Good Old ER

Oh, ER, the hours we have spent within your walls. Especially after Theo's recent respiratory episode, where we hit a record time of 1.5 days and most of two nights. Ugh.

That is the furthest I'll take my complaints though. There are many children, including two within our own circle of friends and family, who have spent horrible amounts of time in hospitals, and a chunk of time here and there that we have spent in this sterile, worrisome location is ridiculously small by comparison.

When we do go there it's because of our boys' "reactive airways", which translates into intense wheezing and breathing difficulties after colds, exercise, etc. Jude was in the ER three times one year for it, and Theo was inducted for the first time last week. Jude continues to be on a daily medication for his asthma that we now use only seasonally, as well as an inhaler when his wheezing and coughing spike. Chances are Theo will be on the same thing(s) within a year or so, considering the symptoms we've seen in him this past month.

Sleeping on my chest, finally, after a breathing treatment

Being one of those types who prefers natural remedies, especially with my children, this bothers me sometimes. We tried other things before putting Jude on a daily med. But the importance of my boys' ability to get oxygen into their lungs trumps all that. We still use natural remedies for congestion (an olive oil and eucalyptus rub and humidifiers), but when they start to have any serious trouble breathing, out come the big guns. When you're at a turning point, eucalyptus oil is for kids whose colds don't land them in the hospital.

Okay then, moving on...

A few great things came out of last week's experience. First, we all got to see Theo in a tiger hospital gown. Ack! Amazing.

Exhibit A

Exhibit B (hair shot)

Exhibit C ("Nurse?")

Second, unless he was getting "booger-be-gone" or albuterol breathing treatments, he remained his happy self, blabbering endlessly, playing in his hospital crib, flirting intensely with the nurses (see video).

Speaking of flirting, the third great thing was that the ER had a little red welcome wagon in which Theo and I wore a path around the hospital. In our boredom, it was one of the only ways we could escape our tiny room.

I can barely describe how he looked perched in this wagon, in his hospital gown with his fuzzy hair standing on end, without becoming breathless and flushed. I'm fanning myself right now.

Whenever we rolled past a nursing station there was mass swooning and cooing from the lady-folk, mildly bored on their night-time shifts. Theo LOVED that, of course, and amped it up a bit by head-banging and yelling at them with a crazed, elated look on his face. 

I guess the last good thing that came of this little episode is that we were given an excuse to purchase a Nose Frida, the Snotsucker. Using it involves the parent placing a clear nozzle into the baby's nostril and actually sucking from the tube attached. The boogers flow freely (and visibly) into the clear nozzle from the power of your own breath. Mind-blowing. (Note that boogers do not go into the parent's mouth. There's a filter!)

Nose Frida has actually become a verb in our house, and though Theo hates it, the rest of us kind of look forward to it, to be honest.

"So Theo, did you just get Nose-Frida-ed?"

"Did you Nose-Frida him yet today?"

So, we're home now, he's still a bit wheezy, and we're praying we don't have to go back this week. Somehow I would find that embarrassing, though I'm not sure why.