Last Thursday, Jonah woke up with a fever. He was pretty warm, but since some of his cousins had been sick with a fever, I didn't think too much about it since I'd almost been expecting it. We gave him some medicine, which brought the fever down and perked him up.
The next day, he had fever again, but not as high, so we just gave him medicine as needed. By Saturday though, he was still hot and pretty fussy and just not himself. Then on Sunday morning, he had a rash on his stomach. We weren't overly concerned (well, I wasn't; his father is pretty anxious by nature, so he was a little worked up), because we were pretty sure by now he had Rosiola, and the rash is the last stage. But we kept him with us on Sunday (instead of putting him in the nursery) and had a low key day at home after church. On and off, he was himself, but on the whole, we could tell he was still sick.
The on Monday morning his rash was worse and he was very lethargic and not his cheerful self at all. Even I was concered at this point, so we made an appointment to see the doctor that morning. Once there, she felt like his color was not good and that his lethargy was alarming. He also threw up pretty violently while in the doctor's office. She asked me where my husband worked, if it was close. By this time, I'm getting pretty worried. The doctor said I should take Jonah straight to the ER and have my husband meet me there.
You better believe I threw Ruthie and Jonah back in the car and raced to Memorial, in tears. Our Jonah man! Ian was able to meet me there (thank goodness for a bike, a job close to the hospital and an understanding principal) and Sarah also met us there to take Ruthie home to her house. Poor baby, I don't think I said two words to her except for "We have to be brave now" from the time we left the doctor's office to the when Sarah collected her. Thank goodness she won't remember that.
The ER staff expedited looking at Jonah and getting us into a room. Once in the room, the ER doctor was also concerned about his coloring and his lethargy, so he decided to admit us and begin testing. During all this, Ian and I were pretty upset, especially seeing all the tests they did to Jonah. I will never be able to forget his little hands strapped down above his head while they did a chest X-ray, or my husband's tears as he held down Jonah's legs while they filled vile after vile of his blood. It was awful. AWFUL. And it was terrifying some of the things the doctor was testing for, like bacterial meningitis, which is not treatable. What!?! How do you even begin to process that news?
It was very painful waiting and wondering. We were just praying and holding Jonah, while he slept on our laps. Mary brought us lunch and we felt very prayed for and taken care of. Fortunately, the tests began coming back in pretty quickly, with everything negative. However, the doctor still wanted to admit Jonah, based on his appearance. So they started an IV of fluids and anti-biotics and moved us to a room on the pediatric wing.
I am telling you, I do not know how parents of terminally/chronically ill children do it. Life in the hospital is so hard and watching your child suffer is heart breaking. Fortunately, within a few hours Jonah began to improve. One of the nurses even coaxed a smile out of him. In the middle of the night we began to see his rash get better and his fever go away. Hallelujah!
We still had little hope of leaving the next day, as they had told us they wanted to watch him for 48 hours. By now, my parents were taking care of Ruthie at our house, so we knew she was fine. But once we saw our little man start to be himself again we were super anxious to get him home. The IV on his arm was the size of a child's baseball mitt, with a board tapped to his arm to keep it straight and a bunch of gauze around that. And in spite of being so tired, it was hard for him to sleep with all the hospital interruptions. We asked in the morning if we could possibly go home that day but they told us no.
But then, inexplicably, the doctor came back in a few hours and said we could take him home, if we agreed to take him to the doctor the next day. Hooray! We were so excited. We had to wait a few more hours, to pass the 24 hour mark of all his tests (they were seeing what kind of cultures were growing). Everything continued to be negative for a bacteria, meaning he just had a really bad viral infection.
Here he is, playing on the mat we asked for (no way were we letting him down on the hospital floor and he's just too active to be in a bed all the time!). And the other one is of him in the bed. You can see the IV on his right hand (not connected in the one where he's on the mat, obviously). We had to cut his jammies to get them on. Obviously, in these he's starting to feel more himself. I don't have any pictures from when he was really sick because, clearly, my mind was on other things.
So, they let us go home and we were greeted with stew in the crock pot from my mom and a daughter who laughed with joy when she saw her brother. Today I took Jonah back to the doctor, as promised, and he received rave reviews from his pediatrician. It's truly amazing how rapidly they recover.
Whew! What a roller coaster of a few days. I am so thankful to be home, SO thankful Jonah is on the mend and also so grateful for a family who steps in at a moment's notice to help us. We are so loved and supported.
(Please forgive any typos - I don't have the emotional energy to re-read this post.)
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