Three in a row

Last Wednesday Sam woke up and came and cuddled with me in bed for a few minutes. He kissed on Charlie and was his happy normal self. Then it came time for his morning bladder-emptying and he was screaming in pain, crying and rocking back and forth and just pitiful. The boy who recovered from his tonsillectomy with little to no pain meds was a mess every time he had to pee, and it was happening often. I made an appointment for him, called Pat's dad to sit with Addie and Sam, and took him to the doctor around 11. I managed to catch some pee earlier and hoped that the sample would suffice because I knew it may be a difficult process. It had been too long since that sample, so we spent about half an hour in the bathroom at the doctor's office with no luck. I took him back to the exam room where he promptly fell asleep on my lap. When we got there his temp was 99, when we left it was 101. He was examined, but they couldn't really do much without a urine sample so they sent us home with a cup and instructions to race back within half an hour with said sample. The whole way home he was trying to fall asleep and I was trying to keep him awake while listening to him ask for his bed over and over. He fell asleep as soon as we got inside and woke up around 2:30 screaming because he'd started to wet his pull-up. I knew this was my chance for a sample, but I also wanted to get some motrin in him. I ran for the motrin and came back to an accident. He then started vomiting and I knew any chance for a sample was gone at this point. He fell back to sleep and I started to worry. The doctor's office wanted to do a catheter for the sample if we didn't manage to get one. He continued to sleep and vomit and started to hallucinate at one point, telling me about a squirrel taking his carrot and wouldn't I please go get it. I called Pat to come home and we took Sam back to the doctor for the catheter. He was so dehydrated at this point that the catheter didn't produce a sample either, so we returned home with a bag fastened to Sam to collect a sample and instructions to push fluids. They let us know that popsicles might be a good way to get some fluids in him, so he agreed to drink water and had 3 otter pops. Had I known what would happen next I may have strayed from the otter pops. We got a sample and raced back to the office, and since we were after-hours at this point the on-call doctor got on the phone. He was a little alarmed by some of the numbers from the urinalysis and wanted us to go the hospital for some lab work. His glucose levels were one concerning number and they wanted to test for diabetes. I disclosed his otter pop consumption, but the doctor didn't think it would lead to numbers that high. The lab was closed, so his blood was drawn in the ER. This involved him vomiting (lovely popsicle colors prompting the tech to ask if he'd eaten smurfs), an unsuccessful attempt in one arm leaving lovely bruises, and finally success in the other arm. He tried falling asleep at the hospital while we were waiting and was so happy to get in the car and go home to his bed. As soon as we got home the doctor called again asking us to come right back because his white blood cell count was 28,000 instead of in the normal range of 6,000-14,000. He fell asleep on the way there and opened his eyes when we parked asking if we were home and wanting to go to bed. Sadly, he was there to receive a shot the equivalent dosage of a bag of IV antibiotics. He started vomiting again and had a rough time. Finally about 10 that night he made it to bed, and luckily slept until about 7 the next morning. He was still having pain upon urination, but not as bad, and we were headed to the doctor later that morning. He got another shot, and so did his stuffed monkey, although when the doctor tried to use a pen to give the monkey a shot, Sam looked him right in the eye and said "why are you giving my monkey a shot with a pen?" So sick, but still sharp as a tack, that Sam. He has continued to improve with antibiotics, but all cultures came back negative along with his diabetes test. I'm hopeful that this is really over and not being masked by the antibiotics, whatever it was. This poor boy had his tonsils out in April. In May he broke his leg. He managed to squeeze in this mystery illness the last day of June. I'm hoping since it lingered into July he's filled his quote for this month as well. I'm ready for some healthy months ahead!