Yeah, you read that right. We’ve got the croup. Last night, we took turns taking Samuel potty (unrelated to the croup and more related to the amount of liquids he had to drink before bed) and caring for Matthew.
It all started around 1am when Matthew came downstairs and couldn’t breath. I vaguely remembered having this happen before, but couldn’t think clearly enough to figure out what the barking sound meant. Was it whooping cough? Pertussis? My foggy brain couldn’t remember. So we tried to calm Matthew down so he could catch his breath and I ran for the Mayo Clinic book. (I can’t remember who gave us that book as a wedding gift, but I clearly remember mocking them for giving it to us. Now it’s probably one of my most-often referenced books on my bookshelf.)
The book said to steam up a room and I remembered that working in the past so we steamed up the guest bath and took turns holding Matthew on our lap while he cried and cried. He didn’t like the noise from the shower, didn’t like being awake, and didn’t want to sit on our lap. Actually, the doctor on call told me about 40 minutes later, when she finally answered the SECOND PAGE that he probably did himself a world of good crying like that, since it allowed more moist air into his lungs. By the time she returned my call, he was asleep in our bed where he remained all night.
I took him to the doctor today and got the official diagnosis, as well as the list of things to watch for so that when – not if – we have a repeat performance tonight, we know what to do. And most importantly, when and if to take him to the ER. And what to do when – again, not if – Samuel and Peter (and us) start having symptoms. So I’m going to sign off now – without even proofreading this – because frankly, I’m about to drop and this promises to be a fun night. Not.