We are literally trying to catch our breath around here. Me? Figuratively. Sweetboy? Literally. He’s been having lots of “fuzzy” chest feelings this past week and a half. We attributed it to a cold that went straight to the chest. Today I took him in to see the doctor that sees us for his asthma and allergies because we’ve nebulized this poor kid more in the past week than we have in the last 5 years! And that’s no joke. Something’s up.
After using the “old-fashioned” peak flow meter and the “computerized” peak flow meter,another peak flow meter. The good doctor had to leave a moment to get another peak flow meter. Apparently, we hadn’t done enough measuring the first two times. He determined that Sweetboy’s lungs are only operating at 70% capacity and that the number he was seeing was far below what would be expected. He proceeded to write one prescription for immediate use of a prednisone and another one for an antibiotic to knock out the bronchial infection. He informed us that the antibiotic was “super-strong” and might make Sweetboy’s stomach nauseous. Great. We just can not escape the pukes around here.
After telling the doctor what bad timing this was (his birthday is this weekend and he was supposed to attend his first ever sleep-over!), the doctor informed him that he couldn’t do the sleep-over, no way, no how! When I tell you that histrionics ensued, I’m not even slightly exaggerating. Sara Bernhardt ain’t got nothin’ on my guy. I took a deep breath and tried to calm him down while the doc disappeared for a moment. Probably to avoid the massive dramatic encounter going on in room whatever-number-we-were-in.
When the doctor re-entered the room, I
begged asked calmly, so as not to revive the histrionics, if there was any way he could attend the overnight since it was only a few doors down. He replied with a “use your judgement” comment. Dear John! Really? I get to have the honor of deciding whether my child attends his first ever sleep-over or not. On his birthday weekend. Word. Of. Mercy. The sheer weight of the decision left me breathless. (Guess we know where he gets his proclivity for drama…)
I talked it over with Sweetman and we decided to let him go. We sent him off on a wing and a prayer; and although we may be out of breath running over there a little later on tonight, we figure it’s good to get winded now and again. Yes indeedy!