Croup de Villian

Okay so it's not the best title. It's from 101 Dalmatians, Cruella de Ville.

My poor little Bumpo. He had an emergency trip to the ER early Saturday morning. Again, he woke up in the middle of the night because he couldn't breathe, again he scared the hell out of us, and again we thought the worst. This happened about eight months ago but that didn't make this time any easier. Sure, I was a little calmer and I knew what to expect but it still pulled at my heartstrings none the less. I swear, that kid wants to make sure we remember how precious he is, I just wish he'd stop reminding us this way.

So anyway, we got to the hospital around 5:30 in the morning and this time the nurses acted like they had no idea what to do. After a little confusion about what room to put him in and the nonsense vital signs they insisted on taking BEFORE hooking my poor boy up to oxygen we were good to go. They had the nerve to give him an IV before getting his breathing under control. Talk about aggravating the problem. . . A freaked out 4 year old who doesn't understand why he can't breathe and just wants that problem to be fixed, yet they pin his arm down, stick him with a needle and then root around in his arm for a vein. Needless to say, I wasn't a happy camper. But, I did get what I was after, shortly after my hissy fit the respiratory specialist arrived with the much needed oxygen.

There was a light at the end of the horrible nurse tunnel though. The same doctor that was on duty the first time was there this time and he remembered us. So, he knew what to expect from Bumpo and that the saline that usually helps most children, wouldn't be strong enough to get his throat to open up. So, he was able to give him the other drug (don't remember the name of it) and, just like last time it worked like a dream. My baby boy was able to breathe again. The worst part about it is that when the medication wears off it can bring the croup back, but even worse. So, we had to wait in the ER until the medicine had a chance to wear off. Now I'm not complaining, I'd be happy to sit in that hospital room for a month, or a year, or whatever it took to ensure that my little boy would be walking out of there with us. Luckily there was no relapse of the horrible croup and we were able to leave around 1:30 p.m..

This did mean that we weren't able to make it to Bob's soccer game. Luckily, he was able to go. We put in a call to the in-laws (who are mad at us once again because we haven't been sitting by the phone every time they've called and jumping every time they've needed something) and Boppa was able to take him to his game. Turns out they won 8-3 with my Bob scoring a goal right at the end of the game. I heard it was awesome! Because I know his team, and their unlikeliness to win (the coach is one of those who cares more about the kids having "fun" than winning, in other words he knows nothing about soccer) I really wish we could have been there for that game. Bob understood why we weren't there and although I'm sure he was disappointed, acted like such a grown-up. That kid still continues to amaze me every day.

Well, I need to be going. I have medicine to administer and a boy that runs at the sound of a child-proof lid. I never thought I'd be looking forward to giving medicine to my little squirm worm but I'll take this any-day over what could have happened. . . .