Croup hug

My wife was miles away in Virginia, on her way to a week-long conference, when their SUV broke down.  I was shaking a bit as I said, "The pediatrician told me to take Ben to the ER."  

 

I tried to anticipate her response before I even dialed, but what I got back, wasn't it.  

 

"It'll be OK, just breathe.  You have to be strong and get him there safely.  You can do this."  
 

She was dead-on, of course, I knew I had to be cool and calm, but it was harder then I ever thought.  She'd done it, mastered being a mom to a toddler already.  She was the cool headed general, even far from the battlefield.

Honesty time - 

I have a habit of stacking a cord of bad wood before good, even though it doesn't do me or anyone else any good.  In this case:  wife is gone, first day me and the kid are alone, it snowed, driveway isn't shoveled all the way, so the list grew.  

 

After a call to my mom and dad, I made sure the little guy was comfy, resting on the sofa, watching a video before I grabbed my hat and coat and went out to shovel.  I came back in every 5-8 minutes to check on him, then back out.  This combination of activities felt like some new sport, aka torture to a guy who doesn't play those sports in my first blog post anymore.  

 

Finally had a clear enough path to get out and we were on our way over a mix of road conditions, some of the "white knuckle variety". My folks would meet me at the ER, an hour drive for them, my amazing bonus support staff.  

 

Several nurses, a doctor and a resident saw Ben.  All were wonderful, all legitimately concerned.  The questions were repeated several times, my answers with them, but I didn't mind, maybe I forgot something in between.  Ben was tired and fell asleep on me as I squatted next to the hospital bed.  My mom said I should sit down in the chair next to the bed, but I was where I needed to be for him and me.  The diagnosis was what had been expected from the first phone call into the pediatrician's office, it was Croup.      

 

We got home around midnight.  Ben slept the whole way.  Road crews had been out, so it was a different experience driving back; eerily paralleling my mindset during our travels: scary going, calmer coming home.  I laid him down in his bed after getting him into his pajamas, his eyes drearily knowing what was going on, not quite asleep but not awake.  Just as I puled the covers over him he shot up, reaching up for me.  

Well, I had stuff I had to do: turn lights off, get myself ready for bed, but easy to do with kid-in-arms.  So I took him downstairs where he pointed to the kitchen, then to the refrigerator, then to the container of jello.  Yep, he'll be OK.  I put him on the sofa, his "den of comfort" that day, where he requested "Thomas".  

All day he wanted nothing more then to be held, to wallow on me and feel comforted.  I felt bad for him but lucky for myself to have such a sweet kid who needed me.  He was reminding me that he was still a delicate newcomer to this world, who knew nothing about how to explain that he wasn't feeling right.  His body language and his barely audible, raspy words were more than enough to amp up the vigilance over and care for him.  

 

More back story:

Ben hadn't been feeling right since the day before, with this fact really showing itself that night with a horrible cough that woke us up.  The next day Ben didn't show too many signs of feeling miserable at first, but I called the pediatrician's on-call service anyway to confirm my thoughts, or maybe deny them, on what Ben had and what I could do.  Google and Internet searched still cannot be the calming voice of a nurse or mom or wife saying even the smallest bit of "its OK".

As the day went on Ben's breathing just didn't sound right, he didn't want to eat anymore and he was very lethargic.  So by early evening, I made another call to the pediatrician's.  This time the nurse could hear his breathing over the phone and said to get him into a steamy bathroom now to help get his airways opened up more, she'd check back in 30 minutes.  I did this and the nurse still didn't like what she heard.  She had the doctor call me, who had the same thought as the nurse, telling me to take him to the ER.