Doctors, Nurses, Pokes and Poop

Cheese has been sick for over three weeks now.  It started with my dentist appointment.  I had one at 4:15 in the afternoon.  It was November, and I kind of figured that my husband would not be working overtime still.  But, this night, he was; and so my daycare provider/friend was very sweet and kept my kids until I got home from the appointment at 5:30.  When I arrived to pick the kids up, Cwow informed me that Cheese had diarrhea.  I was surprised, as was she, because he had no fever and was not acting funny.  We both chalked it up to him being “backed up”, because he hadn’t pooped in a couple of days.  When we arrived home that evening, Cheese wanted nothing to do with anything.  He went to the bathroom, took off his shirt, and was sitting on the couch when he asked for a drink.  I had given him some juice, but it was on a table in the living room, so I told him to go and get it.  He said, “I forget how to drink”.  And just as he said it, he stopped dead in his tracks and barfed all over the floor.  And he kept barfing until all the slime was gone from his belly.  I walked him into the bathroom, and left him in Beef’s care, to vomit into the toilet.  I went back to the living room to clean the floor.  From that point on, Cheese was sick.  Not in a way that was noticeable to anyone but those who know him best, but in a way that he was not himself and he was not getting better as fast as I wanted him to.  I think most parents feel that way when their child is ill, but with all the blood cancers in our family, I worry more than I probably would otherwise.  Especially since this is around the age that they found the leukemia in Uncle.  So, when Cheese started saying weird things, and never ran a fever, but continued to vomit at night, and only at night; I took him to the doctor on Wednesday.  The doctor said it was viral, and had the nurse take blood for a CBC, but nothing showed up unusual.  So we were sent home with some Zofran, and told to keep pushing the fluids.  Cheese was definitely NOT thrilled with the nurse, and told anyone who would listen that she poked him. Of course, with the huge Snoopy BandAid on his finger, everyone asked!  Through the holiday and the weekend, Cheese would drink, but not as much as usual.  However, he would not eat.  This behavior continued on through Monday, which the doctor said was the deadline, so on Tuesday, we took him back.  The doctor ordered a Chem Strip from the Hospital Lab as well as stool samples.  He withstood the pain of two needle sticks (they didn’t get enough blood the first time) and walked away somewhat unscathed.  And we waited for him to poop.  No joy the rest of Tuesday.  No joy on Wednesday.  No joy on Thursday during the day.  However, tonight, he really needed to get it out.  And lo and behold, it came.  With extreme pain, and much shouting, it came.  And then came the “fun” part… getting the sample from the “catcher” into the vials, and having enough to make the fluid go up to the line, and oh my, I now know way too much (more than I ever wanted to know) about procuring stool samples!  But fill the vials I did, and get it up to the lab within two hours (as directed), I did.  Oh the fun trip that was.  Cheese was more than happy to tell the lady at the front desk that he pooped in the catcher and we put his poop in the bottle.  REALLY!! He was very happy to tell her.  I was not exactly thrilled, but he’s only three, so I dealt with it.  After all, he put up with all those needle pokes.