Oddly enough, last Sunday was li’l sprout’s second easter, but before her first birthday. We had such grand plans. Mrs. eSquared has been fussing over the perfect combination of shoes, tights and spring dress for weeks. We would debut the ensemble at church, then have a second showing at dinner.
All for naught. It stared with the sniffles and a little cough. Then on Easter, the fever hit. In hindsight, it was a bad idea to give her milk (formula) with a fever, but we didn’t know any better. She still gets most of her nutrition from formula. Anyway… The milk would curdle, because of the fever, then she would throw it up. We would just give her more milk, and the vicious cycle would continue.
I called our pediatrician on Monday morning, and never got a return call. Needles to say, by Monday evening she was pretty weak. Her cough worsened, and with a weakened gag reflex, just about any time she coughed, she’d empty her stomach… Generally on me. Julie called the nurse hot-line and they said take her to the emergency room.
With concern bordering on panic, we went to the Northwest Hospital (the closest) ER. Our first clue that this wasn’t the place to be was the triage nurse had to weigh herself, then hold GG, then subtract. They weren’t equipped for babies.
I was pleased to see that they had a big white-board very similar to the one in the show ER. Though the TV one was much neater.
But I digress. Our doctor was very nice. He was at lest six-and-a-half feet tall, and desperately in need of a haircut. He had a booming voice that sounds just like Tom Brokaw’s. Further, I couldn’t tell if he just woke up, or he was a chronic alcoholic. Probably neither.
Li’l bits was diagnosed with nausea and dehydration (duh), and also otitis, or an ear infection. After a shot of antibiotics, (she still has the bruise), 2 ounces of pedialyte and 4 hours of waiting, they sent us home.
Random fragments I heard through the door:
”He’s swinging his arms?…How can he swing his arms if he’s restrained”?
”There’s blood on the counter.”
”Call Security.”
We got her home and in bed a little after midnight. For the nex 20 hours she only got weaker.
By 8 the next evening she only kept down about 4 ounces of pedialyte. We decided to take her to the ER at Children’s Hospital. We just didn’t want to have to go at 2am. As if to tell us it was the right decision, she vomited in the parking lot. Oddly, I was relieved we were at the right place.
Children’s ER is day to the night of Northwest’s ER. Everything was different. They had no white board… It was computerized on monitors. They were much nicer. Except our nurse – who clearly had no kids of her own. Surprisingly, she was younger and kind of cute, but she was mean to li’l sprout.
Granted, I’m sure putting an intravenous line into a baby is no picnic, but when li’l sprout started to cry, the nurse would say things like:
”Oh… You’re ok…” and, ”I’ve barely touched you.” I waited for her to say something like, ”Just wait… I’ll give you something to cry about.”
When we told the nurse that GG wouldn’t drink, she said, ”You need to be the parents and not give her the choice not to drink.”
To this bit of… ultimatum, I replied: ”uh… How”’
She showed a tactic that was strangely similar to a wrestling maneuver I learned in High School called the grapevine. Employing the grapevine, you wrap your body around your opponent’s using a half-nelson on the opposite side, and straddle their knees with your legs, closing yours at the ankle . Then, when you arch your back, your opponent bends, tightens and is unable to move. From here, a point, or pin is very likely.
So… After nurse ratchett demonstrated the baby grapevine on li’l sprout, Mrs. eSquared pretzeled GG, while I stood ready with a 20cc syringe of gatorade to force through my daughter’s pursed lips and inject down her throat. This painful maneuver lasted about 60 long seconds of screaming, crying (with tears,) and squirming.
Then we got to do it all over again 5 minutes later.
As I write this, I am struck with the ferociousness and strength li’l bits fought me off with. Perhaps she wasn’t that weak after all.
After about 30 minutes of this, GG puked it all up (duh). The ER doctor was really nice. She understood the situation, and ordered the IV.
Three days later… Li’l sprout is sprouting and getting stronger by the hour. Which is a good thing. We have quite a party planned for her on Sunday.
Postmodern Dad 
