A shit week

Finn woke up yet again last night burning up with fever and I sat up with him for half the night as he whimpered and cried. His cough sounds terrible, and nothing I did seemed to console him. I was seriously wondering if this little guy was going to end up in the hospital. Finally after hours of this, he feel asleep on my chest as I sat up in bed.

I got up this morning with a headache. I've actually had a nagging headache for about 3 days. By the time I dropped the kids at their respective schools and Michael at the train station (he was in no shape to drive to the train station this morning but still had to go to work, and in fact ended up having to work late), all the stress and sleeplessness and sickness culminated in an awful migraine. I sat with Finn doing a breathing treatment this morning trying not to vomit, and I finally had to stop and put him down in his crib and let him cry while I went to throw up. I called the pediatrician to tell them that Finn is not getting any better and the receptionist said she would have the doctor or a nurse call me back. They know me by name now. All I had to say was "This is Lisa Morguess calling . . ." and the receptionist said, "Ohhhh, is Finnian still not feeling well?"


So I turned Noggin on and put the three girls in front of the TV and begged them (literally) to please be good and quiet and let Mommy rest for a little while, and I got into bed while my head hurt so bad I could hardly see straight despite having popped 3 Advil. I had to get up a number of times to vomit. At one point, there I was, heaving my guts up into the toilet while Daisy banged on the door saying "Mommy, what are you doing? I need a snack!" It was seriously like being in hell.

The nurse from the ped's office called me back and said that based on the symptoms I described over the phone, they feared Finn might have pnuemonia and that I needed to bring him in, and could I bring him right away? I stared crying then. I told her "I can't even drive right now, my head hurts so bad that I'm throwing up." She was so kind, which just made me cry more (I'm at that point where any kindness anyone shows me has me in tears. I feel utterly pitiful.) She said, "I just want you to know that all of us here understand the stress you're under. We all know about your husband, and we're all pulling for you guys." (Which made me cry more.) Anyway, she said they would squeeze us in at the end of the day, which would give me a chance to hopefully get my shit together.

Shortly after that I got Finn from his room and put him into bed with me, and we stayed there until noon. I never do that. I never even take naps. And yes, that means that Daisy, Annabelle and Lilah sat in front of the tv all freaking morning. Ack.

Finally around noon I was feeling somewhat better. Shaky, my head was still aching a little, but it had subsided and the nausea was gone. My lovely sister-in-law was kind enough to drop everything and drive all the way from L.A. to stay with the kids while I took Finn to the ped later.

So at the ped's they tried to get an oxygen-saturation reading on him with this little portable pulse-ox monitor, but they couldn't get a reading. The doc listened to his chest and said that he's still got a wheeze but that it doesn't sound like pnuemonia. He checked his throat (red) and his ears, and lo and behold, another ear infection. Which probably explains the nighttime fevers and inconsolability. So another round of antibiotics, something new this time, a 5 day course of Omnicef, which I've never heard of. I hope it does the trick. I don't think that either Finn or I can take much more of this.

Someone said something to me recently that's made me stop and wonder: have I become one of those annoying people who has constant drama going on? I swear, sometimes I look at my life lately and I hardly recognize it. We were sailing along smoothly, thank you very much, and then BAM! A baby with Down syndrome. Six months later, BAM! Michael gets diagnosed with cancer. (It's interesting . . . my dad and my first husband died almost exactly six months apart. It's enough to make a person superstitious.) Bambambam, the baby's always sick (or so it seems at times), and needs this surgery and that procedure.

Feeling very tired and bewildered lately.