The fever
March 31, 2009began last Thursday. Henry was in mid-playdate, laughing it up with his pal. Within minutes the happy chatter had subsided, and I could hear some quiet grousing. Then he left his room to tell me that his friend had to leave. "This isn't any fun," he announced. His face was flushed, his eyes glassy. Fifteen minutes before he had been fine. "Blargh?" I said, and felt his forehead, then took his temperature. 104.
His head kind of hurt, he said, but otherwise he felt okay. He had just realized that his friend was no fun and life was terrible, was all. I dosed him with Motrin. In the middle of the night I checked his temperature and it was 106. "Glorgh?!" I muttered, and gave him more Motrin, because it was due, and went on the Internet to see what I should do about a temperature like 106. Wouldn't that cause his brain to explode? But when I checked again it was back down to 102. I wasn't overly alarmed because he was so damned cheerful. Except he was awake, which was weird. All night, every time I checked on him. "Hi there!" he would call out as soon as I walked into the room. As if it was completely fine that he wasn't sleeping. Just lying around, waiting for me to visit him again.
The next day we went to the doctor, and everything checked out fine. His throat wasn't red; his ears were perfection. His eyes were still wet and bizarre, but he was his usual chatty self. The doctor concluded that he had a mystery virus, and we were sent home.
Saturday he lay around, watching television and visiting the Internet, his temperature hovering in the mid 100s, thanks to the fever-reducing medications. At 6:30 p.m., it was time to give him some more. "My eyes feel really hot," he said. It was the first complaint he had uttered all day, and I was alarmed. I felt his forehead and my hand burst into flames. I checked his temperature. It wouldn't even read on the thermometer. HI, it said. I couldn't figure this out. Was the thermometer saying hello to me? HI, it said again. HI. HI. HI. I kept rechecking. It gave me a number. 108. Then another, because that couldn't be right. 106.9. Then it was back over 108. Then it went back to telling me HI. I learned later that the thermometer will register HI if the temperature is above 111. One hundred and eleven degrees. What?
Within minutes I was putting him in a tepid bath, on order of the pediatrician, who had already called ahead to the ER. Scott was out getting the car, and Henry and I were wrestling in the bathroom. Henry was less than happy about the cool-bath idea, and he had heard me talking about the hospital, and he really felt strongly that the hospital was the last place he wanted to go. Get in some lukewarm water, then get hauled off to get poked? No, that was not in his plan at all. I told him he really had no choice in the matter. He begged to differ. This went on for a minute or two, a minute that seemed to stretch on forever while my brain screamed he's going to get himself worked up until his fever climbs even higher oh dear God. Our friend Jen was there, and can testify to the fact that as I persuaded him to get in the tub, he wailed, "The world is lost!" I would have laughed, except I wondered if it really was. Isn't this how it happens? It seems like a harmless virus--and then? I couldn't let my brain go to that place, but my brain was making plans to go there, picking up tourist brochures and hotel info for its trip to Fearville.
Somehow we got him dressed and found our way to the emergency room. Henry was already less feverish, thanks to the drugs, and chatting happily with the nurse and anyone else who would look at him. He managed to confuse the entire staff with his description of his symptoms. "My throat doesn't hurt, but it did feel heavy." "My stomach hurt up here [points to shoulder] but then it traveled down here and now it doesn't hurt but everything tastes thick." I watched the doctor on call admonishing a mom who was feeding her sick baby soda in a bottle. "If that's Coke, I don't know what I'm going to do," the doctor said. I loitered so that I could see what she was going to do. It was Coke. She gave the mom a significant look. It was disappointing. Minutes later, this same doctor said of Henry, "If this kid has a bacterial infection I will eat my hat." "I don’t believe you even own a hat, you liar," I said to her. No, I didn't. I thanked her and waited for the blood test results to come in.
I'm skipping right over the description of the nurse getting blood out of my son. You can't make me talk about that. I won't tell you how Henry cried out, "I'm begging you on my life!" when she blew a vein and had to try again on his other hand. You never heard that part.
So we waited for a long time while Henry lay there, an IV line in his hand in case he needed antibiotics, Scott reading to him from A Field Guide to Monsters, me trying not to imagine all the terrible diseases that were probably wrecking his little body. But then all the blood and urine test results came back negative. Once again, the diagnosis was a virus, and all we could do was wait the damn thing out. Sunday the fever once again went up to 106, but yesterday it only went up to 102. Today the strep test results came back negative, but we figured that because his fever was gone. Gone! And now we are done being sick for the next two years at least. We've paid our dues. I'm pretty sure that's how it works.
Reader Comments (96)
And I did laugh out loud at "The world is lost!" He is SO hilarious!
So then they sent him home - without testing for strep! Well,that's what he had (discovered upon second ER visit). My kid doesn't like to be touched, so you can imagine he wasn't very happy to see anybody in scrubs or a white coat come into his hospital room.
I'm glad everyone's okay, now. And I hope you're right about having paid your dues.
Of course I freak out when my cat throws up - and my cat throws up all the time.
Here's to no more fevers...
Once my kid Abel had a temp of 104 (which seemed high at the time but 108? 111? Sheesh) but was still running around and bouncing off the walls. He was fine. It was so weird. I gave him Tylenol and it went away. So bizarre, these kids and their fevers.
my theory - its preparing & strengthening their immune system so they never get as sick again (my theory)MiniHipster.com
(and really, coke in a baby's bottle? although it sounds like something my mom would tell me to do---for some reason, "coke" was the magic elixir when I was young).
(The last time we had to have my son's blood drawn it was about two months after he'd been in the hospital and had had to have an IV inserted. It took three nurses to hold him down for the blood draw, and when it was done, he was told he could have whatever bandaid he wanted. He chose Scooby Doo and when they told me they didn't have any more of those, I punched the nurse in the face. OK, not really, but I really really really wanted to.)
I just recently found your blog and I am seriously, seriously convinced that Henry and my daughter Ella are destined to be best friends.
"I'm begging you on my life" Henry
please meet
"I'm trying but I can't be happy" Ella (she said this in response to me saying no she could not have 10 million pounds of mango and I would appreciate it she stopped screaming)
I don't know if people have been saying this for a long time, but he is hysterical-and even though Ella is younger (she's 2 1/2) I hear the same sort of stuff every day!
Maybe they can be pen pals one day-we're in San Diego.
I would have been sobbing on the phone to 911 after that temp reading! I can't believe you held it together that well--and were able to admire the ridiculousness of a world where the other mom in the ER is giving her sick baby Coke. I'm so, so grateful that he's okay. My 5-year-old screams and cries if we so much as mention blood; I don't even want to think what that trip must have been like. I hope this really does mean you're in the clear, illness-wise, for a long, long time!
I do hope Henry's feeling better soon. I remember sitting up one night when my little guy woke up with a high-ish fever. Not 111 (Good God) but significant. He wasn't talking yet, so it was fun trying to figure out what was going on, but he was doing that cheerful thing you mention Henry doing. He sat on my lap babbling at some imaginary person across the room, and then let out what I can only describe as an evil cackle.
I said to my mother, "I know his temp isn't THAT high...but does he seem a little...ALTERED?"
Best wishes for a speedy recovery --