Timeline of a Week

Tuesday:
Jacob is sent home from daycare with a 101.5 fever at 3pm.  He is up most of the night.  He sleeps on me, sleeping on his recliner.  Between Kate and Jacob being up I get about 3 hours sleep.

Wednesday:  
Leave him with our trusted sitter so I can go teach.  Has a 103.5 fever at noon.  At 3pm when I get home, he's limping.  I call the babysitter.  She said he was falling a lot in the morning but she attributed it to a possible ear infection.  Now it is definitely a limp.  I call Paul, we talk about taking him to after-hours at our doc office (nurses on call then).  I call the doctor, starting to freak out about something neurological (he's dragging the leg).  They don't have an opening so I leave a message for the nurse.  She calls back an hour later telling me the doctor said to go to the ER.  (confirming freak-out)

Having learned from my first ER experience with Kate which lasted six hours, I pack lots of food, drinks, and diapers, then head out.  We arrive around 4:30pm

We are being pushed through faster than people before us.  A bad sign.

Paul shows up some time later.

Around 5:30pm I see our babysitter (a Dell Children's Child Life Specialist) walk by.  She promises to bring toys and keep an eye on us.

Around 6:30pm the doctor tells us he's worried Jacob might have a septic joint.  He admits us.  Paul takes the first shift at the hospital.  I run by Target to get tractor toys, clothes for Jacob, and snacks for him as well.  He's not eating much, so I pick out some applesauce and pouches.  I get home around 11:30pm, relieve my mom of duty, and take melatonin so I'll get some sleep and not freak out all night.

Thursday
Nana takes Kate to school. I have studiously avoided talking to anyone because I am aware a very narrow and delicate dam is holding back the tears.  I decide to call Kate's school to let them know, in case she talks about it or is upset at school.  At which point, I suddenly start crying to the director (luckily she is both an amazingly kind woman, and a friend).  Get coffee, Tacodeli tacos, and head to the hospital.








The team has already come by.  Apparently no one slept much.  It quickly becomes difficult to keep track of all the different doctors and I have no understanding of the hierarchy.  They said his white count and an inflammation marker were highly elevated suggesting a septic joint.

Throughout the day, he has the IV hooked up for fluids, gets a couple extra blood draws because the IV isn't giving them blood.  Then around mid-day gets knocked out entirely for a bone scan.  This is the scariest part of the day for me.

They gave him some drug to make him loopy so the separation would be less traumatic and it worked:  he looked and acted drunk, and when they wheeled him away he was too entranced by the moving bed to notice us disappearing down the hall.  Waking up he was a complete freak-out mess, and then when he finally came to, he fell asleep on me with huge gasping sobs.  They had to intubate him during the procedure so he was miserably sore and hoarse.

Bones were fine.  No MRI needed.

Everyone seemed confused about what was going on.  Not so reassuring.

Neuro comes and rules-out stroke and ataxia.  (The pediatrician was die-hard for ataxia, but even my year of neuropsych told me this wasn't ataxia.)  The neuro PA was great, the neuro doc seemed like she was in a hurry to be somewhere.  Everyone else was annoying.

His fever breaks and he starts acting slightly better.  Still limping, but not dragging the leg.

Nana brings Kate for dinner.  We all go downstairs to the cafeteria to eat.  Kate loves the fish and thinks it is all grand.

I spend the night with him.  He sleeps soundly (the took the IV off which helped).

Friday

5am nurses come and draw blood.  I get Jacob back to sleep after a while.  The nurses think we are being discharged.

7am I wake up to the annoying med student.  He asks me how Jacob is walking.  I point out he is still asleep.  

He wakes around 8am.  I am convinced I am leaving no matter what.  He looks better, a new neuro doc looks at him again and says he looks fine.   The peds team still acts like we're staying another night to "watch him."

A new ped doc comes who can communicate well enough that I am reassured she knows her shit.  She also consults with a pediatric rheumotologist to confirm ideas about joint problems and walking, is willing to talk to my brother-in-law and use doc-talk to explain what's going on to him, and also talks with the orthopedist again.  Her willingness to talk to everyone and to actually watch him walk (you'd be surprised how few people saw this), made me feel worlds better.  She also says there is no need to stay in the hospital to wait for an MRI and we should go home and schedule it as an outpatient procedure.  She earns yet more points.

Annoying resident left us largely alone after commenting on me seeming mad.  (haha.  powers of bitchy mama.)  I don't understand her role.  She pretty much would come to repeat questions and tell us useless things.

Therapy dog comes by.  Babysitter back on call and comes by.  Toy and book cart comes by (new ball and Cars book to show for it).

Annoying medical student (poor dude) continued to harass us even after he asked me a question about if we were having an MRI to which I said:  I thought the doctors were supposed to know.  I was tired.  And, to give myself a little credit, four different doctors would come in and ask us questions about what was going on instead of communicating with one another;  or, tell us about a procedure that was going to happen which had in reality already happened.

Dell specialists:  awesome.  Staff on call:  annoying as all get out.

Rheumatologist said to give him  naproxene for two full days and if he's better than it's Toxic Synovitis. If not he would need an MRI.

By 6pm they decide we can leave.

Saturday
Huge improvement!  Walking better, almost normal.

Sunday
Cranky but walking well!

We have a check-up on Monday.  I am confident this is done with.

The weirdest part was coming home.  You feel like something fundamental has shifted;  like the world should be different.  But everything's the same.  (well, the house looks like a tornado hit it...)  So glad he is fine.

Now that we've hit our deductible, what else should we do??