Week of January 8, 2003
Owen came down with Croup on the 5th, and that pretty much consumed our week. Sunday night we spent trying to calm a stricken and unhappy child when we ourselves were feeling pretty strung out with anxiety. Owen was worn out and clingy, bad signs for him. We tried running the shower, but the noise of the water seemed to scare him in his sleepy, out of it state. Mostly he wanted to be held and I guess with croup, calming them down is half the battle.
His cough was awful, but we were more anxious about the fact he wasn't drinking. His throat must have been so sore, he resisted every offer of water or milk we made. We threw our rules out the window and spent a lot of the day with the TV on, trying to keep Owen somewhat distracted and comfortable. By Wednesday, I knew the PBS line up better than I ever imagined I would, and I think I now like Sagwa even more than Owen does.
Scott and I split the days of staying home, with me home in the mornings and Scott in the afternoon. Scott made the trek to the Pediatrician on the advice of the phone-in Nurse, and I'm glad he went. We were told that Owen did indeed have croup, but we were reassured that he was not dehydrated (what tiny amount got in his mouth must have been enough). I knew the fact that he could still cry tears was promising, but it still seemed at odds with his lack of drinking. They gave him an oral steroid in the Doctor's office, and Owen felt much better after the appointment - he was practically gulping milk when he got home. It was wonderful to seem him smile a little bit, and act a tiny bit like himself.
Tuesday was horrible, however. Rebound effect? I don't know, but he was filled with a tantrums and tears and unhappiness. I was counting down the minutes until it was time to go to work. I felt a little guilty, but not a lot. Owen was lost in more tears when we switched off child-duty and I don't think Scott looked very enthused, getting custody of a very unhappy customer. One feels so helpless to fix anything for a sick child, and 45 minutes of tears you can't sooth is misery for everyone. Scott was thrilled I could leave work a tiny bit early and so go back onto shared duty.
Wednesday, however, was a better day! Owen got progressively more chipper so that by the end of the afternoon, he was laughing and smiling. Scott and Owen picked me up, and he was pretty gleefully running up and down my hall. He wore out very, very quickly though, and we tucked him in early and he slept well. Phew, we got through it, we thought. The worst is over.
The worst was over, but we had another loop thrown. As soon as Owen was better, Scott and I promptly got sick. I ended up with the more throat-intensive version (and eventually laryngitis). We were thrilled to have Owen better, but it was hard spending three days caring for him when both Scott and I would have happily stayed home in bed off duty. Sinus pain, headaches, sniffles, a cough and a sore throat. Ick. Thank goodness for analgesics!
So now we're all on the other side of this hard week, and our mission ahead is weaning Owen off the TV habit we created when he was sick. We have things set up now so that when he shuffles over to turn the TV on, all he gets is the digital golden oldies channel. With luck, he'll eventually realize that better things aren't coming and give up on his new found obsession. Fortunately his trains are handy, and he spent most of his time even when he was enthralled by the tube, playing with his trains.
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