Josie had a fever last night, but a low one, just under 100 degrees. This morning she woke up with the same fever, but also some extra congestion and a cough. This is totally typical Josie, though, so I didn't pay much attention, but when I arrived at Gabe's school to drop him off, the director told me Josie sounded terrible and she thought I should take her to the doctor. I was surprised, but I figured it was better to be safe than sorry, so I made an appointment for noon.
I took her with me to my annual OB/Gyn appointment (super fun, as always) and by the time we were driving to her appointment, she'd visibly drooped. I lifted her out of the car and noted that she felt hot, and her cough was a little more dramatic. We got settled into our appointment, the nurse discovered she now had a temperature of 103, and when I took off her shirt to cool her down, we both watched her little chest struggling for breath.
Wow. If watching your tiny, sweet, baby struggle to breathe isn't the shittiest feeling ever, I don't know what is.
A flurry of activity ensued, with doctors and nurses and physician's assistants all running in and out of the room suggesting courses of treatment, and all the while the minutes were ticking away and I knew I needed to pick up Gabe at 12:30pm. Finally, they decided to let me go pick up Gabe, come right back, give her a breathing treatment, see if it worked, and go from here.
I rushed to pick up Gabe, we returned for our breathing treatment, and fortunately, or unfortunately, she didn't improve. According to the doctors, her not improving with Albuterol is actually a plus for her future chances of not developing Asthma as she gets older. She also has an ear infection and is going on antibiotics, so we opted not to get her a chest x-ray because even if she has pneumonia, the antibiotics would treat it along with the ears. We left after what felt like a lifetime, with a long list of instructions for bronchiolitis and the ear infection, and a hope that she would feel better very soon.
Today has been a struggle for both of us. She ate a decent dinner, and then threw it up all over herself and me, and most of the day was spent with her wheezing and clearly struggling to breathe, lots of moaning and crying and laying around sadly on her part , and lots of sympathy and frustration on my part. Bedtime was the worst, and I spent 1/2 an hour in the shower (on Chatty Cricket's suggestion) holding her up to the steam and hoping it might help. It took an hour of rocking and singing and rocking and singing and nursing and patting and finally exhaustion took hold.
Ugh. What a day. I'm hoping she'll sleep through the night, and doubly hoping she feels better tomorrow.