Hell Week

WARNING: MAJOR VENTING AHEAD. DEBBIE-DOWNER MATERIAL. DON'T SAY I DIDN'T WARN YOU.

Thanks to all my friends and family who have been supportive of us through this past week. It was the worst week ever. This is the last time Hell Week will be spoken of.

Sunday- Actually a good day. Hell Week had not yet begun.

Monday- Marc found out a close colleague of his has brain cancer. He is 39 years old. Odds of recovery are good, but he requires major brain surgery to remove the tumor.

Tuesday- Henry wakes up with a low-grade fever after a whopping 4 days of being well from his prior ear infection. I assume it's his molars coming in. Marc and I alternate taking care of him while handling work meetings between us.
As the day progresses, he still has fever but I'm controlling it with Tylenol (or think I am). Nighttime strikes and I give him his last dose of Tylenol at midnight (his sleep schedule is always off when he's not feeling well). I am sleeping in the guest room and Marc is sleeping with Henry in our bed. At 2am Marc comes running in the room saying Henry is having a seizure. Obviously, we are both freaking out and have no clue what's going on. I call 911 and the operator tells us to lay him down on his side so he doesn't choke on his saliva and just stay close to him and make sure he doesn't hurt himself. His seizure lasts 2 minutes, but feels like an eternity. My heart is pumping so hard I feel like it's going to burst out of my chest. The paramedics arrive and check all his vitals to make sure he's stable. Evil bitch paramedic woman endures the wrath of an enraged mama bear when she says, with attitude mind you, "Well......what do you want us to do?"

"Hmmmm...let's see lady, how bout you give me some advice on what the hell is going on?! Last time I checked, I'm not a paramedic and I have no formal training on why a 16 month old baby would have a seizure in the middle of the night."

EMT Bitch- "I cannot legally advise you what to do."

Me- "Um, then why are you here? Your bedside manner is just swell."

Thank goodness there was a sweet EMT guy there, probably a daddy himself, who explained to me that Henry had just had a seizure brought on by a high rise in temperature. He advised us that it would be best to get him to the hospital to have him checked out just in case. I would later learn at the ER that they are called Febrile Seizures and happen in 1 out of every 25 children. They are harmless and cause no permanent damage, but he has a 30% percent chance of having another in the future. He will outgrow them by age 6. The ER doc thinks that he probably still has a little bit of an ear infection and he prescribes an antibiotic. We still don't really know if that's what caused the fever. We're at the ER from 2:30am to 5am. I haven't cried yet.

Wednesday- I stay home with Henry. He still has fever and is now developing a red rash on his cheeks. He's walking like a drunken sailor. I take him to the doctor and they diagnose him with Roseola. Not to be confused with the actress Rosario Dawson. I told people for two days that Henry had Rosario. Roseola is a form of the herpes virus and is very common in children. Symptoms are a high fever for 1 to 3 days, followed by a red rash and general irrability and lethargy for 2-3 days. Sounds about right. The doctor said the seizure can mess with the nerves and muscles and his walking could be altered for a couple days.

Thursday- Henry's in a good mood in the morning and his fever is gone, so I decide to take him to the sitter for the afternoon so I can get some work done. I think things might be looking up and I keep my hair appointment for the evening. I don't know if the week's events have had an effect on me yet, but I make the rash decision of getting a lot of hair chopped off. But it feels good! Less hair, less stress. Although I do feel like I have a little Cleopatra thing going on with my bangs and bob.
Marc picks up Henry and poor thing did not do well at the sitter's. Kid can't catch a break.

Friday- Henry is still not feeling well and I hold him almost the whole day. I have finally lost all control on my emotions and the flood gates have opened. I start crying at 7am and don't stop till I pick up the wine glass at 2pm. The drinking helps....oh the mama juice, how you work miracles. My mind has traveled to the land of "What If's". This is dangerous territory.

- What if I can't get this baby well? January and February has been filled with Ringworm, Croup, Eczema, 2nd ear infection, and now Roseola. What if something else is wrong with him?

- My line review project for work is due on March 7th. I've lost almost a whole week of work. Marc leaves on Sunday for the Lowe's Sales Meeting in Vegas. If this baby's not well by Monday, what am I going to do? I have so much work to do....

I also find out a very good friend has had a miscarriage after a year of trying. This is devastating news.

Saturday- I find out one of my friend's from home that I've known since 7th grade has ovarian cancer. They found it at her routine ob-gyn visit. She had to have an emergency hysterectomy and starts chemo in 3 weeks. She is 30 years old.

Sunday- God bless you Sunday. I drop off Marc at the airport after a tough morning with Henry. I am praying for a miracle at this point. After some time shopping and spending time outside, his mood miraculously turns at around 1pm. My brave, beautiful boy is sitting in my lap, looks up at me with a big smile and plants a sloppy open-mouthed kiss on me.
And I knew everything was going to be ok.

Love,

Lyndsey