It's been one of those weekends that you need to follow up with another weekend just to recover.
Evan had a small cold last week. But, on Saturday when he should have been getting better, he woke up with trouble breathing. Something didn't seem right. It wasn't the kind of congestion that comes with colds. His breaths were short and shallow. He was wheezing, and seemed to be fighting really hard for each breath. During our second call to the doctor, he decided we should head to the ER.
He got some breathing treatments, had a chest x-ray, and was generally poked and prodded for a few hours in a tiny room full of stuff he couldn't touch. They decided we should stay overnight, because there was a slight chance he had pneumonia, and his air flow wasn't quite where they wanted it. So, 2 hours past bedtime, we finally laid Evan down with the knowledge we'd be getting up every three hours for treatments - which he hated. Actually, he pretty much hated everything that needed to be done. He didn't even want them to listen to his heart. He never went back to sleep after his 4:30 treatment, but he was starting to hate them less.
After breakfast, his breathing was great. He was in a great mood, and seemed really healthy. We couldn't wait to see our pediatrician and vacate the premises.
You know you're in trouble when you're given the option of receiving good news or bad news and the good news disappoints you. He said we'd most likely be able to go home later this evening, but would need to continue using the nebulizer at home every four hours until next week. (If you're doing the math, that means having to wake him up twice a night!) Then he casually informed us that Evan probably has asthma and that he's considering this to be Evan's first asthma attack.
It's funny that even though Jeff has asthma, the thought had never crossed my mind. It seemed to come out of nowhere. Much like any diagnosis - one day you're fine and the next day you have x, y, or z...or in our case, Asthma.
I instantly became the mother of a sick child. I bought him new toys. I began thinking of how to limit risk factors - mainly, how to keep our house cleaner, which, given my skill set in that area, is a thought that should keep me busy for a while! And, I started to fear for every future burst of activity, humid forecast, and tantrum.
Evan became a complete pro with the nebulizer and we got to go home before dinner. Before long, he was running around like nothing happened. He'll also be taking a steroid for the next few days, which is awesome. Not only will I be back in newborn-no-sleep-land (ok, so it won't be that bad,) but he'll probably be too hyped up on 'roids to nap well for the remainder of my time at home. Wait, how is this about me right now?
Anyway, my precious little blue-eyed boy may, or may not have Asthma. We have to just wait and see if he has more attacks. I know that it could be so much worse, but I'm still worried!