This week, Brock was off galavanting around Anaheim at Blizzcon. He left on Wednesday afternoon, and I was working that day. Brock’s little brother Brady had come to stay with us so we would have someone to watch Ronan.
Thursday morning, we spent some much needed play time with Ronan’s buddy Fox (and his sweet momma!) While we were there, I noticed that Ronan was feeling warm. It was really his only symptom, and he was acting fine. I took him home and put him down for a nap, and he slept for almost 4 hours. When I got him up, he was feeling HOT. His temperature was 103.8, the highest it’s ever been, and with his recent episode of low-grade fevers, I called the pediatrician. They told me it was likely a virus, to manage it with lots of fluids, and to call back if anything changed.
Friday morning, Ronan was still hot. 103.6, and not interested in food. Sluggish, clingy, he had no energy. He had another four hour nap, and I had to leave him with Brady when I went in for work. I left Brady with medicine instructions, phone numbers to call, and the very serious order that if something felt wrong, or if something happened, he was to go to the hospital FIRST, call me SECOND.
Through text messages, Brady informed me that he wasn’t able to get Ronan to eat anything, and he went to bed very early. He slept through the night, and when I got home at 7:30am, I went up to check on him. He was burning up. I gave him a cup of milk, and changed his diaper – which was dry. I felt better that he was drinking some milk, but I went to bed worried.
I woke up at 1:30 in the afternoon, and came out to chat with Brady. He informed me that Ronan woke at 10am, drank a little more milk, and nothing else. He wouldn’t eat. He had had two impressive diarrhea diapers, and went down for a nap. At this point, I started really freaking out. He’d been managing the fever with Tylenol and Advil and said Ronan didn’t feel terribly warm. I started asking friends and family members for advice, and when it would be time to go to ER. After suggestions of juice, gatorade and popsicles, I made a quick trip to Target for some ammo.
When I got home, I sat in the car and imagined the worst. I have a penchant for that, I guess. I bawled my eyes out for about 10 minutes before I had the guts to get out of the car and go in the house. Ronan was still sleeping. He napped until 4pm, and when I got him up I started crying again. His diaper was STILL dry, he was shaking and couldn’t stand up. He wouldn’t raise his head off my shoulder, and his temples were sunken in. After refusing juice, pedialyte, gatorade and even plain water, I had finally decided it was time to go to the ER. Before getting Ronan dressed, I asked Brady to get a grape popsicle out of the freezer. It was worth a try.
Ronan had never had a popsicle before, so he wasn’t sure what to do with it. I held it for him, and he opened his mouth. He got his first taste, and looked at me… then nodded. “That’s good, momma.”
He started biting, and slurping down the juice. He was COVERED in purple, and even smiled at me a little. And then a wondrous thing happened. He walked over to his cup of water, and drank it back. He signed “eat” and ate a whole bowl of macaroni and cheese. He wanted apple sauce, and then more water. He started laughing, and running around, and lo and behold… a wet diaper! I have never been so happy to change a wet diaper in my life. Twenty minutes later, he peed again, and I took a HUGE sigh of relief. I had to leave for work, but suddenly things felt okay. I felt like we were out of the danger zone, and on the mend.
All because of one grape popsicle.
