On Tuesday Devlin came home from school coughing and his breathing was a bit more rapid than I’d have liked. I gave him some puffs on his Ventolin and hoped that would help him out. I read a note his teacher left in the communication book that told me that Dev had arrived at school with vomit on his jacket, shirt and the straps for his wheel chair and just before Dev had come home for the night his speech therapist had called and excitedly told me that Dev had been sick at school and while that was terrible the result was amazing and she was very happy about it.
It seems that Shari asked Dev if he wanted his shirt changed after he’d been sick and his answer was to touch ‘yes’ and then ‘thank-you’ and Shari told me that was awesome because he’s made a chain of thought, which was a huge step developmentally.
So that meant that Dev had been sick twice at school that I knew of, and he’d come home with rapid breathing. I knew I had to keep a close eye on him.
As the night progressed Dev’s breathing became more and more laboured and both he and I were basically up for the entire night together. By lunchtime I knew that we were heading to the hospital and I woke up Hubby and delivered that message. I packed up everything that I figured we’d need if Dev was admitted to the hospital, because I was really worried that this might actually happen.
We arrived at the Hospital for Sick Children and were whisked quickly through admittance and ushered right to a room where they started to administer more Ventolin, some high powered steroids in liquid form and by blow oxygen. After 6 applications of the prescribed treatment and with no improvement the doctor told me that they were going to have to admit Dev and I just shrugged and told him that I’d already figured that would happen and I had left the packed bags in the car.
He just gave me a sad little smile and admired how prepared I was. A few of the nurses made comments about our level preparedness and how Hubby and I seemed very ‘old hat’ with all of this. It’s kind of sad, because it shows that we’ve been to this dog and pony show before and now know what to expect. This is the third time Dev’s been admitted to the hospital after all.
So we waited in the ER for a while until a bed opened up on the 7th floor, a location in the hospital we’re familiar with, since he’s always been admitted to that floor. He’s stayed in 7B, 7C and 7D, all that’s left is 7A and I shook my finger at Devlin and told him that he better not try to hit all 4 wards of the floor or else. He just grinned at me and tried to wiggle away from the oxygen tube.
We were there until Friday morning, Hubby picked us up on the way home from work. Dev had been an amazing trooper and he even cooperated when the girl came to get blood from him for some tests. He’d tightened up like he always does, and she made the comment that she wished that he would straighten his arm so that she could draw the blood from the easiest vein to grab but she didn’t want to make him uncomfortable, and in the blink of an eye Dev had stretched his arm out he held it like that while she took the blood. Not only that, but he also had to lift his head and watch the whole process. He didn’t make so much as a wimper. He didn’t even have a sharp intake of breath when the needle punctured his skin/vein. Very brave boy!