Aw, Nuts!

Paxton had his first emergency hospital visit this weekend. As far as emergencies go, this one was fairly tame, fortunately. We were in and out in a day and, aside from the important duty of catching up on lost sleep, he was back to normal in no time flat.

It all started last Tuesday. Paxton was sitting in his high chair, enjoying some snacks. I had just given him five cashews. After more than two years of keeping nuts strictly out of his grasp, I was finally easing him into a few here and there, still terrified that a nut allergy would surface. Before he finished the second cashew, he began coughing and choking. I ran to him and, seeing my shock, he laughed. Then he started coughing again. Then laughing. I couldn't tell if he was legit or up to his old toddler tricks. Finally, the coughing fit passed and wheezing began. Just a gentle wheezing, but it was with every breath. Concerned, I gave him a Benadryl and we went about our day.

The wheezing continued through Wednesday and that evening, Chris suggested I call the doctor to get it checked out. I'm so used to doctors rolling their eyes at the excessive worries of first-time moms that I was hesitant, but thought it wouldn't hurt more than my pride to make the call. Apparently, wheezing is something that doctors want to investigate immediately. Oops. We were on day two of the Great Wheeze of 2010. We made our morning appointment and saw the P.A. who checked Paxton's oxygen levels (98%) and gave him his first breathing treatment (we made it through that by singing "Popular"). Still concerned about the wheezing and my tale of the cashew choking incident, we were sent for an immediate x-ray in San Marcos.

Thankfully, my mom was able to accompany us, because I wasn't allowed to be anywhere near the room due to my pregnancy. They x-rayed Paxton's throat and lungs and found nothing. We went home, wheezing all the way.

Still not convinced, our doctor sent us to Austin the next morning to get a CT-scan. Let me just interject by saying that, by this point, I was beginning to feel a bit overwhelmed. My pet sitting schedule was jam-packed on Friday and I started to additionally worry about the fact that Paxton was not allowed to have anything to eat or drink for four hours before his CT-scan. That meant he could have a filling breakfast, but his fallback requests of hourly cereal bars and ice water would go unfulfilled. Maybe it seems like a small thing, but the thought of telling my 2-year-old he couldn't have water just seemed cruel. No amount of logic would make sense to a toddler in that scenario. On top of that, the nurse warned me that if Paxton couldn't stay perfectly still for two-15-minute CT-scans (her words), they would have to sedate him. ACK!

Again, I brought my mom along with us for the CT-scan. Her presence is usually much more calming with Paxton than Chris'. Chris is Paxton's playmate. Just this morning, at my OB appointment, they pushed each other around the room on the doctor's rolling stool. I didn't see how that level of excitement would help Paxton stay still for 30 minutes. I brought along our travel DVD player and Paxton watched Elmo the entire drive into Austin. He barely looked up once, so he definitely wasn't angling for cereal bars and water. Whew!

The CT-scan operators saw us quickly and corrected the nurse's mis-information. Apparently the two tests last only about two-minutes each. That, Paxton could do! I felt sure of it. He still has tremendous respect for authority, so I knew he could pass this test with flying colors. My mom and I waited outside the room, me because I am pregnant, and my mom, just as an additional measure of safety. Paxton got a little overwhelmed and began to cry toward the end of the first scan, so my mom joined him for the next one. He really did great, and talked all day about the Bob the Builder sticker he was instructed to look at. The technicians rewarded him with a strip of dinosaur stickers and a giant coloring book.

I had a cereal bar and some ice water all prepped and waiting for Paxton when we got in the car. He ate them happily, and, rather than stopping for a filling lunch, we drove home so he could get a much-needed late nap. After dropping my mom off, I got a call from Paxton's doctor. The technicians saw something in the CT-scan. They couldn't tell what it was, but there was a definite shading in his right lung, indicating a foreign object in there. The pediatrician wanted to see us immediately. I picked Chris up and dragged my sleep-deprived son to yet another doctor's appointment.

By this time, I was close to losing it. I was tired, hungry, worried about my son and still wildly overscheduled. When the doctor told me that we needed to head back to Austin to admit Paxton into Dell Children's Hospital for a surgical procedure that night, I just started to cry. I wanted to postpone the procedure until the next morning, allowing Paxton to get some sleep and some food in his belly. By having the surgery that night, it meant that effective immediately, Paxton could not eat or drink anything. Again, this concerned me more than almost anything else. The doctor told us to go home, pack a bag and do my pet-sitting, and then head to the hospital to check-in. Lacking any other options, I followed her orders.

We were admitted through the emergency room and then began a long process of waiting. First we waited in the waiting room, then in a small room with a bed and a t.v. in the emergency room area. We were bored stiff, and exhausted, but well taken care of. A group called Child Life, which makes sure children in the hospital are comfortable and provides them with age-appropriate toys, brought three small boxes of legos, plastic animals and a Mr. Potato Head for Paxton. He gamely checked them out while various medical professional came in and out, inspecting him. When they decided that surgery was the best option, another Home Life worker came in to talk to him about getting an IV. She used a doll to demonstrate. After all the weeks Paxton has watched me "give da blood" for this pregnancy and the last, he was kind of excited. They put numbing lotion on two possible IV-spots. Then they decided that he would be sedated before the IV ever went in, so it was a moot point. By this time, I'd lost all track of time, but probably within two hours of when we arrived, Paxton was in his hospital gown and wheeled off to surgery with his Curious George and his favorite blanket.

The doctor warned us that the procedure (going down his throat with a scope to find and retrieve the nut) could be a lengthy process. The estimate we were consistently given was "one hour". But the brooding surgeon laid out the worse case scenario that involved the nut dissolving into pieces and the procedure having to be done two days in a row to retrieve all the fragments. With that knowledge, Chris and I nervously retreated to yet another waiting room and said a prayer together. Then, having been deprived food myself since morning, I ran next door to Chipotle to get us all some dinner. Before I even arrived at the restaurant, Chris texted me. "It's out," he said. "Paxton is in recovery". Praise God! That was fast! I got our food and rushed back.

Paxton was just coming out of the anesthesia and we were taken to him. He was crying and confused, but felt much better when he got the first of three post-op popsicles. In no time, he was chatting away, albeit hoarsely. He had a monitor on his finger to check oxygen levels and heartbeat, and his IV-was attached to his hand. They had to put a big splint over it to ensure that he wouldn't pull it out. Still in his hospital gown, he looked a bit pitiful.

He was put in a big crib that had plastic sides above the bars, so there was no chance of a child flinging himself out. They wheeled him to his room and we got him settled in for the night. Chris and I stepped out to eat our food and let him rest. Perhaps the three popsicles cursed those efforts, because the kid was wide awake. After we ate, Chris started to doze off and snore like a monster. I went back and forth on how to handle it as we're wedged into our little sofa bed with plastic sheets and pillowcases (seriously). Finally, at midnight, I sent him home to Wimberley so we could all get a better night's sleep. From that point on, Paxton's refrain was "Where Daddy go?"

It was a long night. Paxton's monitor kept coming off his toe, setting off alarms. Then his IV got wrapped around his neck and shoulders. That set him off sobbing. The night nurse came in often to check his vitals, and he'd easily strike up a conversation with her about how his Daddy was at work in Austin, and he took the Corolla, or about how his Ya-Ya and Paw-Paw live in Oklahoma and we're going to visit them there. At one point, she asked if he needed any water and he said, "no". She then asked if there was anything at all he needed and he paused before saying, "um...a sucker?". He's an opportunist. I was glad she resisted his cuteness and put that off for later.

Aside from the lack of sleep and the nurses misplacing our orders to go home, it all went great. Paxton was crabby and clingy for a couple of days after, but I credit this to being tired. For a first emergency, this one went pretty well. I just hope we don't have another anytime in the near future. Maybe when I offer nuts back into his life when he's, oh, 15...