On the mend

Half a dozen blood tests, one catheter, three chest X-rays, one stomach X-ray, one ultrasound, one throat culture, three IVs, countless nebulizer treatments, six prescriptions, two trips to the ER, seven nights in the hospital...and that's just what I can remember off the top of my head. It has easily been the worst week of Anthony's young life.

(Incidentally, also the worst week of our not-so-young lives.)

Fortunately, things are looking up. Anthony has been home since Tuesday and is eating well, playing enthusiastically and sleeping poorly. In other words -- normal. There's the little guy up above -- as happy as ever, if a bit thinner.

We don't have a diagnosis save for a bad ear infection toward the end of the ordeal; it looks like it was just a stubborn virus that had to run its course.

For anyone who's interested, here's our tale of woe in a nutshell: Anthony goes to the ER two weeks ago tomorrow with high fever and labored breathing. Is sent home. Things get worse Sunday. Visit pediatrician Monday. Admitted to Joe DiMaggio's Children's Hospital. Fever abates, breathing improves, Anthony won't eat or drink, still needs IV. Anthonyeats and drinks a little. Head home Friday with four drugs and a nebulizer. Anthony continues hunger strike (suspect he was protesting "arbitrary and capricious" one-toy rule in aftermath of Christmas, but not sure). Back to ER Saturday, new IV, readmitted to hospital. Hunger strike continues. No cause found (grandparents have arrived with multiple toys, doctors have run multiple tests). Anthony taken off original drugs and nebulizer (anyone need a six-month supply of Abuterol??), put on Zantac and Maalox. Doctors continue to espouse "it'll get better soon" theory. Mom is sick of hearing this. Even sicker of sleeping on hospital chair. "Soon" finally arrives Sunday as little mouth opens eagerly for bananas. Never liked bananas before illness. Good sign, but still refuses bottle. Monday, starts taking bottle. Eating habits normalize. Back home Tuesday.

We're still here, so I'm thinking that's a good sign.

So too is the fact that it isn't even noon yet, and Anthony has already gulped down 14 ounces of milk and some apples. I know this because I'm tracking his eating as closely as I tracked it when he was a newborn and I was convinced his frequent crying was because he was starving even though I was feeding him every 90 minutes. I hope I won't feel the need to do this forever, as that would make holding down a job really tricky.

Anyway, I am now confident enough to say I think Anthony's getting better without feeling like I'm jinxing the situation.

To me, this experience was terrifying -- no other word for it. Except maybe heartbreaking. Try watching your pale, weak, gaunt kid scream in terror as someone sticks him with an IV or needle or forces a drug down his throat. Then try doing it half a dozen times a day for two weeks.

Actually, don't try it, please.

But we're so lucky in so many ways: Our kid had something he has recovered from... we saw a lot of kids these past couple weeks who aren't so fortunate. We had the best, kindest care at Joe DiMaggio's (When we went to the ER there, we were seeing a doctor within five minutes). My parents dropped everything to drive down from Illinois to help us, and Grandma Char did the same to fly down and begin her shift this weekend (thank you, thank you, thank you). My boss was beyond understanding, and Brandon had sick leave at his disposal.

So, I guess we'll look at this as a learning experience, and to brace ourselves for the future.

Because as I sat in that hospital room with Anthony, watching the parade of sick kids coming in and out of the bed next door -- a toddler with a stomach virus, a 6-year-old who'd had his tonsils out, a teen with a twisted testicle (OUCH!) -- I realized with perfect clarity that the worries and crises and other little nightmares will never end. I don't know if I'm ready for that!

Should have thought of that 16 and a half months ago, huh?

But, ready or not, the only thing easy about this whole ordeal was the decision to drop everything and be there with our baby. We're lucky we have the means to do so, but hope this is an experience we never, ever have to repeat -- mostly for Anthony's sake, but also for ours.