Part 7: Hospital or Not?
And just in case we didn't think it was blood, she starts "going" again while we're changing her. Now there's a string of "fresh" blood.
Call doc now. No ifs, ands or buts.
I call the doctor. He's nice and calm, asks about her diet for the day, etc. Different questions. I really like our pediatrician. He doesn't jump to conclusions, he's not overly dramatic, panicky or anything. He's a researcher, more like an engineer…. So he says hmmmm, could be a milk allergy, I've seen that happen with babies who are allergic to milk. You can always take her to the ER, just to be safe.
I hang up with the doctor and hop on the internet. I search everything possible for blood in diaper. Milk allergy.
Milk allergy.
Milk allergy.
Oooooook. So, do I take my newborn to the Emergency Room and expose her to all those germs? Do I wait a little while and see if anything changes? Maybe it's a fluke. I mean, the first was dark blood and it wasn't much… and the second was fresh but well, maybe it was a milk allergy. That's always possible.
Deedee (best friend/babysitter) leaves. I have all three children. I'm hurting from my other "issues", I hadn't picked up my prescription yet, I'm tired, I'm overwhelmed, I'm sore… I'm all alone.
I call my mother-in-law and ask her to keep Bryson and Abigail for the evening. She's more than happy to help out. I give her a quick synopsis of Addison and her issues. She's concerned too, but like me also wonders if we should take her to the ER and expose her to all those germs. I told her that I would give it a little more time.
A friend from church stops by with dinner. Ahhh, dinner. I'm so tired and that's just awesome. I have dinner already ready. She looks at me and says is everything ok? I try not to burst into tears, knowing most of it is just pregnancy hormones. I take a deep breath and quickly fill her in, telling her my mother-in-law was coming to get Bryson and Abby, that I was probably just going to take a hot bubble bath and go to bed early.
She lingers at the door for a minute. I know she has to go, but you could tell she wanted to be there for me too. I urge her on, saying we would be just fine. Later on she would tell me how completely awful she felt when she found out what happened. She was so upset for leaving me, she had that "feeling" and didn't listen to it. I remember reassuring her that at the time I did not feel like Addison was in any danger, that it was most likely a milk allergy like both the doctor and the internet said, and who would have ever thought it'd end up the way it did?
She leaves and I do exactly as I told her I would. I took a bubble bath. Addison is in her rocker/ napper (that thing is awesome - a must have for every parent) sleeping peacefully. I pull it into the doorway and take a bubble bath.
I notice that every so often, Addison does this weird little cry out… like a gas pain or something. When I say every so often, it wasn't often enough that I timed it or noticed a pattern, just noticed a few times. I wondered if I should take her to the ER. I really had no desire to go to the Emergency Room and sit there for 6 hours just to have them tell me my baby has a milk allergy.
So you're probably wondering by now, where's the husband? What's his opinion?
He didn't know. I hadn't called him.
Before you rush and judge me, let me explain. It's Friday. It's game day. It's Homecoming. My husband is a football coach, and a darn good one at that. I knew if I called and said I was taking Addy to the ER that he would leave the game.
It's just a game, right? This is our daughter. And she could be sick.
No, it's football. If you're a coach's wife, you understand. Most of the time, you take a backseat during football season. You understand the sacrifices a family makes. You understand that weekends are full of meetings and trainings, holidays and vacations are worked around schedules, if a child is sick, everyone calls you first because he has football practice.
We got married during football season. He missed a game because of the rehearsal dinner. That was a big deal. We did not go on a honeymoon. It was football season. It's understood.
It's not JUST a game. It's a way of life. And apparently it was a way of life that certain people did not think I supported. I met with another couple about two weeks prior to that, seeking help and support for my husband in balancing some of the things going on in his life.
Watch out. When you reach out for help, be prepared for it to backfire. And oh did it backfire. I was accused… no, not even accused… I was TOLD that I did not support my husband's football career, that I constantly made it difficult for him to do his job and he always seemed torn.
Let's get something straight. I did everything I could to support my husband's coaching career. I was so incredibly mad that this couple, a couple I loved and respected, that had known my husband and I for years, would actually say those words to me. I arranged babysitters when needed, I moved and shuffled things around, gave up my free time and my days anytime impromptu meetings were called. I was mad. I was hurt. It stung.
Stung so much that when the choice came to pull my husband from a football game to take our daughter to the ER or wait it out, I chose to wait it out.
I made the choice.
I pulled up the game on the Internet. I watched the score as I hemmed and hawed over what to do.
I spoke with my sister-in-law a few times… sent her pictures of the diapers. Yes, I know, TMI… but she's in the pediatric medical field, so shoot… this is her business… her area of expertise…. she was expecting blood blood… not the little amounts we had. So she was a little on the fence too.
The diapers continued. I wrote the time on the outside and bagged them up, thinking we would go to the ER after the football game.
I check the score. The score is outrageous….. I think it was like 34-7 or something like that. I call hubby and leave a message… something doesn't seem right and I think we need to take Addy to the ER.
My sister-in-law calls back… says why not just be safe and take her… I agree with her and told her I had just called hubby. She offers to call the ER and find out who's on call tonight, let them know we're coming, etc. (They know her… so maybe if I name drop I can get in and out without even being there too long). I tell her no…. thanks, but that's ok. I don't want to use her name for something as simple as a milk allergy. I already felt stupid for pulling my husband from his football game. I still had no desire to go to the ER. I still thought we'd sit there for 6 hours and pay $200 just to find out she's fine.
I don't like wasting money.
Hubby calls and says he is on the way home to get me. I fill him in, tell him not to rush because I'm sure it's just a milk allergy like the doc said. I apologize profusely for taking him away from the game and hope the head coach isn't upset with me. I didn't want him to think I wasn't supporting my husband's coaching career… that hurt was still so fresh. (Codependency, anyone?)
I pack a bag for Addison and throw my Gap fleece on over my scrub pants and slip my feet into my hubby's camo Crocs. Shoot, if I'm gonna sit in the ER I'm gonna be comfortable. My fleece is like 12 years old and incredibly soft… the shoes are comfy. I grab a book to read, and I'm ready to go.
On the way to the ER, my pastor's wife texts me. She tells me he and another Coach just left the game and are headed to the ER, to keep her updated. I'm so embarrassed.
All this fuss. For a milk allergy. So embarrassing.
We get to the ER, sit down, start filling out the paperwork. I can just see the dollars ticking away… I look at Addy. She's fine, absolutely fine. She's asleep, of course.
I hate myself for bringing her to the ER, exposing her to germs, disrupting everyone's evening.
We take Addison into the little triage area. They check her vitals, etc. The nurse does a lot of clickety-clackety on the keyboard and scribbling on the clipboard.
Seems normal to me. I'm tired. I want to go home.
Another nurse comes in, starts getting stuff… she asks the triage nurse if she took Addy's temperature. The next thing I hear… "seriously?". My ears perk up. That didn't sound like a normal "seriously" to me. The girl says, well, I'll check it again when we get in there. She tells us to pick up Addy and follow her. I was like, what's her temperature? 97.1, I'm told. Oh. Hmmm…
That's bad? Isn't 98.6 normal? Shoot, what do I know? I just figured we were getting the royal workup - figured someone name-dropped. I'm impressed that my sis-in-law has that much pull. I'm embarrassed that either she called or my hubby name-dropped. Especially for a milk allergy.
We follow the nurse back into an ER room. What happens next is like a scene out of ER or Grey's Anatomy. This little baby cubby thingy is raced into the room, forcing hubby and I to step back from each other. Scrubs are everywhere, doing everything, calling out all these acronyms and medicines and things I don't understand. Hubby and I look at each other. I'll never forget the oh crap look in his eyes. Not quite terror. Not concern. Oh crap. Is it really this serious?
I can't take my eyes off of Addison. I felt like screaming wait wait, what the hell is going on? Will someone please tell me what's going on? Why isn't my baby crying? You're sticking her with all these needles and she's not crying. Shouldn't she be crying?
I say nothing. I've gone mute. I can't speak. I'm trying to text my sister-in-law every time I hear something. She offers to come back down there… I tell her no. I'm still embarrassed at the royal treatment we're getting. I don't understand why they keep asking me why she was so cold. Did I know she was that cold, they asked? I felt like they were accusing me of shaken baby or something.
I said she was fully clothed with a blanket around her. My hubby keeps the house pretty cool… that could be it. I was about to feed her when we got to the ER so I had started to unwrap her. Perhaps that's why she was a little chilled. I didn't understand what the big deal was. After all, 97 is one degree away from normal.
Well, either I heard the nurse wrong or she mixed the numbers when telling me. Her temperature was 91.7.
Is that bad? Yes. They have her in a baby warmer trying their best to warm her body up.
My sister-in-law arrives. I finally asked her to come translate, because I had no clue what they were saying and it was getting harder to type. They were saying so many new words so quickly I couldn't keep up. I needed a translator.
She arrived with the ER doc. Doc introduces herself… seems pretty calm. Everyone seems calm, just doing a whole lot at once. Doc says, how long has she had the cold sore on her chin?
Cold sore? Oh, you mean the blister?
Yes, the cold sore.
Almost a week. We thought it was from her pacifier… you know, moisture from her mouth and the constant sucking.. rubbed her raw. But ok, cold sore.
Hubby has cold sores, daughter has cold sores. No big deal. I guess it runs in the family. What's the big deal?
My sister-in-law mentions my skeeter bite/sores/blisters on my chest. The doc looks at me… this look like oh, is there something you're not telling me?
I wave it away… I tell her about the blisters… explain the week as quickly as I can…. but it feels like they're healing…
They do every test imaginable on Addison. I see this nurse holding her hand. Aww, so sweet. I figure maybe he can tell me what's going on. I asked why she wasn't crying… shouldn't she be crying, I said?
He nods yes, a sad look on his face. He's holding a gauze over a needle prick on her wrist. It won't clot. I wondered why he wouldn't just put a band-aid on it, but I figured he was comforting her and offering me moral support, so he just wanted to hold her hand for me.
They tell me we're moving upstairs to the Pediatric ICU, where they can run further tests and see what's going on. I still haven't been told what's wrong…. I've been told she's cold and they're trying to warm her, and that her blood won't clot.
I don't understand at all.
We're directed to a family room. It has a tiny two-person couch and like 4 or 5 chairs. My mother-in-law and her husband arrive. Her sister is watching the kids. Deedee arrives. My brother-in-law arrives…. coaches begin arriving. We fill the hall. Students are texting me. They've stopped their homecoming party and are holding a prayer vigil.
Our school has an e-newsletter… and anytime there's anything happening, that newsletter goes out. They sent out an email saying we were taking Addy to the hospital….
I look out in the hall and it looks like the entire coaching staff is out there. School board members are out there.
What a caring, loving family. I'm so glad I work at this school. What support we have.
Still don't understand what the fuss is all about.
Why are they taking so long? What's going on with her? My sister-in-law, AKA "translator", says they do a full work-up and get her settled, try to come up with a game plan and then come and communicate that plan to us. She knows the doctor working the PICU and likes her a lot.
She's good. She pays attention to every single detail. If I had to pick anyone, it would have been her.
Sure, she could've just been saying that. But I felt so much better knowing this doctor had my sister-in-law's stamp of approval.
The doctor comes in and shuts to door. I'm sitting on the tiny couch with my husband. She starts going into detail on all the tests they've run and medicines they're using on her, the antibiotics, etc., etc. Her blood isn't clotting (why in the world is THAT such a big deal?), something about liquid plasma, treating her with cold sore medication, etc.
She finished her looooong speech. I feel overwhelmed with medical jargon. I need English. For those that know me, I'm pretty direct. I don't like to sugarcoat things.. I don't like beating around the bush… I want to know what I'm up against. I want to know what to prepare for. And if you haven't figured it out by now, I have absolutely no filter. I just say what needs to be said.
So I said it. I asked it. THE question. The question that was in the back of everyone's mind.
We brace ourselves for what seems like forever. Why is she taking so long to answer?
I don't know. But it doesn't look good.
Holy Crap.
Stay tuned for Part 8: It Doesn't Look Good.
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