The $50 Giraffe

I was SO thinking that our trip to the pediatrician's office on Thursday would result in a check of Zoey's ears, and either a prescription for an antibiotic for an ear infection OR the reassurance that her ears are fine and we can just wait out the bug that is causing her temperature to run so high.

Instead, what we found out, after a return visit on Friday, is that Zoey has a urinary tract infection which is uncommon is children in her age group and may mean there is something wrong with her kidneys.

On Thursday, Zoey was feeling so sick with a high fever, which I posted about earlier. Her doctor warned me that she was suspicious of a UTI, because her fever was so high with NO other symptoms (i.e. ear infection, runny nose, diarrhea). She put the bug in my ear that she may need to insert a catheter to obtain a urine sample...but I just couldn't. I took her home in the hopes that her fever would break that night and the problem would be solved.

Friday morning, I went to work because I had to, Bryan went to school, and Zoey stayed home with the babysitter. At 9:00 the babysitter called to tell me that Zoey had just thrown up. I thought this was almost good news--we have a winner, folks! It's a GI bug! Bryan and I both came home at noon to take her back to the pediatrician, where I almost proudly told her that yes, Zoey's fever was still sky-high, BUT she had been vomiting! She asked if there had been any diarrhea. I said no. She said this made her think even MORE that it might be a UTI, because this illness will often cause belly pain that is so bad, kids will just vomit. She said that if it was a GI bug, she'd really expect to see some diarrhea. She went on to say that a UTI left untreated can cause damage to kidneys, and that in a child Zoey's age, we need to investigate WHY she had it in the first place, because there might be something wrong with her kidneys anyway, something that sounded serious but which I simply could not process at the time because I was holding my feverish child and trying to reconcile in my mind that we would have to subject her to a catheter.

We went to the pediatric floor of the hospital where I work. They did the catheter. It was the worst thing ever for all three of us. Bryan cried, Zoey was traumatized (as if she didn't feel shitty enough as it is), and I felt horrible for everyone.

The doctor called two hours later to say yes, it was a UTI. I could go to the pharmacy to pick up her antibiotics. Bryan left to go out of town for 24 hours.

I went to Walgreens, where I was informed that they had no prescription for my daughter. Feeling my resolve weakening and kind of like I wanted to rip someone's face off, I had to call the answering service at the doctor's office (which was, of course, closed) and inform someone--I don't even know who--that I would NOT be leaving Walgreens without a prescription for antibiotics. 30 minutes later, we had everything sorted out and I went home.

First dose of antibiotics in, I felt like Zoey would be on the mend soon and we could sort out what to do next.

And then this morning happened.

Zoey and I got up at 7 a.m. She was on fire....again. With a temperature of 102.7, I knew we had to get those antibiotics in her system. Unfortunately, she had gotten wise to all the syringes of strange tasting liquids that had plagued her the past several days, and put up a valiant fight in swallowing it all down.

And then she projectile-vomited the entire dose, and a glass of milk, all over me.

One bath and many tears later, we were back on the couch to try again. This time I tried to distract her with Mr. Rogers, and squirt a little medicine in her mouth at a time, but after 30 minutes it all came back up again. I was starting to run out of clean t-shirts for both of us. I was also starting to panic.

She wouldn't eat. She wouldn't drink. She wouldn't stop throwing up. And then--this is the part that kills me--when I tried to call the pediatrican's office, the answering service wasn't working, and there was no way to get in touch with a doctor who could help me.

One hour later we were in the ER.

I had called my friend Kendra in tears (after calling my mother, also while crying, but she's too far away to help) and she thankfully came along to help. Once there, Zoey was evaluated and given some medicine for nausea, in the hopes she would then be able to keep something down. She felt like she was on fire, and after a humiliating rectal-thermometer incident, her fever was still close to 103 degrees. Every time one of the very kind nurses or the doctor walked in to the room, Zoey started to scream. (To be fair, if a nurse had just stuck a thermometer up my tushy, I might not want to see her again, either.) She also got a shot of antibiotics, which was a relief to me and another horrifying part of the ordeal for Zoey...but at least I knew she was getting the medicine she needed, which would hopefully start to bring her fever down again. By this time, Jennifer (our nurse) was--in Zoey's eyes--subjecting her to something terrible each time she walked in the room. Her saving grace was the small stuffed giraffe she brought in right before she tried to get Zoey to gag down some Tylenol. Zoey grabbed the giraffe, curled up with it on my lap, and went to sleep.

I felt awful as I watched her sleep in my lap. Her cheeks were bright red, I had stripped her down to her diaper, she smelled like vomit (and I did, too), and she looked small and defenseless as she clutched her giraffe.

The doctor came in to tell me that she'd probably keep Zoey overnight if we couldn't get her fever down and couldn't get her to take in any fluids. At that point, I was almost relieved to hear her say that. I was exhausted and not sure I could handle any more barfing and high fevers while we were at home.

But Zoey rallied and, after a couple hours, kept some ibuprofen down and started asking for crackers and water. I've never been so happy to see her eat and drink in all my life.

The last thing the hospital staff did before we left was come in to the room to collect our $50 co-pay. Then we left with more nausea medicine, a long list of discharge instructions, and a relatively happy kid carrying--as Kendra pointed out--a $50 stuffed animal.

We made it home safe and sound and Zoey is now napping downstairs in our bed. Bryan will be home soon. I am certain that I will, at some point, shower and wash the vomit smell from my body. Zoey will, with any luck, be feeling better VERY soon.