Wednesday, July 05, 2006

Turn About's Fair Play

Chemo stinks, in case you were wondering. Starting about five minutes after the previous post, Thomas got fussy and sick and Scott and I started to get worried and fussy ourselves. We called the on-call, but since Thomas didn't have a fever, they told us to keep an eye on him. As if what I'd been doing all day wasn't standing five inches away from him counting his breaths and squeezing his toes.*

I've said this before here, but it's hard to know anymore what's normal baby stuff and what's an emergency. Our perspective is, as you can imagine, skewed. But I trust our doctors, so we waited and tracked symptoms. I think I took his temperature forty times in two days. Nothing changed on that front, but he seemed paler and sicker at his stomach and wheezy-er.

I told myself that these things just happen with chemo, but finally, watching his little chest heave as he slept on Wednesday morning, I called in again. Same story: I want them to tell me if it's an emergency, they say "You all know him best." I guess they trust us, too.

I appreciate this, and I know they're right, but my inner six-year-old is stamping her feet and whining, "I asked you first!" Responsibilty stinks, too.

So we came in. And for once, the hospital works exactly the way I wish it always would: they treated him painlessly, and out we came with a much improved baby. We're worn out but home again. I wish every problem was that easy.

*Looking for respiratory rate and if he's "pinking up" when touched. I don't know what that's about really, but the residents do it ...?


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