Leif was admitted to the hospital Wednesday morning for what was declared in the ER to be a "severe asthma attack". Tuesday evening in the bathtub he started wheezing, so I nebulized him. He had a little bit of a cold and had been complaining of a sore throat that day and the day prior.
At about 2am he woke up wheezing and asked for his "fertilizer". At 2am nothing much makes sense. Talking to a preschooler at that time of morning doesn't make it easier. Finally it dawned on me how much coughing he was doing. So I fertilized him. I started to get concerned as well and hauled him to bed with us where AB and I debated a trip to the ER right then. At 4am it was evident that things were not right, his breathing was labored. A little while later he woke up and said, "I can't breathe".
AB had just left for work (I knew this as I was not sleeping and instead watching Leif sleep). I called AB on his cell phone and he turned around, came inside and ran him off to the ER. I felt helpless and scared as I sat around the house at 5:30am waiting for Skadi to wake up so that I could get her ready and take her to daycare.
By the time I arrived at the hospital the decision to admit him had been made.
We walked down the halls of the pediatric ward and I was hit with how thankful I was.
My son was by far and away the healthiest child in the ward. Rooms with signs controlling exposure were everywhere. Rooms with children laying in beds.
I was thankful it was a chore to keep my son in bed.
Truly, I don't know how parents of sick children do it. I truly don't. My prayers are with them all.
No comments:
Post a Comment