Tate and his giant green paw. Our adventure has ended. We came home last night with no surgery needing to be had. The Great Tate Hospital Incident 2009 is over. It was not fun.
Tate woke up yesterday morning at 4 when they came in to take his vitals. He then proceeded to cry til about 4:30 when he fell back asleep. Then he woke up at 5 when someone came in to prick his finger. Cue another half hour of crying followed by being taken over by sheer exhaustion and succumbing to sleep. Then Eric called at 6:45. After that, we were up for good. Well, I had pretty much been awake since 4. Believe it or not, the couch that converted into a bed was not so comfortable. It felt like sleeping on soggy Styrofoam. And I didn't even want to let myself think where that pillow had been before. Blech.
Basically the day played out like this: Tate would cry and scream for a couple hours, which would get amped up a few notches each time a nurse came in, he would throw his cup at us 59 million times, then pass out from fatigue. As soon as he would fall asleep, the hands of fate would decide to poop on our heads (can hands poop? Whatever), and then nurses would need to come in to take vitals, some volunteer would absolutely HAVE to stock the closet, the bathroom would need to get cleaned, etc, etc. So Tate would wake up after sleeping for about 15 minutes, look around, take a deep breath and start yowling again for the next couple hours. Seriously. I thought I was going to lose my mind.
He did enjoy getting pulled around the hallways on a wagon with Nora, though. We milked that for a good 45 minutes.
When the doctor finally came in, he said the fever was gone, the white blood cell count was almost back to normal, and the tonsils that were so swollen they were almost touching the previous day had shrunk down significantly. Apparently the antibiotics he had been on earlier just didn't work and weren't killing the bacteria or whatever the hell was causing all this. Getting a continuous dose of a different antibiotic and some type of steroid did the trick.
This better not happen again, is all I can say. I don't think the nurses would allow us back, for one thing. Our room was right next to the nurses station so they had front row seats to the concert Tate so thoughtfully provided from his bed. I also don't think they really appreciated getting sippy cups of apple juice chucked at their heads.
I felt so bad for him. He was completely confused, terrified, pissed off, what have you. I think it will take awhile for him to get back to normal...he's still extremely pale and lethargic. It's 9:32 am and he's already taking a nap on the couch. Well, the 45 minute tantrum he threw this morning might have contributed to making him a wee bit weary.
You gotta admire his sheer dedication to his art of tantrums. He will soon be known as a legend in his field, I believe.
Tate woke up yesterday morning at 4 when they came in to take his vitals. He then proceeded to cry til about 4:30 when he fell back asleep. Then he woke up at 5 when someone came in to prick his finger. Cue another half hour of crying followed by being taken over by sheer exhaustion and succumbing to sleep. Then Eric called at 6:45. After that, we were up for good. Well, I had pretty much been awake since 4. Believe it or not, the couch that converted into a bed was not so comfortable. It felt like sleeping on soggy Styrofoam. And I didn't even want to let myself think where that pillow had been before. Blech.
Basically the day played out like this: Tate would cry and scream for a couple hours, which would get amped up a few notches each time a nurse came in, he would throw his cup at us 59 million times, then pass out from fatigue. As soon as he would fall asleep, the hands of fate would decide to poop on our heads (can hands poop? Whatever), and then nurses would need to come in to take vitals, some volunteer would absolutely HAVE to stock the closet, the bathroom would need to get cleaned, etc, etc. So Tate would wake up after sleeping for about 15 minutes, look around, take a deep breath and start yowling again for the next couple hours. Seriously. I thought I was going to lose my mind.
He did enjoy getting pulled around the hallways on a wagon with Nora, though. We milked that for a good 45 minutes.
When the doctor finally came in, he said the fever was gone, the white blood cell count was almost back to normal, and the tonsils that were so swollen they were almost touching the previous day had shrunk down significantly. Apparently the antibiotics he had been on earlier just didn't work and weren't killing the bacteria or whatever the hell was causing all this. Getting a continuous dose of a different antibiotic and some type of steroid did the trick.
This better not happen again, is all I can say. I don't think the nurses would allow us back, for one thing. Our room was right next to the nurses station so they had front row seats to the concert Tate so thoughtfully provided from his bed. I also don't think they really appreciated getting sippy cups of apple juice chucked at their heads.
I felt so bad for him. He was completely confused, terrified, pissed off, what have you. I think it will take awhile for him to get back to normal...he's still extremely pale and lethargic. It's 9:32 am and he's already taking a nap on the couch. Well, the 45 minute tantrum he threw this morning might have contributed to making him a wee bit weary.
You gotta admire his sheer dedication to his art of tantrums. He will soon be known as a legend in his field, I believe.
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Glad to hear Tate is feeling better and you were able to leave the hospital. Did you ever really find out what was the cause of all of this?
ReplyDeleteI'm really glad you guys are home. What a terrible experience for all of you.
ReplyDelete