This week wasn't uneventful, but the event wasn't what I would have anticipated. I did make a visit to the hospital this week, but it wasn't for preeclampsia and I didn't have a baby. So we'll call it a win.
If my life were a novel, the foreshadowing would have come last Tuesday when I took Robbie to school and read the notice on the door. There had been several cases of a stomach virus confirmed in the school. They're great about notifying us about those things, though sometimes I almost hate it. It's not like we can avoid it anyway. In any case, I read it with dread and I think may have even audibly said "Lovely." before going about my business.
Sure enough, Friday night, Robbie began having symptoms. I'll spare you the gory details, but trust me that things were ugly at our house for a couple of days. He seemed to weather it pretty well on Saturday, other than a light (but not non-existent) appetite, and a definitely out-of-character 4 hour nap, he seemed mostly okay. Sunday brought the fever and he writhed around for a while telling me "tummy hewts. tummy hewts" which pretty much broke my heart. Fortunately some Mylanta and another 4 hour nap seemed to help and by Sunday night, other then lack of energy he seemed himself again.
The whole weekend I kept thinking how much I REALLY didn't want to get this, but all he wanted was me, even yelling at David, "NO! Need to snuggle mommy!" and crying when David tried to give me a break. And then Sunday night, my stomach started to hurt.
I hoped it was just reflux, but just before we went to bed, I told David I really didn't feel right. I hoped I was wrong, but I was pretty sure I was infected. Again, I'll spare you the details, but by 4:30 that morning, it was clear that I was definitely not okay. Truthfully, I don't think I've been that sick since I was a kid. The only good thing I can say about it is that it was the kind of sick that I knew wasn't preeclampsia, so I wasn't worried about that.
By the morning, I thought I might be improving. I was supposed to go to the peri lab for my NST & U/S, then by my OB's office for my weekly labs. I debated if I could make it or not, but around 9, decided that I thought I could. David had taken the day off to stay with Robbie rather than dragging him around the hospital with me all day. Robbie actually woke up perky and begging for food, but as he'd had a fever the day before, he still couldn't go to school. I told David I was going to try to shower and make my appt.
As soon as I stood up, I knew it wasn't going to happen. Fortunately I'd kept a bucket nearby in case Robbie needed it, and.. well.. again, the details.. spared.
After I cleaned myself up a bit, I called the peri office and told them I wouldn't be in. Then called my OB's office and explained what was going on. By this point I was pretty sure part of my inability to stand was dehydration, and I couldn't stop shaking. The nurse called me back in less than 5 minutes. She immediately went through the pre-e checklist. I assured her that I was 99% sure it wasn't that, and explained about the daycare plague. She said she'd check with my doc and call back. She hadn't even pulled my chart yet. I am both comforted and troubled by the fact that she heard my name and "vomit" in the same sentence and didn't even have to look at my chart to worry.
She called back a few minutes later and told me to go to L&D. I was probably going to need fluids. It was almost a relief. It took some shuffling (my dad left work to come be with Robbie so David could drive me to the hospital. God bless my dad.) and I packed an overnight bag and got a shower (though I had to take some breaks in the middle so I didn't pass out) just in case.
In the end, I really only spent a little more than 2 hours at the hospital. The intake nurse commented on the fact that I got sick even though I was home on bedrest. All I said was "My son. He's 3. Daycare." and she nodded knowingly.
The nurse who took care of me was great. There was no doubt I was dehydrated, so they started me on saline right away, then added Zofran which is a miracle drug, I've decided. They put me on the monitors, which pissed Chello right off. She had to be chased down once and did a lot of speaker kicking to vent her frustration. But she passed with flying colors. I told my nurse I'd cancelled my labs earlier, so she ran them for me anyway. My BP was goodish (135/75, I think) but they wanted to rule out pre-e issues anyway. She didn't give me the lab results, but apparently I passed everything I needed to. They hung a 2nd bag of fluids, let me have some ice chips and once I successfully kept that down, and finally peed a little, I was allowed to go home with a script for for Zofran and an order for fluids & crackers only for the day.
After 2 hours on a gurney made for a Little Person, I was very glad to get home to my pillow top mattress. Robbie'd been having a grand time with grandpa. Me catching his plague was quite the boon for him.
I did have to take another dose of meds in the evening, but otherwise by that point felt quite a bit better. Tuesday morning David took Robbie to school so I could go back to bed. I had a raging headache, but otherwise felt okay. After some Tylenol and sleeping more than I've slept since before Robbie was born, I woke again starving and like a new person. I had officially survived.
The last few days have brought some waves of nausea, but I couldn't honestly tell you if those are remnants of the plague or because Chello has decided to take up residence in my upper abdomen these days. Either way, it's been manageable, though if anyone knows where I can pick up a good deal on a balloon for the next 6ish weeks, I'd appreciate it.
My rescheduled peri appt is now Friday morning, so we'll see how Chello looks then, but she's been very active and really did show off a little at the hospital on Monday, so I'm hopeful that things will be good. Next stop- 32.