I hate intensive care. It's the most intrusive, least restful place imaginable. Still, I feel a lot better that we're here.
The Boy is packed in ice bags right now, in an attempt to bring his temperature down to normal levels. It's still over 103, but it seems to be stabilizing instead of increasing. They put another IV line in his foot, as his port is running adrenaline into his Body to attempt to bring his tacicardia (way too fast pulse) in line. It's been up around 200 bpm for eight hours now.
Of course, his pulse drops into the 140's, and he's sleeping comfortably. So, what happens?They put oxygen blowers into his nose. Hello, 210's and a wakeful, pissed-off The Boy. I shouldn't complain - I mean, I got my 20 minutes of sleep.
I just don't want my son crying in pain and begging for juice that he's not allowed to drink.
Happy Hannukah. I'll bet Christmas is going to be awesome.
This one is scary.
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