Tuesday night we woke up to being showered in puke. It was gross, but mostly, it was sad. Austin didn't understand why he had a continuous line of fluid coming out of him rather than going in. He looked pretty dazed and confused. This went on for an hour and a half before the diarrhea set in.
1 AM came around and we found ourselves being admitted into the ER at the hospital. The baby just looked too pale and listless and the fluids coming out were non stop. Of course when we were checking in Austin was giving his lovable grin to all who would look his way. He had his sleepy hair that was standing on end and he was in PJ's, so I'm sure he just looked like a really sweet cuddly baby that have some crazy parents that have nothing better to do than take trips to the hospital in the middle of the night.
They gave him something to calm his belly. The male nurse came in who looked to be in his 20's and said, "Oh yeah, that stuff is good, that's what we give all the drunks who have hangovers." He was a nice enough nurse and checked on us regularly. He cuddled Austin and made him smile, but I think it was one of my first "mom" moments. No longer was I a person who could find the humor in a baby taking the same medication as a stumbling college kid. I was the mom with the sick baby who was worried and sitting in some medical room wishing for the puke to stop. I gave a polite chuckle as he left the room and cuddled Austin a little tighter. We nursed him and 30 minutes later with no signs of puking, Chris told them we were ready to head home.
Our experience wasn't scary. We knew Austin would be better and we felt lucky to have the health insurance that we did so deciding to go to the hospital was only a pain in the fact that we had to get out of bed. Austin is on the mend. I don't think he is great yet as he still pukes if he eats solids, and that is only rarely as he refuses to eat them. But still, it wasn't a fun experience, and one that I am in no hurry to have repeated.
I have a friend whose daughter has Cystic Fibrosis. Most of the people who know me know this as I am participating in a walk for CF on June 7th and am in the middle of the fun process of raising money. If you haven't been asked for a donation, but would still like to contribute, you can always go HERE.
My friend ended up at Children's Hospital this week because her daughter has had a month long cough. They sent her home with a thousand more medications to add to the bazillion she already takes. She is 7 months old. They told her that if the cough still hasn't cleared in 2 weeks, they will need to have the girl admitted for a couple week long stay. The thought of that freezes me. How can you make sense of that? Turns out, you can't. My friend says it was a huge wake up call. Her daughter really does have this terminal disease and it will be there, staring at them, for her entire life. I can only hope that her entire life is on the longer end of the life expectancy for kids with CF...somewhere around 37 or 40 or so. 37 sounds so young when you have a baby's face to put with that sentence.
Knowing the differences between her and I when we enter a hospital makes our experience seem like a trip to the carnival.
There are so many walks and fund raisers and talks on finding a cure. A cure for cancer, a cure for AIDS, a cure for the common cold. I think what is forgotten a lot of time is the desperation in that finding. You want to snuggle your kids and tell them it will all be OK. For my friend, a lot needs to happen before she can have that talk with her baby. I hope that I can be of some assistance in helping her reach that goal.
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