Maybe I need to change the name of my blog. When Life Takes You...to the hospital. Again and again. Ugh.
It's Max's turn (AGAIN!) The poor little kid can't catch a break. If it's not big brother caused injury, it's mysterious ailments the doctors are left scratching their heads about. Not good.
And that is where we are now. Max is in the hospital and the doctors are all scratching their heads. We feel so warm and fuzzy. Not. He's had fever spikes for a week now. His hands and feet are peeling. His lymph nodes in his groin and neck are big and headed for huge. He complains about pains in various places in his body. And the icing on the cake, he also has an outer-ear infection...which the doctors assure us would not cause any of the other symptoms including the fever. Good to know.
They have bandied about everything from Kawasaki syndrome to Juvenile Rheumatoid Arthritis. All are freak-out worthy.
So 4 IV stick attempts later, 5 vials of blood, a chest x-ray, other assorted poking and prodding, hospital hamburger and tater tots (eww), peeing in a bag, and a partridge in a pear tree - Max finally passed out in his Daddy's arms and I drove Tyler home for the night. If they keep Max another night, I'll swap with John tomorrow and lather, rinse, repeat.
If you are a praying sort and think it's just a bad idea for adorable nearly 3 year olds to have mystery illnesses that keep them stuck in a hospital, say a few for our little Max? Thanks.
Now it's time to crawl into bed with my clingy and seriously worried 7 year old. Poor kid. At least this time the hospital trip isn't his fault. Guilt has a bad affect on his sleeping patterns. And since he will be sleeping with me tonight, I'd rather not get hit, kicked or pee'd on all night or woken by yelling/screaming. *sigh*
Geeze, worry makes me really bitchy and sarcastic. I need to work on that.