Wednesday, March 14, 2007
Reed has been sick since Saturday with a fever and a runny nose, and on Monday I spoke to the nurse at his doctor's office twice. Both times she said that his 102.7 degree fever wasn't any reason for him to come in, as well as the fact that he wasn't eating, as well as the fact that he wasn't drinking as much as he usually does.
As the afternoon wore on, his fever stopped responding to the Tylenol, and he stopped drinking altogether, and he stopped responding to us when we talked to him. It took THREE PHONECALLS to the after hours service and an hour-and-a-half later they finally called back and said we should PROBABLY take him to the emergency room.
When we left the house his temperature was 103.7. When we got the emercency room it was 105. They gave him some Motrin, took a chest x-ray and told us it was just a viral infection and sent us home (after only five hours).
We took him to his regular doctor and he did more tests and said that it is a viral infection. The exciting part is that now I have it, so Reed and I are both writhing about the house in perpetual pain, high fevers and snot rockets to boot. This is the sickest I've ever been, the absolute worst that I've ever felt, and I feel so awful that my baby has to be feeling the same thing that I'm feeling. There were moments on the car ride to the emergency room when I feared that something really bad might happend to him, and it made me feel like my life was over, that I was a total failure and nothing else I had ever done mattered.
But then I got the anger, so it's okay now.
The phlegm icing on this snotty cake is that we currently don't have health insurance. Mine lapsed at the end of February, and Jason's won't pick up until he's worked 800 hours. So we get the added joy of owing a hundred million dollars to the emergency room.
I'm just glad that he's okay and that he's recovering. Now if I can just get better, all will be right with the world again.