Group hug?

03/23/2010 at 10:23 am | Posted in Bleh | 7 Comments

I’ve done it.

I’ve officially coughed so hard that I’ve blown blood vessels in one of my eyes, which is now a frighteningly delightful shade of red. Perfect for work today! Can’t wait for lunch so I can creep out the cashier at Panera. Where I will vainly attempt to taste my salad. Because, along with this outrageously infuriating Cough, whatever illness I have has shut down my tastebuds.

So, life right now is not so swell. Not even pretty swell. And I feel like whining, so lucky you!

Feel free to stop reading at any time.

I’ve been trying to kick the Cough for about six weeks, but it persists, like an annoying door-to-door salesman who just won’t take no for an answer. I’ve begged the Cough to go away in the middle of the night, but he continues to keep me awake. Also, the Cough actually WOKE UP THE BABY last night. And the dog has decided to sleep downstairs. You can imagine how my ever-so-patient husband now feels about the Cough.

Earplugs. Guest room. Door closed.

I want to kick the Cough in the balls. Hard.

So I went to the doctor yesterday and begged for medicine that actually will work. Now the Cough is having to reckon with the Z-Pack. Day 2, so far, is better than Day 1. Thank the lord.

Because, y’all, I feel nothing like myself. I’m swimming in the thick, familiar haze of sleep-deprivation, with a gnarly thornball wedged in my throat and a Cough that threatens to pull up my internal organs along with gallons of snot.

Thornball?

Okay, now this is getting pitiful.

If you’ve read this far, bless you. I needed to vent, and now I feel better.

Thank you.

:: cough ::

Croup with a side of panic

03/16/2010 at 12:21 pm | Posted in Bleh, Small Fry | 6 Comments
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Just as Small Fry started to feel better this weekend — seriously, she finished a 10-day round of antibiotics on Saturday — croup snuck up out of nowhere and knocked us on our asses last night.

Like last time, it started with a barky cough in her sleep. Then, the high fever and shakes. I had NO IDEA WHAT TO DO. Do I take her to the hospital? Call the pediatrician’s emergency line? Put her in a steamy bathroom to ease the croup or plop her in a cool bath to reduce the fever?

By the time M got home from an evening class, I had been panicking for all of 15 minutes and my head was about to spin off my shoulders, through the roof and up into the sky.

He called the doc, and as he was answering a billion questions (with me shouting in his free ear), Small Fry began to puke. I held her, sobbing, which made her cry more. Not my finest moment. Panic breeds panic, right? So I came to my senses quickly, realizing that the sooner I calmed down, the better chance Small Fry would relax. And she did, resting her head on my vomit-soaked shirt. We peeled off our nasty clothes, redressed and strapped her into the car seat.

The hospital emergency room is not a sexy place. I didn’t see a McDreamy or McSteamy or even a McSort-of-Cute. It was just plain sad. And gray. By the time we got Small Fry into triage, her fever had dropped and she wasn’t stomach sick. She was a champ, letting the nurse poke and prod. She even took her medicine without much of a fight.

After about another hour in the waiting room, with a sleepy baby in my arms, I realized that we needed to go home. She was breathing fine. She was conversational and even talked about going home to play with her toys. I just knew in my gut that we’d been through the worst.

So, M, the calmest person on the planet (thank the lord), got Small Fry discharged and we went home and to bed.

I woke about every 30 minutes afraid she’d stop breathing, but of course, she was fine. At the doctor’s office this morning, her fever was gone but the barky cough persisted. They gave us some steroids to ease the swelling in her airway, and Small Fry picked out a rad car sticker on our way out the door.

The lesson here? Trust your instincts, even if they lead you to the hospital and you end up feeling like a fool. You won’t be sorry. I’m not.

Crap, it’s croup

11/19/2009 at 1:24 pm | Posted in Bleh, Small Fry | 2 Comments
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Last night, after being asleep for a couple of hours, Small Fry started to bark like a seal. It was the weirdest noise I’ve ever heard her make. Until she began sucking for air. That, by far, was the weirdest and scariest sound that’s ever parted her lips. And there have been some scary ones.

I bolted into her room and snatched her out of the crib. She kept wheezing. She wasn’t upset or crying, but she looked confused. Which, of course, freaked me out even more.

Somehow I had the presence of mind to recall the advice of a co-worker: take the child into the bathroom and run the hot water. The steam will help clear her airways. So we sat in our little sauna for about 15 minutes. I’d also heard that a blast of cold air helps. So, I bundled us up and took her outside onto the front porch. She was totally calm by that point.

I wasn’t.

So, we went back upstairs and crawled into bed with M. We don’t co-sleep, except for on the occasional sick night or when we’re traveling, so it always amazes me how much that baby thrashes in her sleep. I had one eye open the whole time, scared shitless that she’d stop breathing.

Small Fry and I eventually ended up back in her room. M inflated the air mattress for me, a task that, in the middle of the night, must have felt like the ultimate IQ test. At about 4 a.m., I made my way back into my bed. She joined us again at around 7.

The wheezing never returned, but man, that seal-bark-cough kept at it all night. When we finally got out of bed, she had a low-grade fever. By the time we got to the doctor’s office two hours later, her fever had risen by a degree. Not high, but enough to keep my adrenaline pumping.

She tested negative for flu (thank God), so the diagnosis was croup. The doctor prescribed a steroid and said things should be much better in two or three days.

Small Fry is napping now, and so far, I don’t hear any strange sounds coming from her room.

Whew.

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