After those two hours, docs still felt his lungs were working too hard to breathe. We were admitted. Wasn't the first time we've been admitted. This is the third time. *sigh* Can you imagine keeping a 21 month old in a small, cage like hospital room with the round the clock breathing treatments and vital checks? Yeah, me neither. But we did it. Shep was a trooper. He was labeled a "happy wheezer." Meaning, he might be struggling to breath, but dammit he'll jump on the bed and push chairs around and play with tubes, cause "Hey! This shit is awesome!" Happy wheezers are particularly hard to read when it comes to asthma because they really don't let you know it's a problem until it's too late.
Sometime in the middle of the night (between delirium and yoga breaths for myself) Shep stopped weezing. Vitals got better and better and he was riding high on his oral steroid. See, the oral steroids make them mean. Really mean. Even though it stopped inflammation, it cause excessive inflammation in my face due to slaps from my cranked up son. He was not happy about me holding a mask on him and the steroids gave him just enough balls to smack the hell out of me out of nowhere. I took it like a man. Cause, my kid was breathing and all....
Finally asleep. After a long morning.
Get this damn purple dinosaur away from me. It's not cute anymore.
The next morning he was well rested (that's total bull shit- he slept, like 45 mins) and was ready to play!I was not ready to play. But JuJu (grandma) had flown in to be his playmate while I caught a cat nap.
Finally we were discharged (with a gazillion prescriptions in hand) Friday afternoon and thankful to be going home. Shepherd had been such a flirt and so Ooooey Goooey Cutsie Rolly Polly that the nurses were smitten with him. Apparently I got the only abuse. But that's okay. I'll take it. Cause I'm the one that gets to cuddle and hold him and be his mama. And I'm so so grateful that's he's doing better.
I'm now off to order crazy Helicopter Mom ID bracelets and labels and epi pen directions and inhaler directions to every and any person that comes within 2 feet of my son. Because the doctor told me so. She scared this mama. "He has a very bad combo of anaphylaxis (food allergy reaction where airways close up) and asthma. This can be life threatening and all it takes is a cold and a bite of the wrong food."
That's about when I *gulped* and took a deep breath. And started in with a little self blaming.
Then I stopped and chose to learn instead of blame.
So now it's time to get a little more serious about this thing. I think I've tried to sort of down play it in my head in order to cope. Thinking he'd grow out of it. So and So outgrew it by 2- so he will too. Yeah...... no. The reality is that he'll always have to carry an epi pen and an inhaler everywhere he goes. And I'll always have to start the meds as soon as I see that first cough or eye watering. And he'll more than likely have to get a puff or two when we go to the playground. Cause thinking back- the poor kid wheezes any time he exerts himself.
I flashed forward to him as a teenager. What if he does something stupid (cause all teenagers are stupid) and forgets his inhaler? What if he eats a pecan by accident while he has a cold? One day I won't be with him all the time. Will he remember?
But then I realized it's not my job to worry about his future. It's futile. Cause I'm all about the present aren't I? And presently I have a strong, resilient, smart toddler man child that is ready to go. And I gotta keep up with him. So I'll let tomorrow worry about itself. In the mean time I'll have my epi-inhaler weapon ready to attack.