Yesterday, I fell for it. Wee Man was so much better — happy, making fart jokes, picking fights with his sister — things were back to normal but for the occasional hack.
This was after a night of breathing treatments every two hours, which was after a night of many trips up and down the stairs as he was getting sick. And this was after two nights of the same with his sister.
My cognitive functions were well below their usual below average on that first trip to the doc Thursday. Usually when a doctor tells me my child needs a medicine he or she has never had before, I do a little research. My smart phone has Google on speed dial. But I was short-circuited. When I was told my son needed Tamiflu to cover all our bases, I should’ve let my fingers do the walking. But I could barely lift my head at that point, much less use it.
And following two extremely painful, simultaneous shots of powerful antibiotic, Wee Man made a dramatic recovery in 24 hours. No more sneezing. No complaints of nausea. Nary a hint of barf. Breathing treatments were suddenly few and far between.
So when Dr. Igettogohomewherenoonewillspewonmeallnight told me Tamiflu “won’t hurt him,” I should’ve realized he was talking about himself in the third person. He suffered no damage whatsoever last night, as far as I know. Dillon was the one up from 11:30 p.m. to 2:30 a.m. barfing, and I was up catching it. We did manage almost three hours of sleep before the explosive diarrhea kicked in around 5 a.m.
Dare I type it? That may have stopped in the last five minutes.
But the Tamiflu is definitely on the way out. Turns out vomiting and diarrhea are common side effects, which I would’ve appreciated knowing and typically would’ve asked about had all the cylinders been firing. One study showed more than half the kids taking the drug suffered from nasty digestive distress.
I guess it’s unfair to blame Tamiflu for Dillon now being almost as miserable as when he was diagnosed with pneumonia/possible flu two days ago. He did start Zithromax last night. But he’s taken that before with no such gastrointestinal terror.
Oh, wait. Dillon’s back in the bathroom again. Scratch that line two graphs up. Back shortly.
On the upside, the new washer/dryer set that arrived yesterday got a helluva workout. The fourth load since midnight is in the dryer now, and everything’s coming out looking nice. Plus, it has this cute little chime that sounds like Willy Wonka summoning the Oompa Loompas. It was mildly soothing as Dillon and I raced back and forth to the toilet all night.
So this morning we’ve got cartoons cranked and Pediapops slowly melting their way into the Wee Man’s tortured tummy. I’m trying to maintain my caffeine-free lifestyle and half-marathon delusions, but I think both will have to stay on hold one more day.
But that’s OK. The runs to the bathrooms must end at some point. That will be a sweet, sweet victory indeed. Wish us luck.