of 102 albeit inconsistent, a nasty cough, tons of wheezing, and difficulty breathing. Your Mom and I were sure we were getting ahead of it having you at the pediatrician twice this week already. And this morning you seemed to be responding so the decision was made to get you out to daycare and let Mommy get to work, while I worked from home because, as I said last night, it seems I'm under siege by a bug of my own.
Everything seemed well and good though I decided to call Ms. Zeny anyway just to check on you. She'd mentioned that you'd thrown up your lunch but that your spirits were good and you'd taken a bottle since with no incident. I had my concerns and took the information under advisement, but I asked Ms. Zeny to give me a call all the same should it happen again. And around 3:30pm, I got the call.
Deciding not to wait any longer, and despite being a bit under the weather myself, I decided to not worry your Mom to leave Bethesda and grab you and started heading to you as quickly as I could. On the way I called your pediatrician, today that was Dr. Howell, and she advised me to have a look at you first and then make the decision - do we head home for the night and manage you through the morning? Or is it so bad that we not wait and head straight to the ER? Well, by the time I'd gotten to you, despite your usual bright and happy smile, I could see right away what was in store. Emergency Room...
When I put you in the car all I could hear was your tiny lungs fighting for each and every breath. The gurgle and wheeze coming from your little car seat was enough on it's own, but you were piqued and just not yourself, and so I made the call to your Mom and we made our way to the hospital... Turns out it was the right call...
Shortly there after Mommy showed up and just in time... I'd managed to get you through all the checking in, story telling of the week and why we were there, and the various things Dr Smith, or "Doug" as he introduced himself, would do to take action; beginning with a chest x-ray. You did great in the x-ray booth, Conor! And they got great pictures of those strong but tiny lungs! But the bad news came just after in that Dr. Smith informed us that you had pneumonia... The litany of things that would happen after that was where the night became unbearable for you...
First and foremost they would take blood. Or at least try... In order to do this the nurses would need to insert an IV which, by itself is a drag. But missing and missing and missing again on a little guy was unbearable... In your almost 10 months, Conor, you've almost never cried. And when you have it's been for mere moments. After this poor nurse who, with 20 years of experience in the ER carries plenty of knowhow, tried for almost 5 minutes in 2 tries to get that IV set, your screaming and pain was unrelenting. Instinctively it was everything I could do to not throw her through the wall, Son. I've never been in a position where I had to watch somebody I love so much take so much pain, and I struggled mightily to control my urge to protect you and tell her to back off... And by no fault of her own she just couldn't get it done. I believe this because she was working with another nurse and the Doctor and nobody could find a vein in your chubby little arms. I finally understand what people mean when they say, "it was as painful for me as it was for you." It truly was, Conor. And I'm sorry you had to go through it, Boy'O.
Unsuccessful, exhausted, and feeling yucky, you were done in, Conor. Your poor little body fell limp as you struggled to breathe through all the fluid in your lungs, and so you finally just passed out. Needless to say your Mom and I were emotional and desperate to get you healthy. In order to draw blood for testing the Doctor ordered a heel stick and so, while in a deep and exhausted slumber, they performed the maneuver to predictable results. Out of a dead sleep you awoke to the sharp pain of a quick knife digging into your heel, and all I could do was hold you and tell you it was going to be okay. For 10 minutes more the nurses did all they could to get the required blood and again, to no avail... It seemed like endless torture considering the failed results.
The Doctor, who again I believe was very very good, finally decided to simply provide you with a couple of injections in order to get the medicine into your body through the muscles in your legs and so, yet another stick. This time in both legs at the same time and again, from a dead sleep. Fortunately you were so tired that you merely cried for a moment before finally just giving in to the pain and falling asleep in my arms while your mother paced the room beside herself.
Being a parent is the greatest honor and privilege in the World, Conor. Without a doubt. And we've all come through some pretty significant events in the last year given your journey to now, and so one might think this kind of event wouldn't be so bad. But honestly Boy'O, listening to you cry in pain at the hands of another, no matter how sincere and professional the effort, was as difficult as anything I've ever endured. And I know I speak for your Mom when I say she feels the same...
We're home now and you're sound asleep. A consolation in all this is that you won't remember any of this as you grow and grow. But the fact remains, you're still sick, Son. And so tomorrow morning it's back to the doctor, specifically your pediatrician, to continue to combat this blasted thing. And no matter what, Boy'O, I'll be right there with you. Mommy too. We've got you, Son. And we know you'll be just fine with a little love and support and all the right moves.
Even the Lion Heart can hurt, Son. There's no shame in it. Just get better, okay?
I love you, Conor.
-Dad
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