I'll Skip To The Ending

Because we all love to eat dessert before dinner, I'll just skip to the ending. And by "ending" I mean the period at the end of the sentence that was our two week long vacation on top of a (quite literal) mountain. I fantasized about posting my images of spectacular scenery, placid lakes, boats, tree tops and happy faces full of ice cream. I will post those stories and images soon. I promise you, because they occurred and they are happy stories to tell.


But I'd like to start first with an image of our homecoming.

                                photo curtosey of Dr. Fabulous's cell phone, emailed to me wringing my hands at home

That is Tink. That is a hospital bed in the Emergency Room.  That's my Tink, hooked up to an IV. My third child in this gaggle of little girls; the little girls I always picture lined up behind their Momma Goose in descending order.  The waify, 4 1/2 year old little wonder of my universe.  She's okay.  She's just completed a round of intervenous antibiotics after discovering a relatively serious kidney infection. 

Oh, my Tink. Oh, my heart.

She is fine. F-I-N-E.  I swear it. Nothing catastrophic. Nothing life-threatening.  Nothing that can't be medically managed.  She's just in pain and discomfort and it will be a rough few days.  The timing was also amusing, as the timing of most sick children usually is. 

Here's how some of the vacation went down. It was a GREAT vacation. Amazing as always. However this time, there were a few bumps in the road. 

Bump one:  The day before we left, Pink spiked a high fever and had a sore throat and general malaise the first 2 days of our trip. Then, it was done. 

Bump 2:  Midway through the trip, I was up yacking up every fluid in my entire body half the night.  Totally hot.  The next day I spent recovering from my fluke stomach flu, but then-- done. It didn't eat its way through the family like the very hungry caterpillar.   Catastrophe averted.

Bump 3:  In the last few days of our 2 week mini "life-hiatus," baby Rella spikes a fever of 102. She's sick one evening and most of the following day, but she's a trooper. Done! All of these near misses... all of these "hold your breath and cross your fingers" moments... they coulda been worse.  They were minor inconveniences, then we moved on.  Until...

Our last night on the mountain, Tink starts complaining about pain in her side and her back. By the time the sun is setting on the day before we leave, she spikes a fever and wilts like a neglected hot house flower. The next morning, for our journey home, things just don't look good.  I won't bore you with the details of her urinary health, but she suffered a reasonably bad bladder infection back in June and was treated, but we've always suspected a continuation of the problem.  In fact, in a diatribe too long and boring to elaborate upon here, I contend that Tink has had urological issues since the time she was toilet trained a whopping 2 1/2 years ago.  Anyone who knows her knows we live our lives in the bathroom. 

After discussing these issues on the phone with her doctor driving home, as she sits in a feverish stupor in her car seat, we hear terms like 'kidney reflux' and 'danger of sepsis' and 'go straight to the ER to be safe'.... Her dad takes her straight to the hospital after dropping us and the bags off at home. They've been there for hours, getting blood drawn, getting IV fluids, and waiting, waiting, waiting. 

He called me all ready for discharge not long ago with multiple follow-up instructions. She got a whopping dose of IV antibiotic and they were going to give one dose of oral as well before she got her walking papers.

Don't you know the little princess had to go an throw up all of her oral antibiotic right after he hung up the phone?

That may change things.  We're on standby again. It's 9:30 pm. I'm not sure how it's going down. 

I'll go unpack our luggage and think positive.  This is my little heart.  My precious baby.  Don't mess with my Tink.  That's my girl.  It's killing me I'm not with her now.  Killing me...

Everything will be fine.  Her bed is turned down, waiting for her warm body to occupy its center.  Then we'll take it as it comes, and get her good as new.