I’m going to tell you the end of the story first – he’s OK.
I got “the call” Tuesday afternoon to come pick up G from camp. He was complaining of a headache. When I got there, his head hurt, but he was otherwise fine – talkative, antsy, fine. So I took him home, gave him some Tylenol and turned on the kind of violent and insipid cartoons that he likes so much. HE WAS FINE.
In the next 15 minutes, he spiked a 102.5° fever, his eyes got heavy and bloodshot, and his whole body started to hurt. Then he complained that it hurt when he moved his neck. My 6-year-old boy said, “Mommy, I want to go to the hospital right now.” This completed the meningitis checklist, so off we went to the doctor’s office. In the car, his head kept bobbing. I couldn’t tell if he was losing consciousness or not and it completely freaked me out. Mercifully, they got him in right away. The doctor poked and prodded. At this point, G was having a hard time sitting up and keeping his eyes open.
The pediatrician ruled out meningitis and other scary emergency diagnoses, but didn’t know what the problem was. So he gave G some ibuprofen and sent us home, where I put him straight to bed. 45 minutes later when I checked on him, I couldn’t wake him up. His fever was still raging. He was mumbling incoherently and couldn’t tell me his name. Panic began to set in.
Willis scooped him out of bed and carried him to the car. Off they went, rushing to the emergency room, leaving me alone with Pinky, trying not to let my mind go to the darkest and most frightening places it could find.
20 minutes later, Willis called. G’s fever apparently broke in the car. G asked to go to the bathroom and while they were there, he perked up as if someone flipped a switch. Whatever this was left just as quickly as it came. G bounced back through my door, completely back to normal. By 8:00 that night, I was griping at him to quit jumping on the bed and he’s been fine ever since.
After a stiff drink and a good cry, I’m fine too I guess – other than my lingering sense of “WTF?!”
So today, I am grateful for my beautiful, healthy babies. And for all of the people who were concerned and supportive. And for the fact that we are fortunate enough to have medical care when too many do not. And that he’s OK. And that there’s a happy (although still mysterious) ending to the day’s drama.
Deep breath. He’s fine.