I don't know if this story falls under tragedy or comedy,I suppose I'll file it in the "Real Life" category. So my new column ran yesterday in the News-Register. I already shared the poison control story that happened while I was on deadline, right?
My column "A Grody Kind of Love" about caring for sick kids and picking a good pediatrician ran yesterday. Sam was perfectly healthy when the paper hit the doorstep. The first bad sign was when Matt offered him dinner, Sam would have none of it. He pushed Matt's hand away with a loud "No!" Really? We kept offering even making a banana-meatball sandwich (gross, I know) and still "NO!"
Despite not eating much, he still seemed fine when I put him to bed. Then, I took my first Theraflu since January of 2006 because the unweanable has finally been weaned. Thanks to the Theraflu I was in a deep, deep sleep at 11 p.m. when I woke to the unmistakable seal barking sound in Sam's room. He's panicked because he can't breathe. I panic because he can't breath. Then I remember I have to be calm so he can breath and I come downstairs to get our makeshift sauna going (shower running hot water, bathroom door closed), take Sam into the cold air. Not better. Finally call the on-call doctor who confirms by the sound of his barky cough and breathing that he has croup and we may or may not have to take him to the ER. "You're doing the right things, just keep an eye out and if the breathing gets worse, take him in."
I camped outside his door all night waiting to see if his breathing got worse. Thankfully, it didn't.
Since I seem to be a step ahead of myself – I'm going to take my friend Emily's advice and write an article about something really positive and lucrative that's going to happen today. Or tomorrow.