On Tuesday morning at about 1:30, Tracy and I did something I never thought we would be doing.
We took Xander to the emergency room.
Xander had been a little more crabby than ususal on Monday night, and never really went to sleep that night. I had sat up with Xander for a while and finally brought him to our bed to lay with Tracy for a while. That night, though only a few days earlier, is really a blur. All Tracy and I can remember is he started throwing up. A lot.
The first one got Tracy good. I mean GOOD. To the point that she had to get a completely new outfit and we had to change Xander's pajamas. We didn't give Xander anymore milk after that, thinking that had something to do with it.
We got him some water and while he drank that, he got sick AGAIN, and both Xander and Tracy were changing clothes for the second time that night and I had a much larger load of clothes than originally.
This whole time Tracy and I went back and forth about what to do. While we were worried about Xander, we also didn't want to get up and go in for nothing. It was then that we realized how ragged his breathing was and finally made the decision to go to the emergency room.
After pulling on some clothes and getting ready to go, I took Xander from Tracy and he sealed the deal by throwing up for the third time, this time on me. Granted he didn't get me nearly as bad as he had gotten himself and Tracy.
When we got to the emergency room they started doing tests and the pain began. First they hooked his big right toe to a monitor that checked blood pressure and how much oxygen was in the blood. The oxygen levels were consistently low which made them decide to do something that had tears in both mine and Tracy's eyes.
They wanted to do bloodwork. Which meant Xander was going to get poked. I don't care if they stick me with needles and I would have given anything that night to have it be me, but it had to be Xander. He knew something was happening when they started tying off his arm and started to whimper when they felt it. Xander let out a blood-curdling scream when the needle went in and it almost made me cry.
That wasn't even near the end because after the bloodwork they wanted Xrays. This one really made me sad because I know how much I hate being confined and the contraption they put him in to hold him still was straight out of a midevil torture chamber.
It is a clear pastic thing that buckles together, holding his arms above him. His poor body was nearly too big to fit and his little cheeks were pressed against the plastic. I really think he thought this was worse than the needle and I had tears in my eyes as he was in it for two Xrays.
Eventually the doctor decided he needed to be admitted with Reactive Airway Disease and they needed to give him an IV.
This was worse than the bloodwork. They put the needle in and then taped his arm to a splint to hold it steady. He cryed and tried to move his arm to wipe away the tears and found he couldn't even use his fingers.
We finally made it up to the room, battered and hooked to an IV machine. They wanted to give him a nebulizer treatment and he was to wore out to even fight it.
Tracy stayed with him and it was 4:30 before I even made it home.
This long night was only the beginning of our long ordeal.
