I really just need to learn to keep my mouth shut. Last week I sat in front of our oncologist and actually said "knock on wood, but we've just been sailing through treatment with very little incident." Foolish me. So it's only natural that we should land our asses smack dab in the middle of the ER at 9pm last night. I had mentioned before that Brooklyn's appetite was virtually non existent since she started consolidation. Well yesterday she began acting strangely. In the late morning she was sitting next to me on the couch and suddenly started shaking. When I went to pick her up she pushed away from me screaming "no mama!". I took her temp, it was normal. I gave her a bit of anti nausea medication hoping that she was just feeling a bit sick. She seemed to pull out of it.
After nap time she woke up screaming bloody murder. She told me her knee hurt, so I immediately took her temp. 99.5, which is her typical baseline, so totally normal. Then I gave her some Tylenol and called the doctor for the second time in two days. They told me she was probably constipated and to give her a laxative. I remained unconvinced, but followed their instructions anyway. I know this child better than anyone else, I know when something is wrong and I was 100% certain that this time there was something else going on here.
Fast forward to bed time. As I'm tucking the kid in for the night, just before I pour a second glass of wine for myself I think "I should probably take her temp just to be certain". And so I do. 101.2. The hospital guidelines say to call in anything over 101.3. I knew we were headed there. Five minutes later I take her temp again. 101.5. Fuuuuuuuuuuck. So I call the on call oncologist. I am told to come to the ER immediately. So I pack up the kids, cork that bottle of wine and speed the whole family to the emergency room in the middle of the night. The place is pack. I mean, like no standing room packed. So I immediately put a mask on my little chemo kid and begin frantically searching for a safe corner. Apparently, cancer is serious to these people because I never even had time to sit down in the waiting room before they called Brooklyn's name. We were ushered into a room where the nurses did her vitals and blood draw. The doctor saw us almost the moment we settled in and announced they were setting her up for admittance just in case.
At this point Avi arrived from work to take the baby back home for the night. We were told that everything looked good and they would probably give her an antibiotic and send us home. Again, foolish thinking. An hour later they were hooking her up to a heart monitor, sending us for chest X-rays and an EKG. She came in with a heart rate of 200 and it had settled to 180. They would love for it to be down to 120. What could be causing this issue? They have no idea. Everything came back normal. The labs, the X-rays, the EKG. Her heart is just racing for some reason.
The most infuriating part of all of this is the fact that the hospital is completely full and there is not a bed to be found. Brooklyn and I have spent the past 15 hours camping out in the ER. We may be here for hours more. At least she has a private room. But it's not the most comfortable situation in the world. I'm beginning to wonder if I'll ever sleep again, I'm so exhausted. We still don't know what's going on with Brooklyn, and I'm not leaving until we find out.
If I've learned anything from this incident, it's that I should always follow my gut when it comes to my kids.
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