There's No Place Like Home

Yesterday morning I took a shower which is kind of a big deal. It is rare that I actually get one in before nap or bed time, but I had things to do, people to see, and place to go.
So I left the house armed with my girls and my to do list and a pretty tight schedule so that we could fit everything in. We hit the grocery store, the mailbox, then a friend's house to drop something off. Next was the pediatrician (to make sure Nora was really ok), then back home to clean and do laundry and get set for the week. It was there that we took a small detour.
After a quick listen to Nora's lungs the same doctor who told me a week ago that what was going on with my babe was viral, announced that she had pneumonia, and it didn't sound good. She prescribed an antibiotic and kept trying to get a decent pulse ox reading, but couldn't get one above the mid 80s. This is bad.
Now let me rewind a bit to last week...We went on Monday and her lungs were clear. I made then cancelled an appointment on Wednesday because I was worried, but then feared that I was being totally neurotic. My regular doctor (not the one I had seen) assured me that he had been seeing a lot of the same symptoms and told me to wait until about a week to ten days of symptoms. So I stayed up with her at night holding her while she coughed and hacked then went back to bed to listen to Tim tell me that she has the same thing he does. I talked about taking her in to the doctor on Friday, but Tim told me that I was crazy and that I should wait until Monday. He knows how she feels, he has the same cough, remember, "she's fine". So against my better judgement I let someone who spends a small fraction of the time that I do with her tell me how to handle this.
Bad Idea.
So yesterday, after 2 nebulizer treatments, her pulse ox didn't improve so we were told to head on over to the hospital and get checked in for a chest x-ray, IV fluids, and antibiotics. Needless to say I was not prepared for this.
Once we got in the car I drove to where I had cell service (my service sucks these days and it is killing me) and called Tim who yelled at me (more toward me) and was totally unhelpful. I then called my cousin (who is moving out of the state in a few days and had many other things to do) who dropped everything to come and get Abby so that I could head off to the hospital with Nora.
We got to the pediatric ward and while waiting to get her x-ray I made a million phone calls to get Abby taken care of for the rest of the day and today. My mother in law stepped up, which is huge, as did a lot of my friends. Not Tim, he was worried about his hockey game that he didn't want to miss and having to work late. He wasn't worried about coming down to visit his baby, or bringing his wife a change of clothes, a tooth brush, or dinner. He wasn't worried about the groceries that were still in the back of my car from earlier. He was worried about his hockey game. (You think that is ridiculous, just wait, he makes another dazzling appearance in this story shortly)
So we go get a chest x-ray, and my poor baby rode through the halls in a wheel chair looking pitiful. The chest x-ray showed that she has pretty bad pneumonia in her right lung, but it should be treatable with hardcore antibiotics. They poked and prodded her little arms and wrists trying to get an IV started, but she was just dehydrated enough to make it almost impossible so they ended up deciding to just give her shots of the antibiotics. Holding her down while this bitchy nurse jiggled a needle in her arm was one of the most awful things I have had to do as a parent. It is so hard to remember that it is going to make her better when she is in so much pain.
She was a trooper, however, and survived that ordeal (I think the visit to the treasure box helped). They ordered the antibiotics and again we waited. Once she fell a sleep for the night they finally came in so we had to wake her up and give her a giant shot in her little leg. HSe fell into fitful sleep after that, and I would be lying if I said it was a good night for either of us.
Not 10 years ago I found it acceptable to sleep with another full sized human being in a twin sized bed. Come on, we all did this in college- the boyfriend sleeps over and somehow you manage to sleep 2 in a twin bed. Why is it virtually impossible to do this with a toddler? Seriously, she should take up less room right? Wrong. Between that and the coughing and the machine beeping when her pulse ox got too low and the nurse coming in every hour to take her temperature (seriously folks, she hasn't had a fever since we got here, why wake her up to do this?) and the fact that I was still wearing jeans and the strange shirt I left the house in earlier it was a bad night.
We survived and the antibiotics are doing their thing. The doctor came in this morning and told me that we could go home after the next dose of antibiotics which she could have at 5pm. So we waited, and waited, and waited. We killed time around the hospital (as much as we could in her mask and hospital gown). It was a long day, but we entertained ourselves. My mother in law called no less that 11 times, and as we were getting discharged by the nicest doctor ever Tim called.
I answered the phone and asked if I could call him back. He said no, so I assumed that there was something more pressing than his child having pneumonia. Alas, he was calling to demand that I tell him exactly when we would be home because his dad needed a ride home from the airport. I promptly hung up on him and unplugged the phone.
So we made it home tonight and the patient is resting comfortably in her own bed . There is still some coughing, but her sparkle is returning and I think we are on the mend. I have so much complaining to do about my husband, but no energy to do it. I am horrified at how selfish he has been and how inconsiderate. The sad part is that I wish I were more surprised by his actions.
As my grandmother would say, "Lord give me strength".
Everyone has told me I should find a new pediatrician, but really I don't blame them for missing this. I should have trusted my motherly instincts and and taken her in earlier and not been so worried about being neurotic. I am neurotic, I guess I should stop trying to fight it.

Did I mention we are leaving for Disneyworld with Tim's parents on Thursday morning?