He is SO not a happy camper...
Tuesday, March 3rd, 2009 05:53 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
auntbijouI feel like I'm spamming you today.
My poor little man. He's got a nasty tummy bug... again. Started Sunday night. We thought it was his citrus sensitivity, since he'd gorged himself on five or six Clementine oranges we had picked up at the grocery store. Normally, he's only allowed two, and I can only credit extreme sneakiness on his part for getting away with it. However, I can pretty much guarantee that it won't happen again, since he ended up with the Stomach Ache of Doom on Sunday night.
Monday morning, he woke up complaining that his tummy still hurt, and he didn't want to go to school. However, he didn't have a fever, and I figured it was either nervous tummy (as in Severe Monday-itis) or the oranges weren't quite done with him yet. He couldn't eat his breakfast, but I got him ready for school anyway, keeping an eye on him as we went along, and the fact that he was very, very quiet in the back seat, and soon lost interest in his Nintendo told me he probably wasn't going to make it to school. After we dropped Miss Priss off, I looked in the kid mirror and saw a pale, peaky little face looking back at me. So... we went home. And when I called the doctor? Full up. No appointments.
Not long after we got home... Mount Impossible erupted. Yay.
By the afternoon, I knew it wasn't the oranges anymore. He did not want me to leave his sight. It was like having a child surgically attached to your body. And he was the limpest little noodle you ever saw, not wanting to do anything, not wanting to look at food, barely wanting to drink...
He did revive enough by evening, though, to eat some chicken.
Which he threw up this morning.
So, I called the doctor again, and got him in to see the physician's assistant. And what did we find out? Well, the Impossible Son was the sixth kid she'd seen today with the same symptoms. Vomiting, diarrhea, listlessness, no fever, stomach pain, headache...
And she saw nine yesterday. And four more had to be taken to the hospital over the weekend with the same symptoms.
They took swabs to see if he had the flu (they were negative) and also sent him to have blood drawn (y'all, he did so WELL!! He was so BRAVE!! His eyes got big, but he didn't move and he didn't cry!!), and... we have to send in stool samples. When the PA told me that, I said, "Are you suspecting salmonella?"
"Um, well," she said slowly, "I don't want to say it until we know for sure. That's why we want the tests."
"Well," I said slowly, "thing is, we were all sick over Christmas, including my mother, and we suspect THAT was salmonella, so..."
She was quiet, then said, "If it is, then we will deal with it as it comes. And that's why we're running these tests. So please, please, I know it's gross, but it's really important to get those samples!"
So... I will.
This is really frustrating, though. I'm just going to hope for the best here, and hope we're not bound to go through this... again.
*is still so very proud of her little man for letting the phlebotomist draw his blood... the FIRST time, no cajoling, no begging, no pleading*
My poor little man. He's got a nasty tummy bug... again. Started Sunday night. We thought it was his citrus sensitivity, since he'd gorged himself on five or six Clementine oranges we had picked up at the grocery store. Normally, he's only allowed two, and I can only credit extreme sneakiness on his part for getting away with it. However, I can pretty much guarantee that it won't happen again, since he ended up with the Stomach Ache of Doom on Sunday night.
Monday morning, he woke up complaining that his tummy still hurt, and he didn't want to go to school. However, he didn't have a fever, and I figured it was either nervous tummy (as in Severe Monday-itis) or the oranges weren't quite done with him yet. He couldn't eat his breakfast, but I got him ready for school anyway, keeping an eye on him as we went along, and the fact that he was very, very quiet in the back seat, and soon lost interest in his Nintendo told me he probably wasn't going to make it to school. After we dropped Miss Priss off, I looked in the kid mirror and saw a pale, peaky little face looking back at me. So... we went home. And when I called the doctor? Full up. No appointments.
Not long after we got home... Mount Impossible erupted. Yay.
By the afternoon, I knew it wasn't the oranges anymore. He did not want me to leave his sight. It was like having a child surgically attached to your body. And he was the limpest little noodle you ever saw, not wanting to do anything, not wanting to look at food, barely wanting to drink...
He did revive enough by evening, though, to eat some chicken.
Which he threw up this morning.
So, I called the doctor again, and got him in to see the physician's assistant. And what did we find out? Well, the Impossible Son was the sixth kid she'd seen today with the same symptoms. Vomiting, diarrhea, listlessness, no fever, stomach pain, headache...
And she saw nine yesterday. And four more had to be taken to the hospital over the weekend with the same symptoms.
They took swabs to see if he had the flu (they were negative) and also sent him to have blood drawn (y'all, he did so WELL!! He was so BRAVE!! His eyes got big, but he didn't move and he didn't cry!!), and... we have to send in stool samples. When the PA told me that, I said, "Are you suspecting salmonella?"
"Um, well," she said slowly, "I don't want to say it until we know for sure. That's why we want the tests."
"Well," I said slowly, "thing is, we were all sick over Christmas, including my mother, and we suspect THAT was salmonella, so..."
She was quiet, then said, "If it is, then we will deal with it as it comes. And that's why we're running these tests. So please, please, I know it's gross, but it's really important to get those samples!"
So... I will.
This is really frustrating, though. I'm just going to hope for the best here, and hope we're not bound to go through this... again.
*is still so very proud of her little man for letting the phlebotomist draw his blood... the FIRST time, no cajoling, no begging, no pleading*
