So Here We Are...

...at the hospital. Whee. I'm sitting here looking at my little guy sleeping in his hospital bed while I'm wide awake and not tired in the slightest. It's been a day. A DAY.

Basically, we took him to his pediatrician again today and she did more blood work (boo) and determined he didn't have mono (yay!), which was something she was thinking it might be. After taking a few looks at his throat, she made us an appointment with an ENT specialist to take a look-see. Tate hated being at the doctor again and made this pretty well known by smacking her whenever she tried to look in his mouth. Or ears. Or tried to listen to his heart.

At the ENT, Tate decided he hated being there too and screamed bloody murder when the doc said he wanted to look into his throat. This actually was helpful, though, since the doc could see clear into the back of his throat while Tate was squalling in his face. He said the tonsils looked absolutely horrible, and with his white blood cell count still being double what it should, and his fever still being crazy-ass high, he thought that getting the tonsils out might be the way to go. He mentioned just getting it down right away as an option, or getting Tate set up on an IV and antibiotics first to try and get the fever down before doing anything. So here we are. The process of getting to this point was horrible.

As soon as we got to the hospital, Tate flipped his shit when he realized he had been tricked into going to a doctor AGAIN, and just went ballistic. Nurses would try and take his temperature and he freaked. Try to listen to his heart... freaked. Getting his blood pressure was a joke since it was off the charts what with the screaming and flailing about and all that. Then came the truly horrible part. They had to do more blood work and put an IV in.

The nurses basically said that if either Eric or I were going to have issues with being in the room for that part, we should leave. Yeah, that would be me. I knew I would be a wreck, and therefore scare Tate even more. I went out in the hall and heard him start to scream. I went farther down the hall. The screams followed me. Through a set of doors...and I could still hear the screaming. It was tearing my heart out. I heard my baby screaming in terror and fear and I could. Not. Fix. It. It was unlike anything I've ever felt before...I felt completley helpless and guilty and scared and sick to my stomach. I could hear him scream "STOP! STOP! ALL DONE! ALL DONE, PLEASE!" It was the "pleases" that really tore me apart. It took about 20 minutes to get everything done, but it felt like an eternity of staring at the pattern on the hallway wallpaper and pretty much feeling like shit. All Eric said when I got back in the room was, "That was horrible."

When I came back in, he was hooked up to an IV and his entire hand was wrapped in bright green gauze. He's got a neon green paw and is NOT amused. But he seemed to forget about it after a bit. Still won't let the nurse do his blood pressure, though. We'll see what happens tomorrow. My brain is pretty much shut off at this point.

Poor baby.