The cough

What a week. Julia had her first hospital admittance since we came home from the NICU. It all started with a little cough……

2a Monday: I heard Julia cough a few times. Nothing severe. It was like a tickle in her throat that she cleared.

5a: I’m getting up for work and hear her cough again and I thought I heard congestion. I gave her a breathing treatment. I didn’t think she needed one but it always seemed to help a cough and loosen congestion. If nothing else, she’d stay asleep.

9a: Darrin gets her up and sees that she needs a breathing treatment.

11a: Darrin calls me at work saying Julia was ok but he didn’t think she should go 2 more hours w/o a breathing treatment. She wasn’t “bad” but looked a little uncomfortable. I call Tiny Tots and they say to give her another breathing treatment and bring her in.

1p: Darrin gets to Tiny Tots and the NP takes one look at Julia and says “She needs a breathing treatment and call 911 for a transport to Children’s Medical Center.” I’m sure Darrin almost fainted.

1:30p: They arrive at Children’s where Darrin is rushed by about 10 people shouting out questions while getting an IV and breathing treatments started on Julia.

1:30p: I think I arrived just as they finished setting up Julia. I walked in and oh my Lord – our poor baby! She was lifeless, pale, and was breathing like she’d just run 100 miles.

1:30p – 9p: Breathing treatment after breathing treatment along with oral steroids. I believe they gave her between 6-8 treatments, not including two one-hour long breathing treatments. During that time, they could only get her sats to the mid-80’s and that was during a breathing treatment. They ran blood gas tests which slowly started improving. At one point the medical staff told us that Julia was too unstable to move anywhere – even to ICU. I had forgotten about doctors telling you best and worst case scenarios so when the doctor mentioned intubating Julia, Darrin and I both had tears. Julia still looked horrible but it was obvious she was all hyped up on the steroids because she was saying hi and bye to everyone.

12a Tues: Julia was finally moved into her room where they continued giving her breathing treatments every two hours. After she fell asleep, her sats dropped into the 87-88 range and she couldn’t keep them up. The nurse put Julia on a cannula with 1 liter of oxygen.

8a: The doctor comes in to talk to us about what’s going on. All of Julia’s tests came back negative. No RSV. No flu. No pneumonia. Nothing had grown in the cultures yet. Since there was nothing else to go on, they categorized the episode as “asthma related.” By now, Julia’s behavior is a dead give-a-way that she’s wired on steroids. Even though she still looks gravely ill, she’s Miss Chatty Cathy. Hi lady. Bye lady. Hi. Bye. Hi man. Hi window. Daddy’s keys. Mommy’s purse. Mommy hold (hold her breathing treatment mask). Tickle piggies (tickle her toes). Carmex, please (chapstick). Telletubbies, please (a stupid show she likes). She’s taken off the cannula.

11a: I go home to take a shower. Julia is still going strong.

3p: I get back so Darrin could run home. He couldn’t get out of there fast enough and it didn’t take me long to figure out why. Julia had moved into a “hateful” phase of the steroids high. She would say “Carmex. Carmex. CARMEX! CARMEX! CARMEX! I’d hand it to her and she’d play with the tube for all of 30 seconds. Then she’d look right at me and throw it on the floor only to yell CARMEX again. If I didn’t sit right next to her bed she would scream. God forbid I move to a so-called sofa three feet from her. That wasn’t going to work for Julia. She finds a new way to entertain herself….by pulling the monitors off of her chest and rolling around so the wires get tangled around her legs. The doctor cuts the breathing treatments to every three hours. Oral steroids are still being given.

10p or so: Breathing treatments cut to every four hours. Darrin and I make an attempt at sleeping on the sofa. It extends but it’s still shorter and narrower than a twin bed. Our only option was sleeping with our heads at opposite ends. Under normal circumstances I would refuse to sleep with Darrin’s feet in my face but at that point, I was willing to risk waking up with a toe in my nostril. Julia transitioned into a “whiny” phase of the steroid high.

Wed 8a: Breathing treatments moved to every six hours. IV and wires unhooked. Julia gets out of bed for the first time in 1 ½ days. We take her for a wagon ride around the hospital. When we get back to her room and she refuses to get out and I don’t blame her. There’s been talk about us going home so I begin to lobby for a pulse ox. I pleaded my case with anyone and everyone but no luck.

4p: Given a final diagnosis of “reactive airway disease.” Since asthma is a chronic condition, Julia can’t be diagnosed as asthmatic yet. We’ll have to wait and see if/when it happens again. It could turn into a severe case of asthma or something seasonal or nothing at all. Who knows?