It's 12:10 a.m. My sweet baby two-year-old is quietly sleeping now, after six long hours in the emergency room.
Zeke's been warm since birth. I mean really, the kid's warm-blooded. He always feels like he has a fever. But yesterday he was much warmer than usual. He refused to let Josh or I touch inside his mouth, so we figured "Ah, the 2-year molars are coming through." We gave him Tylenol and called it a night. At 3:20 a.m. my mom came to our door (we are living with my parents and Zeke sleeps in her room), waking me up to tell me that Zeke was talking in his sleep, breathing fast, and felt very warm. I went in, woke him up, gave him Motrin, sang to him, and put him right back down. When he woke up in the morning, he was fairly warm, but not enough for me to be very worried. My dad had plans for the day involving his car, so Zeke and I were to walk to the drug store next to the neighborhood and get an ear thermometer (have you ever tried to take a rectal temperature on a two year old? Me either, and I'd like to keep it that way). I really didn't think anything would come of me taking his temperature. Honestly, the last few times I've thought he had a fever, they've been completely false alarms.
102.7. Yes, it's my favorite radio station from where I grew up in Southern California, but it's also my sweet baby's temperature this morning after our walk. Again, not overly concerned and very aware that sometimes kids just get fevers, I gave him some Motrin, a chocolate ice cream bar, and he felt much better. When nap time came, I left to vet some day care centers in the area while my dad worked in the front office of the house. Upon my return, Zeke was already awake, which, only 2 and 1/2 hours after going down, is never a good sign. He's a long napper, unless something's wrong.
It was physically uncomfortable to hold him, he was so hot. "Burning up" does not begin to describe it. I immediately took his temperature.
103.5. I remember, as a kid, growing up sick. I had strep throat every 10 days--as soon as the antibiotics were out of my system, I had a new infection. I weighed 25 pounds at 5 years old. My fevers were frequently 104 and 106. And I knew the scared look in my mother's eyes when she read the thermometer. My eyes told the same story today.
Precious Zeke had two attempts at IV's--one in each hand, that failed. He had his temperature taken rectally. He had a bag stuck onto him to catch his urine. There were chest x-rays, one from the front and two from the side with his arms held up--twice because he was screaming too hard the first time. He had to wait and watch American Idol, Glee, AND Parenthood with us while we waited SIX HOURS for test results. His fever broke, he sweated, then it started to rise again. My poor, poor child.
The diagnosis, which you know if you are a friend of mine on Facebook or follow me on Twitter, was Pneumonia. He had no symptoms and has even been on antibiotics for 10 days due to an ear infection, but he has Pneumonia.
I wrote that last night. Really, this morning. He was feeling well when he woke up for about 15 minutes, but it's been downhill from there. He's now sleeping peacefully in his crib, which is a welcome sight and sound.
We are ALL exhausted.