All Done

For the last week Adam has been pretty sick with another round of Bronchitis. He got sick last Sunday, fought it for a couple days, and then it moved into his chest so we went to the pediatrician, who told me I had a good ear and was smart to bring him in.

Because it was a last minute appointment on a Friday, we saw a different pediatrician than normal and for the first time I was surprised to see him cry and be nervous around a doctor. She checked him out, told us to wait there for a breathing treatment and then she'll come back to check his lungs again. The second she left the room, Adam looked at me, panicked, and tried to yank me out of the chair. His eyes said, "She's gone, now's our chance, let's get out of here, PLEASE!" His mouth said, "ALL DONE! ALL DONE!" as he pulled with all his might and cried desperately. The nurse came in with the nebulizer and he lost it, collapsing in a heap on the tile floor. My heart broke.

The yelling that followed told the entire practice, every nurse, every patient waiting in the back, and every person in the waiting room just how mad he was that he had to have a breathing treatment again (I had given him two the day before, suspecting that we were again on this path). The second the nebulizer was off, he stopped crying... but he refused to smile at anyone until later that evening.

When Shannon asked what the verdict was, my response was akin to: "Steriods. Antibiotics. Breathing Treatments. You know, the usual." We've been here before, apparently.

The next day I pulled out the mask for his second breathing treatment that day, and he took one look at me, waved his hands in the air and said, "all done!" in a sing-songy voice. Then he ran out of the room (and he's getting to be a pretty fast runner). I feel for the guy... the last few breathing treatments have required both Shannon and I to entertain him/contain him/hold him still. Yesterday, we didn't have the heart to make him sit for all 4 that we were told to do.

And on top of that misery, because he doesn't feel good, he's got a serious case of "need to be with mama." If I leave the room he cries like someone is trying to murder him. When he's sick he wants Mac & Cheese and Milk, and that's it, so that's what he gets. We've been watching a lot of Little Einsteins, and lot of Bolt, and some Toy Story... and doing a lot of consoling him and desperately trying to calm him down. You know it's bad when he doesn't even want to take a bath (which is usually one of his favorite things).

He had gone a full 5 months without getting sick, but I think he's reaching the age of understanding just how bad he really feels and knowing how to voice it.

Last night's and this morning's breathing treatments weren't too painful, but while he's improved slightly I think we're due for another trip to the pediatrician, another round of stronger antibiotics and more breathing treatments.

Lesson Learned #18: When a kid is sick, Mom has to figure out how to accomplish every basic task with an unhappy toddler on her hip.

Lesson Learned #19: When the only person who can fix it is Mom, the pressure is on for Mom to figure out how to fix it.