ER Visit

I've decided there is nothing sadder than a little kid in the ER. They're just so helpless. So sick. So sad. So adorably in need of their mama. I love feeling needed. Most of the time.

Last Saturday afternoon, our little Ben woke up from his nap struggling to breathe. He could barely get a wheezing breath in and out. It was pretty scary, so I rushed him down to urgent care. As I drove wildly down the street, fists clutching the steering wheel, I mentally dared any cop to pull me over for speeding. He would surely regret that decision as soon as he faced the wrath of a terrified mother whose child can't breathe.

I got him to urgent care 15 minutes before they closed. The receptionist was maddeningly calm as I checked in and explained that the baby in my arms could hardly breathe. The nurse came out and explained that he had croup and they couldn't really do anything for him since you have to track them for a few hours after you give a breathing treatment, and they were closing soon.

Are you seriously telling me you can't do anything to help my child who is struggling for breath? Besides, Caleb used to get croup all the time and he always got the tell-tale barking cough. He could always breathe, however. Ben wasn't coughing. "He can't breathe!" I practically screamed at her.

After a call to the hospital, she finally let us back into a room and tried to give him albuteral (I later learned that this does nothing for croup, it is for asthma). He HATED it, plus it didn't help his breathing at all. He was just getting more worked up. Finally she told me to take him to the ER, as they had more medications available to them. Really, I just think she wanted us out of her hair so she could close up shop and go home.

Erik showed up with the other kids and we caravaned to the hospital. Thanks to the urgent care nurse calling ahead, they got Ben right in. Turns out it WAS a sudden attack of croup. They tried another breathing treatment (something they called an "epi treatment") which didn't seem to do much. Finally they gave him a steroid shot which started helping. I sat with him on the hospital bed for 2 1/2 hours, holding a tube up to his mouth and trying to get him to breathe in the cool mist. We watched an Amanda Bynes movie, which helped pass the time. Nevertheless, the poor kid was so miserable and exhausted.
After a couple of hours, he finally started to perk up. When he ripped the heart monitor off his toe and wiggled down to the floor I knew he was going to be OK. "He's back!" I cheered. He scarfed down the chips Erik had bought at the cafeteria and tried to play with the computer keyboard in his room. By this time Erik had taken the kids home to bed, so it was just me and my little boy. I was so thankful that he was feeling better!

I went to tell the nurse that he was feeling better. Didn't want to interrupt the group of nurses and doctors gossiping at the nurse's station, as it was obviously a huge intrusion. It of course took them forever to get the paperwork processed, but they finally sent us on our way.

I'm so grateful he is feeling better! That was a scary day. Now I know to go straight to the ER if this ever happens again. Thank heavens for modern medicine.