12/9/12
Recently I've seen several commercials for St. Jude's. They always end by saying "Give thanks for the healthy children in your lives and give to those who aren't." Never before have those commercials meant so much to me.
The past three days, Isabelle, Dad and I have spent hours moving around a 8 x 14 foot room on the fifth floor of Carden's Children's Hospital. Our poor baby girl has been hooked up to many machines, with IVs and x-rays, with blood draws, and more tests than I care to share here. It has been hard watching her go through the last few days and while she screams at the top of her lungs as they poke her yet again, I fight back tears and remind myself, they are only doing it to help her get better.
Isabelle has been sick since before Thanksgiving. I think it was party due to us introducing her to day care. I guess I should have known better, why introduce a baby to the germiest of germiest places, during cold and flu season. But we didn't have too many choices and it was something that was inevitable. During Thanksgiving Isabelle was miserable with a bad cold. Thinking she would get better, instead she got worse. By the Sunday after Thanksgiving she had started running a fever and had watery/mattery eyes, for her a sign of ear infection. So to the doctors we went and indeed, self-prescribed Dr. Mom was right. With a quick look, a listen to the chest and a prescription we went home. Again we thought, she'll get better now, she's got some antibiotic. Instead she continued to get worse. The coughing until she'd gasp for air, the nose that wouldn't stop running and the cry that clearly said, "I don't feel good". By Friday, Jarrett and I decided to take her back to the doctor. Turns out her ear infection had turned into a double inner ear infection, along with reactive airway disease. Our baby was really sick. This time we were given the next level of antibiotics, and told "this would take care of any infection she has." By Saturday, the very next day, we were convinced she was still not going in the right direction. With fever's of 102-103 a consistent presence for now a week straight, she started throwing up. Given she has given up eating food for 4 days at this point we called the doctor on Saturday night to be told, now she had contracted the flu.
After sharing her "flu" with mom and dad, by Tuesday morning we knew she had to be seen yet again. It was clear she had been losing weight and only weighing 17 lbs at 10 months, she didn't have a lot to loose. By Tuesday she had lost a pound in a half in less than a week. The doctors looked in her ears to see that not only had they not improved with the medicine, they had gotten worse. Now they decided to inject her with a higher level, stronger antibiotic and hope that that would do the trick. Our little bundle of energy, the one who smiles from the moment she wakes, until the moment she sleeps, had turned into a whimpering, energy-less baby that would stare blankly and collapse into one's body as she almost begged to have someone help her. Terrible, that is how I felt, for not being able to help her. Wednesday again we returned to the doctor, to be told she's need another round of injectable antibiotics and that is she had lost most weight by Thursday, our next step was the hospital. The doctors ordered me to force as many liquids down her body as possible. She hadn't eaten anything solid for well over a week at this point and was not interested in drinking very much either. Plus the throwing up had been constant since Saturday, so they gave us an antinausea medicine to try as well. But on Wednesday when I left the doctors I was determined to get her to drink, so I tried anything I could think of.... we had formula, Pedialyte, Gatorade, melted jello, Popsicles, water. Anything liquid, within reason of course, I tried.
By Thursday, I saw glimpses of her pre-sick self, and thought for a moment maybe she was turning a corner. A return visit to the doctors office showed that she hadn't lost weight since the day before, so they gave her yet another round of injections and said, we'll see her tomorrow and hope she's continuing to do better. However, her spurt of energy turned out to be just that, a spurt. By Thursday afternoon she refused to be anywhere but in my arms and at this point wouldn't eat or sadly drink. The crying and whimpering all afternoon turned into a spiked fever of a 103 and a screaming cry that couldn't be calmed. That is until she screamed so long that she wore her self to a point of pure exhausted, only to be started a few minutes later by another screaming bought.
By Friday morning, I wrote a long note to the doctor and gave Jarrett firm instructions not to leave that doctors office until they told us exactly what was going to be done in the next 24 hours to assure us she would get better. It wasn't that they weren't trying, it was just that nothing was working. I drove to work with a big pit in my stomach and prayed that something, anything would finally work. Although her appointment wasn't until 9, Jarrett waited outside the office at 7:45 a.m., until it opened so that she could be seen immediately. Within 20 minutes after the office opened, Jarret called. She's going to the hospital, you need to meet me. As if I didn't feel guilty enough leaving her that morning, I raced from my office as quickly as I could to get to her.
We walked into Banner Cardon's Children's Medical Center and within 10 minutes we were registered and had been moved back into a room. I'm not sure if it was because of the way she looked, or that that they are so great. I tell myself it is because they are a great place, but I fear it was the other reason. Upon checking in, Isabelle's temperature was taken and at 103.7, they immediately gave her fever reducer as the doctors started reviewing her vitals, taking notes about her reasons for coming and determining an action plan. Poor Isabelle was still throwing up, crying and obviously feeling terrible. It was soon determined, Isabelle would not be leaving the hospital and so we were moved to the in-patient area.
After moving out of the ER and into a room where they would perform all of the "tests" we were slightly relieved that we were hopefully getting her the help she needed. What would come next though was not fun. Test after test, with a scared, in pain and very sick baby that wanted nothing other than to be held by mom (oh and to leave). A chest x-ray was ordered, blood work, every bodily fluid sample they could get was tested. I'll leave out the details but it was clear as they tried to insert the IV and take other samples, that she was extremely dehydrated and that she needed fluids right away.
As with any hospital visit and or medical procedure, the results never come soon enough, and my worrying gene of course kicked in. I feared the unknown and prayed that it would come back as nothing serious. Even when the ER doctor diagnosed her with pneumonia, I was relieved. I worried the news could be more serious, yet pneumonia in a 10 month old is scary enough. As more and more test results came back, the doctors decided we were going to get moved up into our permanent room for our stay, the 5th floor. The floor for early school age children, as the pediatric floor was full.
Getting to our room brought me some continued relief, it was clear, this was going to be our home for the next few days. As as the monitors beeped and the fluids and medicine dripped into her veins, we settled in and pretended we were at the Ritz. The next several days blurred together as we tried to keep Isabelle happy and gather the information we could about exactly what Isabelle was fighting. In addition to her cold, followed by ear infection and then the flu, the doctors concluded she also contracted a bacterial and viral infection. It was more than her body could fight off.
Our poor baby looking 100% better than when we brought her in. Still very pale, weak and dehydrated, at least in this picture the fluids were pumping in and she was on the road to recovery.
Most of the day she spent lying down, too tired and weak to want to sit up. And when she wasn't resting in her bed, she wanted to be cradled in my arms, comforted and held safe from the "people in blue" that seemed to be constantly poking her.
This is the view of our room. If you look up 5 floors from the fire truck on the far left, that is the room we had. The view out was pretty as well as we could see many mountains surrounding the valley and at night the Christmas lights were beautiful.
On Sunday, when she was finally was strong enough to stand again on her own, I was able to snap this picture. The gown was the smallest they had and still was more like a potato sack than any sort of gown.
The staff and nurses at the hospital were amazing. They took the time to get to know her, to know us and they were more than accommodating. Our family was wonderful and helped us care for the boys and keep our "lives" running while Jarrett and I continuously stayed with the baby. And when it was finally time for us to leave, a time we were definitely ready for, I felt mixed emotions for we were the lucky family that left with a healthy baby. I knew there were many families in that hospital that will not get to go home for Christmas and even worse families that will leave the hospital without their little loved one.
Having Isabelle be so sick and in the hospital for several days was very scary and I pray we never have another visit. For I am reminded again of St. Jude's and just how lucky we are. This Christmas, we will give thanks for the healthy children in our lives, because we know just how much of a gift their health can be.
Until next time,
angie
