It has been just shy of eight months. During that time he has had two bouts of fever. Each time we crossed our fingers and watched him like a hawk while alternating acetaminophen and ibuprofen like it was candy. Both times he has gotten through without having a seizure. Before this it had been two and a half years since I could say that he had a fever and not had a seizure. Husband and I were starting to think that maybe, just maybe, it was starting to happen. All those doctors and experts kept saying he would most likely out grow them. We started to allow ourselves to hope that he had. He hasn’t.
This one lasted a little over three minutes and he was so tired afterwards. After a cool bath (to clean the vomit from his hair) we put him in shorts, gave him acetaminophen and he was asleep seconds after his head hit the pillow. He snores like a bear which at times like this is very nice. A consistent, normal sound coming from his room means that he is not seizing. We left his door open and got a visual on him ever ten minutes or so. When it was time for me to go to bed I had convinced myself that he was alright, he felt cool to the touch and was calm. I checked on him one last time and noticed he was thrashing around and moaning. That was all I needed to see to bring out the comforters make a little bed for myself on the floor next to his bed.
It was a long night. He did not sleep soundly so neither did I. Around four he coughed. He felt hot to the touch so I ran to get the ibuprofen. Not a minute later it came back up. Crap. Husband helped with the cleaning of child and bedding and we tried again. This time I sat up in his bed so he could sit/lean against me giving the medicine a change to stay down. We have ibuprofen in suppository form just in case, but luckily for all involved it did not come to that.
This morning his fever is still around. He is is good spirits and is currently playing Legos with Carter. I have one ear out for him always and if I don’t hear him I get edgy. He has already pushed my hand off his forehead and told me “I am fine, momma!” twice today. I canceled his PT and OT and called his neurologist so they could update their history of him. I suppose I should call his pediatrician too.
I am tired. I wish I could rant and rave and stomp my feet and cry that I am tired of this and that I can’t do this anymore but that would be wrong because I know that I can do this for as long as it takes. It could be much worse.
Alright, I am done feeling sorry for myself. I will go make another pot of coffee, slice a piece of banana bread and read books with the boys.