A few days ago, Nicholas started having some really bad allergy symptoms that have become all too familiar for us. It always starts out the same - sneezing, runny nose, congestion. After a few days of that, it starts to move down south into his little lungs and sets up camp there. By Wednesday night, he was starting to cry after each cough and kept telling us that how badly it hurt. I woke up around 3:00 am and found that Greg hadn't made it to bed yet, which meant one thing. Nicholas was having a rough night. Things weren't much better the next morning and Greg and I both worried that his allergies were going to set off a full fledged asthma attack just like the ones in October and May. By the time I got off work that afternoon, he was working really hard to breath and was wheezing quite a bit. I tried to keep him calm but that's really hard to pull off when you have a three year old who's terrified because he can't catch his breath. He was really exhausted and was trying hard to fall asleep, but it was only getting worse. I was going back and forth in my head, just like you always do, trying to decide if I should call the doctor or not. Is it really serious? Is it as bad as I think it is in my head or am I just being a paranoid mommy? Will it pass on it's own? But, my dilemma came to a halt when I counted him take 87 breaths in one minute, and that was resting. I jumped up and called his doctor's office. At this point, I'm still maintaining my composure but when I told them his symptoms, they asked how far away we were (less than a mile) and quickly but firmly told me I needed to bring him straight there. So, I scooped him up and booked it to their office. (I think the urgency was a little overstated on their part because we sat in the waiting room a good 5 minutes before they came to get him.) Daddy and Grammy met us there and as we sat waiting, any doubt I had about the seriousness of the situation faded away. He was just awful. He was beyond restless, he was crying, he was struggling to breathe, he was grunting as he tried to swallow up as much air as he could. Imagine a three year old crying out for the doctor to come get him and help him. That was my boy at that moment and it broke my heart. Once we got to the exam room, they checked his pulse/ox which was registering at 85. That was bad. So, they brought in the nebulizer and immediately got the medicine going. After the first breathing treatment was over, the doctor came in to check him and let us know that he needed another breathing treatment because he was having such a severe attack. So, they administered the second one and had us wait 20 minutes to see how he reacted. After that, his pulse/ox came up to 94 which was better but by no means great. The doctor just wasn't comfortable sending him home like that so he decided to give him a big 'ol steroid shot to top him off. Nicholas had tolerated the entire event like a champ and took to the nebulizer in no time. Once he realized he looked live a diver or an astronaut. he was more than happy to wear the mask on his face and let the medicine do it's thing. So, here we are now. We've all recovered a bit but Nicholas has more work to do to get back to normal. I'm sure he feels like he ran a marathon yesterday and has been really tired and just started eating again tonight. The doctor upped his preventative care from a daily dose of Singulair to a twice daily nebulizer treatment of an inhaled steroid. He also has liquid Albuterol at home for acute attacks like yesterday and an oral steroid to take the next few days to clear up his lungs and reduce the inflammation. We're a little concerned about him taking such strong medications on a permanent basis but we realize if it's necessary, we have no choice. The nebulizer they gave us at the doctor's office is shaped like a puppy dog and Nicholas just loves him. He popped out of bed first thing this morning and said he wanted to give him a kiss, which he did. Each time we go through this, we're getting better at recognizing the signs and knowing what to do. I feel so much comfort knowing I can treat him at home now if I need to, which takes out so much of the worry and uncertainty. So, we've survived this and we're moving on to making him well and ensuring this doesn't happen again. I pray he doesn't have to deal with this for the rest of his life. Watching him in such misery like that is almost more than a parent can stand.
I also had some pictures of us playing in the backyard the other
day that I wanted to share. He's just so cute in his police gear!
This one is classic. Totally staged it himself. He says, "Mama! Take a picture of me like this,
like I'm shot!" Absolutely gruesome but just goes to show that his imagination's in full swing.
Here's to a brighter day tomorrow and every day thereafter. Blue skies ahead, baby.
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