Notes From the Hospital

Every January, around my birthday, we usually take a weekend away in Pittsburgh and indulge in a fine luxury hotel and shop the clearance sales until the van won't hold any more loot. (And we don't even have the kids along!) This year we did not, for a few reasons. It would have truly been nice to get away and spend the night elsewhere, away from dog hair and feeding animals in the cold and housework. Fate has quite a sense of humor. I don't consider a night in a hospital bed an equal substitute.

It's amazing how perspective changes things. My first thought when we were snuggled in the narrow bed with side rails was that this child of mine has grown since we slept together in a hospital bed last. That would have been at his birth. It's amazing what nearly 5 years will do. But I cannot complain too much about the sleeping conditions as I totally made that choice. We were given a room with a crib AND a bed. He wanted nothing to do with the crib so my plan was to put him to sleep in my bed and transfer him. (We do it every night at home, so why not at the hospital?) But as I was laying there looking at that crib I decided against it.

The crib was a cage. A huge metal cage on wheels. And I love it. I was mentally trying to disassemble it and wondered how much of it I could stuff in my purse and smuggle out. The boy won't sleep at home unless I'm sitting with him. He needs the confines of a cage with a lid on it. But he didn't sleep in that wonderful thing because it sat up off the floor about 4'. And the one whole side dropped down and the mattress was exposed with no side rail. A 4' drop from bed isn't something that would cause a spontaneous miraculous healing, so the option would be to put the rail up. But with his cords and hoses I just didn't see any way to do that comfortably for him. So I chose to sleep in bed with him, ever mindful of his tubing. The lack of sleep on my part I cannot complain about. I am glad, however, that I was awake enough to know that Micah slept most of the night despite his connections to monitors.

The doctor ordered clear liquids for Micah. The kid is more stubborn than any goat or mule I've ever encountered. If he doesn't want to do something, it just doesn't happen. Not only was he not drinking, he certainly wasn't going to drink from a cup the hospital offered. That would be condoning what they're doing to him. He wouldn't even drink juice that they brought and I poured into his cup as he watched. He knew where that juice came from. And for good measure he wouldn't even take his cup from home with home juice in it because they want him to drink, and by golly there's gotta be a reason. Well, he'll show them who's going to win this battle. He won't drink anything, ever! Who wins now?! The nursing staff looked at us like we were completely insane when we asked for a medicine dropper to shoot juice down his throat with. Desperate kids call for desperate measures.

And then, as any parent, you get to the point where you say "fine, you win. Tell me what you want and I'll move heaven and earth to get it for you if only you'll eat or drink something!" After pulling him from his IV (to see if he'd actually collapse or continue to thrive) I was desperate for any sign of cooperation so that we could go home. We snapped off and on through the morning. (A combination of snoozing and napping, and snap is what your neck does when the door suddenly opens and a nurse walks in just as you doze off.) By late morning he was bored out of his skull so I asked if we could walk the halls. Oh, glory be! There's a lounge just down the hall and they have an entertaining vending machine. Nothing like watching the candy channel. And then my tired brain wrapped itself around a preposterous idea. I'll bet he'd eat candy. And if he did he might get thirsty enough to drink something. I felt like a thief as we sneaked down the hall trying to conceal our M&M's from nursing staff eyeballs, then locked ourselves in our room and indulged in a chocolate frenzy. He ate! And he requested a drink! It was only a sip, but it was a drink nonetheless. And he ate. Chocolate doesn't exactly fit into the clear liquid diet, but my theory is that anything is better than nothing. His doctor had to concur as we were talking during the morning rounds. (We were talking about applesauce at the time. I'm not sure she would have condoned candy.) But I know my kid. One food will make him realize that he is hungry, and that will lead to more food. So I ordered him a lunch tray and he ate applesauce and Cheerios. No drinking went on, but I had him eating strange food in a strange place when he was well aware that the nursing staff wanted nothing less from him. I won. Mama triumphs again! And if he was doing this, I knew beyond a shadow of a doubt that he'd drink at home. And he did. He drank two bottles. Yes, I know he's almost 5 years old. Yes, we took them a few years back and only save them for medicating purposes only. But sometimes a battle won is at any cost. I consider this a victory on my part, not a setback.

But the bottle thing backfired. It's now used only to get him to drink something in a pinch. He no longer will accept it if there's medicine in his drink. He knows before seeing or tasting it. I think he smells the deception on me.

I have no idea how on earth I managed to avoid getting sick. But at this point I may not get sick at all. What with all the antibiotics and steriods being spit in my face a few times a day, I'm ingesting enough to ward off anything. And here's a thought that I just grasped this morning after a good night's sleep. Remember how I requested more meds than his actual prescription so that I had enough to actually dose him with when he shared it with me? And remember how the doctor so quickly complied? (She actually laughed and had that "I know what you mean" look in her eye.) I'm now wondering what on earth she was thinking. I asked for more steriods. The pharmacy had a slightly large episode over this but had no choice but to do as the doctor ordered. I guess I've got that Good Girl image stamped all over me.