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Nov. 29th, 2010 10:02 am![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
rivkaWhen we arrived at the ER, Colin lay listlessly in my arms. He spoke in a whisper, and only a few words at a time. (Mostly "Mama?") His eyes were sunken into his face. When he cried - which he barely did; he mostly just lay there and stared - he didn't produce any tears.
When we left the ER two hours later, Colin was marching around the room singing "Seventy-Six Trombones."
That's the difference ten ounces of Pedialyte and half a Zofram (anti-nausea tablet) makes.
I don't know why he took Pedialyte in the hospital but not at home. They had the especially gross unflavored kind, even. But he guzzled the bottles down and asked for "more please" again and again - first in a whisper, and eventually with an indignant shout as he banged the empty bottle. Mercifully, it kept him IV-free. He produced the wet diaper necessary for discharge after the fifth two-ounce bottle.
He is sleeping peacefully now. We ought to be able to manage the rest of this at home: clear liquids and then bland foods, followed by a more normal diet tomorrow. They gave me an extra tab of Zofram if he needs it - or if Alex comes down with it next.
Every medical person we encountered in the last 18 hours has been fantastic.
Dr. Winkelstein, the doctor on call last night. We first spoke at 5:30. She told me to call back at 8 with an update, and after we'd checked in then she strongly encouraged me to call her in the middle of the night if I needed to. I did call her at 2:30am and she was awesome. Reassuring and not a bit tired-sounding. She helped me decide that it would be safe to wait until 6am to take him in to the ER. At 8, just as she was going off-shift, she called me to see how he was doing. When I didn't answer, she called the ER to see if we were there and if Colin was okay. The first three calls were just her doing her job, but that last one? Was the one that made her outstanding.
At the ER we didn't have to wait at all. There was a nurse at my side by the time we finished giving Colin's name and birthdate. Everyone went out of their way to greet Alex and say something friendly and supportive to her. (Mostly "wow, your mother is so lucky to have your help." Which I am.) They all listened to me very carefully. The doctor explained not only what we were going to try first, but also what we were going to try second and third, so that I had the whole protocol clear in my mind. Nobody made me feel like an idiot for not being able to get him rehydrated orally at home. The clerk didn't come to get the rest of our registration information (and proof of insurance, and copayment) until after Colin was markedly better. And - proof that they listened to me carefully - when they gave us our discharge instructions both the nurse and the doctor went out of their way to emphasize that breastmilk is considered a clear liquid and that Colin should nurse as much as he likes. Plenty of doctors don't keep that in mind for infants, let alone almost-two-year-olds.
I am so impressed with, and so grateful for, the care we received. Rehydration is pretty much a medical no-brainer, but to me that makes the good patient care even more impressive. They kept in mind that it wasn't a routine, worry-free procedure for us.
When we left the ER two hours later, Colin was marching around the room singing "Seventy-Six Trombones."
That's the difference ten ounces of Pedialyte and half a Zofram (anti-nausea tablet) makes.
I don't know why he took Pedialyte in the hospital but not at home. They had the especially gross unflavored kind, even. But he guzzled the bottles down and asked for "more please" again and again - first in a whisper, and eventually with an indignant shout as he banged the empty bottle. Mercifully, it kept him IV-free. He produced the wet diaper necessary for discharge after the fifth two-ounce bottle.
He is sleeping peacefully now. We ought to be able to manage the rest of this at home: clear liquids and then bland foods, followed by a more normal diet tomorrow. They gave me an extra tab of Zofram if he needs it - or if Alex comes down with it next.
Every medical person we encountered in the last 18 hours has been fantastic.
Dr. Winkelstein, the doctor on call last night. We first spoke at 5:30. She told me to call back at 8 with an update, and after we'd checked in then she strongly encouraged me to call her in the middle of the night if I needed to. I did call her at 2:30am and she was awesome. Reassuring and not a bit tired-sounding. She helped me decide that it would be safe to wait until 6am to take him in to the ER. At 8, just as she was going off-shift, she called me to see how he was doing. When I didn't answer, she called the ER to see if we were there and if Colin was okay. The first three calls were just her doing her job, but that last one? Was the one that made her outstanding.
At the ER we didn't have to wait at all. There was a nurse at my side by the time we finished giving Colin's name and birthdate. Everyone went out of their way to greet Alex and say something friendly and supportive to her. (Mostly "wow, your mother is so lucky to have your help." Which I am.) They all listened to me very carefully. The doctor explained not only what we were going to try first, but also what we were going to try second and third, so that I had the whole protocol clear in my mind. Nobody made me feel like an idiot for not being able to get him rehydrated orally at home. The clerk didn't come to get the rest of our registration information (and proof of insurance, and copayment) until after Colin was markedly better. And - proof that they listened to me carefully - when they gave us our discharge instructions both the nurse and the doctor went out of their way to emphasize that breastmilk is considered a clear liquid and that Colin should nurse as much as he likes. Plenty of doctors don't keep that in mind for infants, let alone almost-two-year-olds.
I am so impressed with, and so grateful for, the care we received. Rehydration is pretty much a medical no-brainer, but to me that makes the good patient care even more impressive. They kept in mind that it wasn't a routine, worry-free procedure for us.
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Date: 2010-11-29 09:16 pm (UTC)I hate flavoured Dioralyte and much prefer the unflavoured kind, but it's hard to get. I don't like the taste of things pretending to be other things. But it's also possible that he likes things which taste like other things, as long as he's not fighting the urge to heave his toenails up, poor little mite.
I'm so glad you got good, supportive, respectful care. It makes such a difference.