As you may know by now, Daphne is spending the night in the hospital. She was struck by another GI virus last night, started throwing up at 2am and by 4am it was clear to me that we would be visiting the ER. She wasn’t keeping down sips of Pedialyte and continued to dry heave even after her stomach was empty.
I paged the pediatrician three times. She was so tired she slept through her pager. Finally, at almost 6am I reached her and she told me to just head in to the ER. Note to self: when you think D needs to be in the hospital, just take her and let the Dr. know. Lesson learned.
She threw up 2 more times in the car but managed to chit-chat all the way into the City, which was extremely comforting to me. “is dark, Mommy?” “Lucy go doctor too?” We were ushered in fairly quickly at the ER, in typical hospital hurry up and wait. Renal was paged, they asked for labs, urine sample and an IV. It was hours before the nurse started the IV. In the meantime, D threw up some more. A young nurse made the first attempt at a vein, with a more senior nurse’s guidance. After a whole lot of screaming and tears, and not a drop of blood, I kindly suggested the older nurse just do it herself, which she did in 10 seconds. I am all for teaching hospitals but I think one should get one try at doing an IV on a dehydrated, miserable 2-year-old.
After a dose of Zofran and the first round of fluids, she looked much better. The nurse asked if she should just bag her for some urine, since she was sleeping comfortably. I told her absolutely not, we would wait until she was hydrated and I would get her a sample in a cup. The nurses were totally suspicious but let me give it a shot. D peed on that cup like a superstar, as if it were the most natural thing in the world. Maybe she remembered the catheter from her NICU days?
After a few hours, when I asked how much longer we had to keep the IV, the nurse told me they had located a room upstairs for us. Nobody had told me D was going to be admitted yet. The renal Fellow came by and told me labs showed D was dehydrated, so they wanted to keep her overnight for IV fluids. At that point, I had been awake for 13 hours and had no food or water (or coffee, most importantly). In my sad and extensive experience in this hospital, I have learned that “your room is almost ready” means “you are going to wait in triage another few hours.” I was lucky, we waited just two hours after the nurse said all they had to do was place a crib in the room.
Zev arrived just as we settled in the room. Nurses and doctors came and asked all the same questions (what color was her vomit? When was the last time she pooped? Does she have any health problems? Ha! Pull up a chair). Child Life brought a bucket with Mr. Potato Head and its various body parts, which delighted D.
Eventually I was convinced to go home for a hot shower, a 15-minute nap and some time with Lucy. And some coffee. In the meantime, D entertained throngs of visitors: her beloved med students, NICU social worker, nephro (who was not on call but came to say hi), her NICU primary nurse… I headed back in as soon as I felt alert enough to drive. D is now sleeping comfortably in her crib while I try to relax on the small, awkward squeaky plastic lounge chair, where I belong. D has had ginger-ale and chicken broth, and looks positively plump from all the fluids. If her labs tomorrow show improvement, she can go home. Where she belongs.
