It's all gotta go somewhere
We celebrated Thanksgiving this year again with the Gurrs (Audrianna, Kelvin, Canyon, Oakley and cousin Yaila and Aunt Jana). The house was decorated beautifully, The Sound of Music was on the television, and the proseco flowed. Did I mention the roast duck and turkey in bacon “blanket”?
(argh, no good snaps of Aud!)
On Monday morning, Veteran’s Day, bright and early, D’s pneumonia returned dramatically. It was time to get some answers, since you can’t have pneumonia three times in six weeks, right?
(Turns out you can, if it’s a powerful virus).
So we set off for the ER with the snow-capped peaks of Mt Hood behind us, lit up from a brilliant pink sunrise. On the way, D and I held hands in back seat, and sang Kurt Elling’s version of Duke Ellington’s I Like the Sunrise, a fitting tune that’s been in rotation lately at bath time.
In the ER, we got more chest x-rays, two more albuterol treatments, and then when the pneumonia was diagnosed, it was time for a massive does of antibiotics…via an IV. I think getting the IV in could have gone a little better, but we all did our best. The staff have a technique of wrapping the child up tightly, like swaddling, so the child can’t move their arms or legs (except the free arm, which must be held down with some significant adult will). I thought this was a clever technique, except that now he associates swaddling — something we did a lot of in the past –with pain). It went on longer than it needed to, so I tried hard to keep D focused on me. When he was at his most upset, he cried out:
I want to go home in my crib and go to sleep!
I thought that was a pretty logical request and was impressed with how lucid he was about the whole ordeal. “Bunny my Honey,” his stuffed soft plush bunny, held his wrist up for most of the time that followed, because he didn’t want to move his hand around. Poor bunny!
The ER doc decided we needed to be admitted. I was surprised, since we had managed on our own for the last 2 episodes, but relieved as well, because I wanted to get some new eyes on the problem (this worked: we’re going to a pediatric pulmonologist). D did an awesome job and settled right into his “new bed” and “his room” like we were on vacation (in a way it was just like that: people bring you toys to play with, you get to watch all the movies you want, and the food arrives cooked! And you get cake! How about that? We never get cake at home!)
A second emotional difficulty was in store for us later that day, however, when the doc ordered a test that involved squirting saline up his nose and extracting some goodies. Same swaddle technique, but at least this one was much faster. Reflecting upon his stay later, D has remarked a few times: “I didn’t like those two things.” [IV and nasal fun].
On the other hand, D really liked that we spent a large chunk of time together, and he loved that I slept with him in the hospital bed all night. Although it was quite a tight squeeze and my limbs were asleep most of the time, it was re-assuring for him and a treat for me to be close with my little “baby” again.
This is the same hospital at which D was born; since we drive by it on the way to school, D often asks me to recount the day he was born. He loves to hear the story. And again we were impressed by the staff there. Each person we interacted with — and there were several, between the ER, Radiology, hospital and shift changes — was thoughtful, sensitive, reasonable, professional and warm. In a way I think I had a false sense of security because I have all the good memories of the birth. Maybe I would have felt differently if we’d gone there for something really traumatic (touching wood as I type).
Here are some video chronicles of this adventure.
By early the next morning, around the 3am vital signs check, D’s breathing had returned to normal. Hooray, this was the end of this (mis)adventure. Although the day dawned cold, wet and cloudy, there was a bright sunrise in our little block of heaven.
When the heavy blue curtain of the night
Is raised up high clear out of sight
Then I like the sunrise, so heavenly to see
I like the sunrise, the music in every sunrise
Makes a space inside the skies, for setting free.
We got to spend last week with Grandpa Don and Grandma Lori, and what fun we had! Thank you so much for spending your precious vacation days with us.
Since Don has become quite the visual artist, I’ll post his exceptional shots here and just get out of the way with the words. Way to go, Don! Keep it up and we will all be able to retire from your royalties!
Rhanda is our new caregiver, who comes over Tuesday and Thursdays (non-school days). We got to know Rhanda from “Aunt” Audrianna, whose 2 boys have been enjoying summer days with Rhanda…and now she’s free to help us out. We are so amazed by Rhanda, who used to run her own daycare: she’s certified for first aid and CPR, has a food handler’s card, and several other certifications, and is very conscientious. She is also loving, thoughtful and arrives with ideas of enriching activities for the two of them to do.
But most important of all, D loves her. The other night we were getting ready for bed and D said, “Rhanda’s the best!” I said: “I know! Aren’t we lucky?” “Yes!”
We’re so glad we found you, Rhanda!
Here is Rhanda’s log of their day last Thursday.
Dashiell has now completed his first full week of school, and already he is a changed little man–speaking in long complicated sentences, braving water, sand, and all physical obstacles, and a lot more role playing.
Often at bedtime, he calls me back for…something. Of course he is delaying going to sleep but he also needs some help with transitions–always has. So often I’ll go back in and give him a glass of water or tell him a story. Lately I’ve been pretending it’s Bear who’s telling the story, and I often borrow snippets of his well-known adventures in the Karma Wilson books. “My” stories, spoken as Bear, often have a twist, in which Dashiell plays a role in these stories. In them, they have skiied together, braved rain storms, and eaten fish right out of the stream. The other day D told me he knew Bear was “not a real bear.” But then last night at bedtime (#2 visit), he told me that he had forgotten to tuck Bear in (Bear sleeps on a crib mattress on the floor in his room). So I got him out of the crib and he tucked Bear in, and then pretended Bear had been crying and calling out to him (as D often calls out in the early mornings — we are working hard on limiting “calling out” unless “something is really really really wrong”). He said to Bear: “I’m so sorry, Bear, I’m so so sorry!” And he rubbed Bear on the back and continued, “I’m right here, in the crib next to you, close by, Bear. I’m so so sorry I didn’t hear you call out right away. Don’t call out in the night, ok, Bear? I’m going to leave the door open. I love you.”
Earlier that same night, when I was putting him to bed the first time, we did our “say who loves me” routine, where I list all the people who love him (it’s a long list so it takes quite awhile!). This list evolves to include people we meet or new friends at school. I usually include the teachers and friends from the old school, which he enjoys remembering, since he was so close with them. Last night he said, “name the other lady.” And so I named lots of other teachers from other classrooms and names of teachers who often substituted while the core teachers were on break. I must have named 4 or 5 like that. And then I thought of one lady whose name I couldn’t remember, and I said, “Oh, do you mean the lady with the short hair and the red cheeks?” And he said “Yes!” and I said, “I can’t remember her name” to which he replied, “I can’t remember too.” And then he added: “Tomorrow, after gymnastics, and after my nap, let’s go to Goddard and see the lady with the short hair, okay, Mommy?”
(photo by Don Weiss. Don, I’ve named this one Boy Indigo).
This shot of Dashiell made the front page of the weekly newsletter for his class.
When D saw the first picture he said, “that’s me.” That’s Jeff!
Thanks Grandpa Don for this gem.
© 2024 MaidaData
Theme by Anders Noren — Up ↑