I Don't Like It

Getting scared that is, I don't like it one bit. And that's where I was at very early this morning, right in the middle of Scared City. Thomas woke me up around midnight as usual to eat, so I fed him and put him back in his crib and proceeded to immediately fall fast asleep. The next thing I knew, John brought him in again to me to feed him, seemed like 5 minutes later to me. I said, "I didn't even hear him wake up!" John said, "I've been up since around 1:00," making me think he had been up that long with Thomas. Wouldn't be much of a surprise some nights, as he has had many nights of tummy issues, etc. When I said, "Why didn't you tell me, I would have gotten up with him, since you have to work?" He said, "No, I've been up because I'm having a hard time breathing." At this point it's sinking in that he's talking about himself, and I started to hear him wheezing as he spoke. I asked if he was alright and if we needed to go to the hospital. "No, I'm alright, it's just hard to breathe." I told him to let me know what's going on and if we need to go to the hospital, we'll go to the hospital. "No, no, no, I'm fine." Ok.

Fed Thomas, in the meantime John had gone back downstairs so as not to keep us awake with his rumbling cough. After I put Thomas back to bed, I immediately went downstairs to check on him. I told him to come upstairs and sit up in bed and watch TV so I could keep an eye on him. If he was downstairs, I wouldn't be able to hear him if he needed me or if he took a turn for the worse. He agreed to come up, and sat down to watch some TV. I looked over several times to find him kneeling on his hands and knees on the floor, coughing his head off and wheezing. I asked if he was ok and between wheezes, he said, "No, not really, I can't get a good breath." I asked him again, "Do we need to go to the hospital?" "No, not yet." "Well, please let me know what I need to do. If we need to go, let's go."

Not much later, he finally gave up. "Ok, I think it's time to go to the hospital. *gasp* I'm really having a hard time breathing. *wheeze*" Out of bed I jumped, wide awake now, and told him, "Ok, I'm going downstairs to call my mom, and then I'm getting the kids in the car. You stay here and I will come back for you." The best part was when he asked me if I thought he should put some pants on or just stay in his pajama bottoms. "Are you serious? I really don't think that matters, you may end up in a gown anyway!" I went down and called mom, then came back up to get Amelia first. In the meantime, John is trying to make his way downstairs and stopping every few feet to breathe. I got Amelia downstairs and changed her diaper and put her shoes on, gave her a cup of milk, and turned to head back up for Thomas. John is now almost all the way downstairs. "I told you to stay there! I will come back to get you!" *cough* *wheeze* Got Thomas up, bundled him in his seat, John still making his way across the first floor of the house, stopping every 3 feet to catch his breath *cough* *squeak* and kneeling down on the floor. I'm running around the house grabbing the diaper bag, making a bottle, grabbing coats, handing him his shoes, and he's fighting hard for each little breath, and still determined to make it over to his stupid coat. "Would you just sit down?! I am going to take them out to the van, and then I will be back for you!"

I took Amelia outside, and come back in to find he has moved AGAIN. Now I'm getting irritated with Wheezy. "Sit down!" Grab Thomas, take him out to the van. Come back in again, and AGAIN he's in another place! "Dammit, why don't you listen to me?! I said to sit down and I would be back for you!" "Just *gasp* trying to *wheeze* speed things along...." Get him out to the van, and start to back up. I heard this sound like a funny little whimper and thought it was Thomas trying to settle into his seat. "It's ok, Buddy, we'll be at Nana's house in a few minutes." The weird noise continued, and I suddenly realized, it wasn't Thomas, it was John's lungs. He sounded like the dogs' squeaky toy. *squeak, squeak, wheeze, cough, squeak, squeak* At that point, I said, "I'm going to drive as fast as I safely can." "Take your time *wheeze* I'll be fine *squeak*" "Yeah, you sound like it," I'm thinking to myself. Rushed over and dropped the kids off, and drove fast as I dared with two not-so-open eyes at 4:30 am to Trinity (Unity).

And his persistence continues: we got to the hospital, and I went to pull up to the Emergency door to take him inside. "The parking lot *wheeze* is right *wheeze* there *cough*." "Well, I was going to get you up close to the door so you don't have to walk far." "It will *squeak* be fine *cough*." "Whatever! You can't make it three feet without having to stop for a breath!" Fine, whatever, I'll park the damn car. Got him up to the hospital, and luckily there was nobody else there, so they got him right into a room and started checking him over. His oxygen level was at 94% or so when we first got there, but kept dipping down to at 90% for the next 20 minutes or so. They gave him a shot of solbuterol, drew some blood to get a more accurate oxygen level, and gave him a nebulizer treatment. Sent him for a chest x-ray to make sure there wasn't anything more serious going on. After the shot and the neb treatment he started to breathe much better. He could actually talk and carry on a conversation without fighting for each breath. They kept him for observation for another hour or so, and we finally got out of there about 6:30 am. Scared me to death.

So this afternoon, to quote a fellow blogger's post this week, we had a "Come to Jesus" meeting. One of those serious meetings where you say, "This is what needs to happen in the future, etc." So John knows now that the next time something like this happens, no matter how serious or non-serious he thinks it is, he still has to wake me up and let me know that it is going on, so that I don't find him passed out or dead and wonder what the heck happened. Asthma is a serious thing folks, and I take it more seriously now than ever. We have taken for granted for too long that his asthma was under control. It has been getting worse the last month or so with him wheezing and using his inhaler a lot more, so clearly it is time for some new treatments. We are going to see his primary care giver today to get some new prescriptions and some asthma education, so BOTH of us know what signs to watch for and what to do. And I told him I am going to stay on him about this, because it is serious, and I take it very seriously. Thank goodness that is over. And thank God it was not as serious as it could have been. And much as the Muscatine hospital gets a bad rap, the folks at the ER were very professional, and quickly got the situation under control.