Yesterday, I dropped a perfectly healthy little boy off at school. My neighbor picked a perfectly healthy little boy up from school while I was at work. I picked up a perfectly healthy little boy from my neighbor late last night.
At one in the morning, I found myself rushing a not so perfectly healthy little boy to the ER.
I had tucked them in last night around 11:30 after I got home. K was still awake when I checked on them about an hour later. He was fine. No cough. No congestion. No fever. No sign that anything was wrong.
I was playing Candy Crush at around one a.m. when I heard what sounded like K gasping for air. At first, I thought he was playing. (Believe it or not, he's done that.) Until I walked into his room and watched his eyes roll back into his head, vomit everywhere, unable to breathe...and don't ask me in which order I realized all this, because I slipped into panicked Mommy mode too quickly to be able to tell you for sure which order it came in. All I know is, I nebbed him twice in an attempt to get him breathing. When it didn't work, I bolted out my front door and pounded on my neighbor's door for them to take Byrd. Being from a rural area originally, my immediate instinct was not to call an ambulance, but to throw my seizing, barely conscious, hardly breathing son into the front seat of my truck and speed off to the ER myself.
We got there and were immediately brought back to be seen, where they realized more was wrong than just an unusual (for him) seizure. My mom showed up, and we waited together to find out what was happening to my boy.
My perfectly healthy child was admitted to the pediatric ward of the hospital at four in the morning with pneumonia, with no symptoms prior to the ones that brought us into the hospital.
He is on steroids, antibiotics, and oxygen, with a 30% lung capacity at the moment. We don't know what happened. There were no signs, and with the build up in his lungs...there should have been. He is now sitting up and talking, with oxygen off and on, and the hope that the steroids and antibiotics will kick whatever invaded his shot system. My boy has no immune system; sneeze fifty miles away, my boy will catch the plague. I don't know how this happened. I don't know why he showed no signs of illness before those terrifying moments last night. All I know is, hug your babies tight. Run to them if they make a strange sound in the middle of the night. Because if I'd written off the strange sounds I heard coming from his room late last night...he'd be dead now.
At one in the morning, I found myself rushing a not so perfectly healthy little boy to the ER.
I had tucked them in last night around 11:30 after I got home. K was still awake when I checked on them about an hour later. He was fine. No cough. No congestion. No fever. No sign that anything was wrong.
I was playing Candy Crush at around one a.m. when I heard what sounded like K gasping for air. At first, I thought he was playing. (Believe it or not, he's done that.) Until I walked into his room and watched his eyes roll back into his head, vomit everywhere, unable to breathe...and don't ask me in which order I realized all this, because I slipped into panicked Mommy mode too quickly to be able to tell you for sure which order it came in. All I know is, I nebbed him twice in an attempt to get him breathing. When it didn't work, I bolted out my front door and pounded on my neighbor's door for them to take Byrd. Being from a rural area originally, my immediate instinct was not to call an ambulance, but to throw my seizing, barely conscious, hardly breathing son into the front seat of my truck and speed off to the ER myself.
We got there and were immediately brought back to be seen, where they realized more was wrong than just an unusual (for him) seizure. My mom showed up, and we waited together to find out what was happening to my boy.
My perfectly healthy child was admitted to the pediatric ward of the hospital at four in the morning with pneumonia, with no symptoms prior to the ones that brought us into the hospital.
He is on steroids, antibiotics, and oxygen, with a 30% lung capacity at the moment. We don't know what happened. There were no signs, and with the build up in his lungs...there should have been. He is now sitting up and talking, with oxygen off and on, and the hope that the steroids and antibiotics will kick whatever invaded his shot system. My boy has no immune system; sneeze fifty miles away, my boy will catch the plague. I don't know how this happened. I don't know why he showed no signs of illness before those terrifying moments last night. All I know is, hug your babies tight. Run to them if they make a strange sound in the middle of the night. Because if I'd written off the strange sounds I heard coming from his room late last night...he'd be dead now.
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