Things you NEVER want to hear

Gillian has had a fever the past couple of days, and we assumed this meant she was having her first cold. We count ourselves pretty lucky to have avoided a cold for 13+ months, and I credit good old fashioned breastmilk for that (she still gets lots of it-remember her liquid diet?). I have been home dissertating this week, and as usual, have gone a little off the deep end with focusing a huge amount of work in a very short priod of time, because honestly, who has time to work 40 hours a week (+ commute 10 hours a week), raise a baby, and write a dissertation? That is why I am working until the wee hours of the morning every night this week-because I took the week off my day job to get closer to finishing my time-suck-not-even-fun-anymore-activity-that-is-school. So, I was feeling pretty excellent about my writing progress yesterday, and as such, had found a good stopping point to leave the coffee shop and go home and feed the baby before her nap at 2. Sean and G were at the grocery store picking up a few things when I got home, and then I got a awful call, "Michelle something is really wrong with the baby...she is just staring blankly at me and isn't responding..." this after she was shaking, and now she was ashen and pale and very ill. He was afraid she was dying. When I saw her, I understood why. She was very pale, her eyes had purple circles, and she wouldn't look when you said her name. I rushed her upstairs and took her temperature- 103.5, the highest we had ever seen with her. She was shaking. She was grunting. When I tried to nurse her she bit me-several times. It was like she couldn't even remember how to nurse. She made me bleed, on both sides. I called the doctor. Sean ran back to the car. We sped to the clinic thinking we would get seen faster there than the ER. Not fast enough, but it was faster.

When your child gets sick that fast, you are helpless to some extent, and that is utterly terrifying. The doctor we saw wasn't our regular doctor, who might as well be the Brad Pitt, he is so popular, overbooked, and generally charming. I believe the guy we saw was a resident. A nice guy, but he really needs to work on his doctor-patient communication skills. These are things you should never say to your patient that he said to us yesterday:

"I would be happier if her urine dip would have been positive for a UTI, because then at least we would know the cause of the fever, which could be really serious. Or maybe it could just be a cold."

"We wouldn't know for sure if it's RSV with a blood culture, but you would know it if she has trouble breathing, or stops breathing, or something. But she probably doesn't have RSV."

"What she had was a febrile seizure. It's not that serious. Unless it lasted more than 15 minutes. Did it last more than 15 miunutes? It doesn't normally cause brain damage, so try not to worry too much."

"We'll do a blood culture to check for bacteria to make sure she doesn't have a blood infection. We should get the results in 24-48 HOURS." (to this, I sarcastically snorted, "I HOPE it's not serious").

Anyway, poor little G got a catheter to get a clean urine sample to check for a UTI, which is apparently very dangerous in infants, got her ears checked, and got a general once over. After getting a good dose of Motrin, she was looking a little more alive and was able to nurse (and I get the Rockstar Mom Award for letting her try again even though my nipples were throbbing, bruised, and hating her). The doc ordered blood work as well. Now, the blood draw was like a PTS trigger for G and I. I had to hold her little arms while two nurses put a turnicate on her to take blood, and they saw her little IV scars from the NICU and said (in the tone of a Jerry Seinfeld joke) "she's done this before". One nurse was a mess. She didn't know how the needle went into the tubes, and she dug around Gillian's arm with the needle before even feeling around for a good vein to stick. This was just awful, and she ended up having to give up on taking blood in that arm because all she was doing was bruising her. Now that Gillian was hysterical and in pain, the nurse who actually had a clue quickly tied G's other arm, found a vein, and deftly took the blood sample. Here's what I would like to share with the medical community, in case they don't know it, IF YOU ARE NEW TO PHLEBOTEMY, YOU DON'T PRACTICE TAKING BLOOD ON AN INFANT, particularly MY infant. The incompetant, or undertrained nurse should have been let loose on those other two strapping adult males in the waiting room of the lab, not on my droopy, sick, and generally uncomfortable baby girl.

The good news is that her fever broke this morning between nursing her at 5 am and when she got up at 8:30 (her sweat-drenched sleeping clothes told us that). So, what is the mystery fever all about when G has nary even a sniffle? Teething? If it's teething, I would hope she is getting 4 at once to justify a fever like that one. Anyway, she is back to her silly self today, and we are grateful that she is ok. Whew.