When I woke up this morning, I fully expected feisty pants to be home by this afternoon. So I didn't go in to the hospital (her father has been staying this time). I stayed home and cleaned and tried to catch up on things so that when she got here we could have a fun evening watching whatever FP wanted. But at 10 am no doctor. Same at noon. And 2 pm. By five, when the doc did come in, the nurses had noticed a pattern of low sat rates and funny heart rates. So no discharge. And I could have blown off the house and spent the day with her. Sigh. Instead, here I am waiting for tomorrow with only Google and WebMD to keep me company. Now I am concerned about her brain tumor/ebola/prostate cancer. Great.
But that's kind of the way it goes with a feisty one. All the every day trials and tribulations seem magnified because it's more complicated juggling life when you have to add dozens of doctors appointments and medications and therapy sessions. Then factor in physical logistics, emotional logistics (some feisty kids find every day situations overwhelming in a myriad of ways), and, my favorite, sleep deprivation. Now, just to be thorough, throw in all those fears that come nag at you at three am. What if she is getting worse? What if they want to ship her out? What if we have to skip Christmas this year? How much snoring and farting can an 11 month old dog do at 3 am, anyway? (Maybe that last one is just at our house.)
So after trying to keep busy and get some holiday stuff done (What day can be a complete waste if it ends with washing chocolate out your hair?) I tried to get up early and rush in to stare at my kid and worry in person. Only to find her looking normal. Her sick version of normal, but normal nonetheless. Sat rates still suck, but holding on the O2. Cranky as hell, but that won't change until the say the magic word (discharge). Heart rate down a little bit. Still a very sick kid. But not dangerously so. And still willing to argue a little bit with the doctor. (Nuh-uh, she is too ready to go. Just that no one asked HER. And btw, owowowowowow her IV site is just KILLING her, maybe they should take it out???) So, now I can breathe.
And, that's also the way it goes with a feisty one. Just when you're ready to face whatever. You've girded your loins and screwed your courage to it's sticking place. Put on your best brave face and waited for someone in scrubs to ruin your day/week/year/life. They don't. You catch your breath and reboot. And get a little break in the storm. And the day seems blissfully uneventful. And my three am demons get a little smaller and less loud. If only I could also dampen the sleeping noises (and smells ) of Cheweverything Pants.