***Warning: This post contains content of a graphic and questionable nature. Viewer Discretion is Advised****
He He – I’ve always wanted to write that line. Seriously though, if you have a weak stomach when it comes to topics of the stomach virus genre its best to click away now my friends. Come back tomorrow and we will talk about something fun…like decorating
One of the things about parenting that provides me with never-ending shock value (although I’m not sure why because when you think about it…duh) is just how much we have to actually teach our child. How to share, how to eat with utensils, how not to swallow magnets…or coins…or hair ties…or batteries. In the wee hours of Sunday morning I taught JB how to puke in a toilet rather than in his bed or on Mama. ….Seriously….we have to be taught that?
What proceeded to happen every 30 minutes over the next 5 hours is the stuff that I’m told horror movies are made of (I’m told this because I don’t watch horror movies because I am already scared of the dark without them thank you very much). Then there was blood. Then we went to the ER. Then this happened….Poor thing when he got stuck he just said “Owwwwiiiieeee” really loud and then looked at his dad and said “Daddy wet’s go home”. Of the 5 people in the room at this point let me just say 3 were crying….I’ll let you guess which 3.
One IV, one set of labs, one abdominal X-Ray, 268 ML of fluid, and a dose of Zofran later Pookie was feeling A LOT better. So much so that he was watching Mickey Mouse Clubhouse and
yelling singing the theme from Veggie Tales “If you wike to talk to toma-toes” all while asking Mama to hand him the in room hospital phone so that he could call Grandaddy.
I am so very thankful to report that it was nothing worse than a stomach virus coupled with a busted blood vessel (poor baby)….but you can imagine where my RN mind had gone during the magical journey that seemed like the LONGEST RIDE TO THE HOSPITAL EVER. In reality it took us 35 minutes to get to the hospital which if you know the distance you know means we basically beat airplanes there. At one point I remember telling Ben that if a cop dared to stop us right now he would regret it….my baby was hurting I was a MONSTER.
He is still mostly living off of Gatorade at this point but it’s a big improvement over Sunday and his little energy ball self is recovering nicely. I am very grateful to the super nice and professional nurses/MDs at the Pediatric ER we visited. They made a terrifying situation so much easier to deal with!