Friday, September 14, 2007

update on the sick bumpo

Well, I wish this was where I could write that all is better on this end. That Bumpo
just had a severe asthma attack. That he has bounced right back to his normal self, going to school, having a good time, with this bout of illness far behind us. . . . I wish I could say that, but I can't.

Bumpo is still incredibly sick. He has gone from a severe case of asthma, with a strep-croup mixer to having all of that plus pneumonia. Yep, my little boy who has been battling this bug for over a week, is not better. In fact, no where close. I don't think I can chart one point of progress during this past week.

He still requires a breathing treatment every four hours to keep him going. His temperature is still in the 103 range with it only dropping with medication. He's still on an antibiotic (although we have switched because amoxicillin wasn't doing a bit of good). And, he's still taking an oral steroid to combat the swelling in his throat. Now, we've added a decongestant so my dear boy can at least get a little sleep at night, a vaporizer , and have clocked about a million hours of sleepless hours. All of this, with a grand total of four trips to the ER in the past week.

I am so bloody tired I can't even think straight. Currently I am camped out in my living room on one sofa with my dear boy within arms reach on the other sofa. A blaring alarm clock is stationed beside us to remind us to wake every four hours for the latest round of meds, so that we can then spend at least another half hour trying helplessly to drift back to sleep, just to do it again in a mere 3 1/2 hours.

I also get the distinct pleasure of possibly going to work tomorrow to inform my bosses that I will not be able to work for the third straight week, only to rush home and figure out just how exactly we are going to cover our ever growing mountain of medical bills caused by this, especially now with one less paycheck a week. On top of that, I also need to find a way to fund my dear Bob's birthday later on this month.

But you know, there is something I hate about this situation far worse than all the others. . . . I hate that Bumpo has to go through this. I hate that he doesn't even complain about not feeling well - - that it's become such a part of him that he basically doesn't even notice anymore. And I hate that I sound so bitter about this entire thing. Because if my son has taught me anything, it's that there is nothing to be bitter about. You take what you have, and you do what you can do to fix the problem. Being angry about the situation won't fix anything. My sweet, sweet boy who spends most of his days with a puke bucket by his side and a cool damp cloth pressed to his forehead understands this simple thing far better than I, his mother, does. Better than I probably ever will.

Now, if that's not something to think about, I don't know what is. . .