Here’s the ultimate test of the value of the switch to wordpress. I am trying a quick blog to update everyone everywhere about what’s going on.
So, quick version.. About 3 weeks ago Patrick had a really bad few days. His stomach was upset. He had a hard time concentrating. He was in a BAD mood and into everything. It went on long enough that even though his labwork didn’t show any signs of trouble, I requested a set of blood cultures and skipped a nap to drive all the way to the hospital to get them done.
And then, that night, as I was getting Patrick ready for bed, I checked his temperature and discovered he had a fever. We called his doctor and came up to the hospital.
We were here 6 days, our longest stay in over a year, because it took forever to get the infection to respond to the treatment. (For various reasons I may or may not expound on later.) And because it took an extra long time to get the right antibiotic dose. It was a frustrating stay because he never got horribly sick, but he had staph epi in his line and it’s notoriously hard to clear. And the longer it took to clear, the more the doctors wanted to try a different approach (understandably.)
And, well, because the night shift just couldn’t manage to help him sleep through the night. But that’s a gripe for another day.
I’m afraid I jinxed us. One of the dramatic changes the doctors wanted to do to be sure to clear the infection was to switch from using ethanol to using vancomycin, a targeted antibiotic, to protect the line.
I raised more than a little bit of a stink. I insisted that we still use ethanol at least 4 hours a day. I made the attending come discuss it with me. And I won.
But i felt guilty. And when we went home, I did my best to follow doctors orders and put a heavy preference on vanco locks over ethanol.
Fastforward to today. For the 2 weeks since bringing Patrick home, I’ve been giving antibiotics every 8 hours.. including a dose at midnight. Tonight was supposed to be our last night.
Patrick’s cousins are in town and we’ve been having a grand family party. Aquarium trip. Hiking in the mountains. And today they rented a bounce house.
Patrick and I were very excited about today. Only one matter of business to take care of. A visit to his physical therapist. We have been waiting for MONTHS for a new DAFO (brace) for his foot to help with his worsening muscle tightness. And, Patrick has been dying to show his therapist how he’s learned to ride a tricycle.
Well – we got to the therapy office. And we got in the elevator. And Patrick’s breathing got a little shallow. And he gave a little shiver. And a hundred memories rushed back into my mind and I knew something was wrong. I remembered what a bad and out of sorts day he had yesterday, how his tummy was upset, how he had a hard time concentrating and kept getting into trouble.
So the elevator doors opened and I didn’t get off. Pushed the down button and went straight to the family clinic on the first floor. And I asked for a thermometer.
A nurse came out and checked and at first his temp was normal, but she rechecked and got 99.0. In his low ear.
So, we hopped in the elevator and went back upstairs to cancel our appointment.
Patrick was distraught. He didn’t want to be sick. He wanted to see Miss Holly.
Well, Miss Holly came out and I explained what was happening and she explained that the brace company had rejected the cast we’d sent as a model for his foot and asked her to recast. If we missed this appointment, it would be another month without a brace.
So – we made a deal. I’d call the hospital, she’d cast his foot to get a mold for the brace. Patrick would, well, try to cry more quietly.
By the time we left the therapy office, Patrick was sold on going to the hospital. So, we hurried home. Checked a temp. 101.8 this time. 15 minutes later. I grabbed the transplant go bag because I didn’t want to waste time packing, gave him some tylenol, and we booked it up to the ER.
The tylenol worked. Mostly. His fever was the same when we arrived.
And so, here we are. We are antibiotics to cover all the major bacteria, and an antifungal. I threw a bit of a momma bear tantrum when they tried to tell me they didn’t think we needed the antibiotic that kills his recurring kleibsiella bacteria.
He doesn’t feel well. He is tired. He only napped for 10 minutes. We have tried going for walks and in the end, he just prefers to lay in the bed.
And so, here we are. Hoping culture results are fast and clear. Hoping we are giving him the right drugs. Wondering how we’re going to make tomorrow bearable.
Just like every summer.
Mid-July rolls around and I start to get nervous. And I hate that we are here because I don’t want to be superstitious about certain months. But for some reason, summers are always hard for Patrick.
And so, I’m quite discouraged tonight. I am sad to be missing out on my first-of-the season tomatoes that I harvested this week and the green beans on my plants waiting for harvest and the great big yummy yellow zucchini sitting in the fridge. I hate that Patrick and I had finally hit our stride again, finally had a routine again, finally were catching up on the chores again. (Does anyone want to iron a month’s worth of dress shirts?)… And now we are starting over all over again.
But at least it is 10:30 and I can go to sleep because tonight giving the antibiotics on time is someone else’s responsibility.