Isn't that a cool word? It came up as a "type in the box" for the Anti-Comment Spam thing.
A vomiting DH, a vomiting MOT and two sicky-sick toddlers. Isn't that yucky? Well, it's life chez nous right now. Last Sunday the DH threw up, then on the Monday Baby B got sick, with Baby A following suit a few hours later. Then, on Wednesday, around 4PM the MOT got the heaves, and I was still at it the next day.
Over the weekend I recovered a bit, but Baby A, who is on a course of Amoxicillin for a double ear infection, upchucked on Saturday night, on Sunday night and twice tonight as well. We took him off his meds late on Sunday, and the vet checked him out today. She said he's on the mend, but I think his little system is still in an uproar, hence the lack of appetite and the hurling this evening.
I am mighty glad I listened to my heart, and not to my DH, and insisted on rolling up my Oriental carpets after Saturday's projectile debacle. Last night he hit the bedroom floor, the hallway and the bathroom sink, wall and floor, and his Pingvin. Tonight he just got the bed, some clean laundry, the floor and his Pingvin.
(Good thing I have those 5 back-ups eh? We are on King Pingvin the III at this time. Old King Pingvin the I is in the wash and Young King P the II is on the line, drip-drying to preserve his fluffiness.)
After the second time, I tried to get him to upchuck into an empty wastepaper bin, but he thrashed around too much. The DH gave me a Look when I carried him into the bathroom last night and held him as he got the wall/floor/sink. He asked later, “Why not use the bin?” I couldn’t think of why I didn’t try harder to keep it neat; I was guess I was too busy with my arms full of screaming, puking, thrashing baby. Tonight, as the DH was folding laundry, Baby A woke up from his nap. I was in the shower at the time. The baby was fussy and unhappy, so the DH sat him on the bed and kept on with the laundry, chatting with him to keep him comforted. Therefore, when the heave-ho began, Baby A was in a prime position to hit the laundry on the bed, then the floor on his way to the bathroom.
Once everyone was changed and the wash was re-washing, I asked, “Why didn’t you use your bin.” He just said, “Yes, now I know what you mean.” Hmph.
I am worried about him; he only weighs about 25 pounds, and he lost almost a whole pound since his pedi visit last week. If he throws up again tomorrow, it was not the Amoxicillin, and I will officially Really Worried. I’ll take him right back to the vet for a more thorough check-up. (After seven days on meds his ears are clearing, so there’s no more need for antibiotics. I know, I know you are supposed to finish the course, but if he’s puking it up, he’s not getting the meds anyway!) I hope it was just a reaction; I know the suspension of the meds was too concentrated, because we ran out before the ten days were up. That is why I think the vomiting is a reaction, but get this:
I spoke to an irritating doc, who was covering for my usual lovely pedi, a few times over the weekend. I called the first time to let him know I had run out of Amoxicillin, and needed a refill. He said the baby needed to be seen before we could get another course of drugs and rang off. I had to call the service, have him paged and get another call back. Then I was able to explain the story - the pharmacy made the suspension to thick, therefore there was not enough volume in the bottle to last ten days, BID. He said okay, okay and called in a small bottle; we only needed enough for Saturday night, Sunday and Monday morning. Then, when Baby A had retched out the Saturday night dose and similarly the Sunday dose, I called again, and asked if I should take him in to the ER for hydration. I said, “My son is having a reaction to the Amoxicillin.” The doc said, “Oh, he’s been on it for about a week already! He can’t be having a reaction, you would notice a rash, or a reaction within the first few hours, blah blah blah.” I asked if I were allowed to speak, and when he shut up I told him about the Monday night vomiting, the loss of appetite, the listlessness and the violent vomiting the past two nights. Then he said, “Well, YOU were the one who wanted him on this drug!” As-IF! He then told me to fast him, and then give him one ounce of Gatorade every four hours for the night, then only give him one ounce at a time every hour for the next day, to see if he could keep it down. I said, “Oh, thank you for your advice!” I hung up and gave him three ounces of water, settled him to sleep, and when he woke up he had a cup of milk and some oatmeal. I am not going to fast a 25 pound (and losing) baby.
I know him, and I know what he needs. He doesn't need to fast, he needs to get well.