Emesis City

Post-tussive, that is.  (in other words, vomiting after coughing!)

This week has engaged T, L, and I in another adventure in infectious disease. Whereas two weeks ago L and I were the only ones subjected to headaches and vomiting and general malaise for about 24 hours, this one seems like it will linger on. You know how it starts: first the nagging tickle, then the sore throat which increases in severity to a point where you think it can’t worse. And then suddenly it does get worse. Then it’s a little better, then it’s horrible.  UGHHH. I think that L is a few days ahead of me in the illness because he has a runny nose that is pretty much going EVERYWHERE. He will look fine then will suddenly bury his face in his hands and nuzzle against my shoulder and writhe and wriggle and wiggle his head to and fro, then he lifts up his head to reveal glistening translucent cheeks, covered with lots of clear mucus.  Mmmmmmmm.

We had a funny adventure last night that took me back to a story my mother told me about when she, my dad, my brother, and I all had the flu, and were all sleeping on their King-sized mommy-daddy bed, and then suddenly my little Bro vomited and ahem, there was no bed for anybody and they had to wash the sheets while we all just laid there on the bare mattress.

Well. Last night, T and I were just beginning to develop that annoyingly horrid sore throat. As we were finally starting to understand what had been bothering L all those days, we alternated pain medications here and there and hoped for the best. We drank herbal tea with honey. We prayed for the pain to stop. But alas, it did not, despite our best efforts.  And when L needed to come to our bed for soothing and feeding, we did not stop him.  Of course, it was only a matter of time until he started coughing . . and coughing, and before I knew it . . . . SPLAT.  All over one side of the bed. Milk and mucus, all wet. His clothes: all wet.

I stripped him down and rubbed a towel on the matttress, plopped him on a dry spot on the bed, put a new onesie on him, tried to sleep, fed him a bit. . then about half an hour later, just when I started to fall asleep . . . .

SPLAT SPLAT. IT was bigger this time. Much bigger. This time in a horizontal sweep of vomit across the bed and pretty much soaking into the sheets and mattress pad. Off came L’s soaked clothes and off to the changer I went, bulb syringe and nasal saline in hand.  I had to grasp his tiny hands as he kicked and screamed his way through a nose cleaning (I put a few drops of the saline in his nose, wait about 30 seconds to a minute, then use the bulb suction to take out the mucus). I think that next time I may try a technique a family shared with me: using a little saline, then breathing air into his mouth to try to help push the mucus out of his nose.  Maybe he will tolerate this a little better?

Nevertheless, despite me doing this horrible suctioning thing all the time, L still prefers me to everyone else, still comes to me for soothing. So know it can’t be that bad. And at least he can breathe after the entire affair.

But back to the story. The bed thoroughly soaked, we changed L, who was now giggling and smiling and happy and awake and playful. GREEEAAAT. .  . . And we went to his room where we had him sleep in his crib as long as we could and went to sleep in his bed.  Even though he came to our bed for feeds, at least he seemed to remain clear for the rest of the short night, and he woke up at 6am as per usual. The hour came WAY too early for me, I’m afraid, since I didn’t sleep most of the night thanks to (a) the vomiting antics and (b) my own very very sore throat, which was decidedly not relieved by painkillers or antifever medicine.

That morning added up to par for the course.  I woke up and bathed, fed, and changed L and had him all ready for daycare. Off to T I handed the little tyke. T was getting ready to take him to daycare and while I was gone gave him a small container with a screw cap of something like vaseline for him to play with.  No sooner had T looked away for a few seconds when L looked at him smiling, his entire face and body covered in slimy goo. When he called me on the phone to let me know that L had gotten ahold of the Farmaesthetics ointment, I couldn’t help but burst out laughing.  Congratulations on giving L the most fancy spa treatment he could find in the house! But on the plus side, T told me, L’s hands were indeed VERY soft.

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A pediatrician. Now turned first-time mom. Venting and giving you all the wisdom I acquire over the days . . .

Posted in Baby, Humor, Medical Topics, Pediatrics, Personal Tagged with: , , , , ,