Little Owl has kennel cough.
Er, I mean, croup.
Anyway, this may or may not be related to the fever of 39.5 from last week.
Might not be.
He started coughing a weird barking cough that sounded like kennel cough on Monday night. But Daycare Lady said she heard no coughing at daycare the next day. But he was up all night Tuesday, too, coughing and crying and refusing to sleep outside of my arms.
Wednesday, again, Daycare lady heard no coughing during the day.
Until about 4 in the afternoon, when he began to wheeze. The Daycare lady was concerned, but pointed to his cheerful demeanor and good appetite.
Thing is, when Owl’s appetite disappears, that’s when I should rush him to the E.R. because I don’t think I have ever encountered anything that made him turn down food, especially Daycare Lady’s lamb stew with barley.
But he was definitely getting worse.
“Every time he gives that sad, wheezy little cough, I feel like someone has just killed a kitten in front of me,” PH complained. “A sad, tiny, mewling kitten, and God just, like, SNAPPED ITS NECK.”
That night I ended up in locked the bathroom with the door closed while the hot water from the running shower filled the room with steam, until my baby stopped coughing and dozed off.
A consultation with Dr. Google revealed that he did not, in fact, have kennel cough, but croup.
“Then we should give him ipecac” I announced.
PH looked horrified.
“NO! Why would you do that to my baby??”
“Because when Diana Barry’s little sister was sick with the croup, Anne of Green Gables saved her life by giving her syrup of ipecac!”
But PH felt that perhaps a 19th century fiction novel might not be the best source of advice for treating our baby, so I was officially out of ideas.
Sorry, I was just resting my eyes.
Daycare Lady took him the next day anyway, because he had no fever, was otherwise quite cheerful and she really didn’t think he was contagious – or that if he was, he had probably already passed it along. However, his wheeze was getting worse, and I ended up leaving work early to take him to the children’s walk-in clinic.
The doctor was concerned about his airways, gave me steroids, and told me to bring him back if they didn’t make a big improvement.
“I would stick an ice pick into my own eye socket if it meant that I would never hear that cough ever, ever again,” PH told me.
Cue another night of steamed-up bathrooms and PH sleeping downstairs while Owl restlessly wiggled and coughed and wheezed through the night in our bed.
No, really, I’m awake.
So the next day I took him to the pediatrician again.
Happily, the doctor said his wheeze was getting better, and recommended adding some whacking doses of Tylenol to the steroids.
He’s getting better.
But he is still ending up in our bed, wiggling and coughing and kicking at his Daddy while he noms onto my boobas from the most improbable angles.
PH said one time he woke up in the night, and we were both asleep, but Owl was collapsed over my face, his bum up in the air.
We’re all a little tired. And by a little, I mean
PH gave me a bit of a sleep in today. I’m hoping he’ll be able to take a nap this afternoon.
And we’re PRAYING that Owl will be all better soon, because tonight is his last dose of steroids.