"Hey, I think maybe you should just forget about the muffins for tonight."
"Why? I have to try out this recipe anyway. I don't care if it flops, tonight's good."
I argue with myself like this a lot. I'm pretty sure it's on the safe side of schizophrenia. Mostly sure.... But that little voice was persistent.
"Just the same, I think you should forget about it for tonight."
"I already got everything out, so I'm just going to do it, ok?"
"Ok, just thought I'd give you a head's up."
Lickety-split, I whipped up the mix, set it on the counter and crawled into bed a mere 45 minutes past my bed time.
If only I had known that what that little, persistent voice was trying to get through my thick skull was not "don't make those muffins because they won't turn out anyway" but rather "don't bother making those muffins because you're going to be at the hospital right about baking time tomorrow morning, and you're going to lose a lot of sleep tonight so go to bed early."
I wonder if there will ever be a point at which I hear that little voice, forego the questioning, and say
"You're right, I should go to bed. Thanks for the tip."
Given my track record, it could be quite a while.
Around 1:00 am, Gavin came out of his room crying that he needed to go to the bathroom. I got him by the toilet, pulled down his jammies and pull-up when he started coughing up a lung. The coughing, mixed with a full bladder, turned him into a 3-year old sprinkler system. With each cough he was hitting the wall, the shower, my legs, then the wall again... I hurried and got him on the toilet, dodging the stream long enough to point it down into the water. That's when the puking started. My poor boy, half-asleep and nearly coughing himself into the toilet, had the smarts to at least aim between his legs. That sort of worked. One hour later, we were showered and tucked in bed, coughing [temporarily] subsided.
4:00 am was more vomiting, more coughing, shallow breathing, and a rather panicked mom. Troy worked late at the new house and had slept over there, so it was scarier that I didn't have his input. at 5:30 I called the home teachers to come give Gavin a blessing, as he now had a fever as well.
I was so frustrated at not knowing what to do. Gavin handles illness differently than a normal kid, and I didn't want to get all worked up about something that wasn't a big deal. On the other hand, if he was not getting enough oxygen, that was a very big deal. So finally, at 7:00, I took Aliyah to the neighbor's (thank you Janel!!!) and headed off for the hospital.
We're home now, with antibiotics, a nebulizer, and a fancy photo of Gavin's hazy lung tissue. I think I'll hang it on the wall next to the one we got from last time.....
You know what I love about this limp-lunged kid? That while he was laying on a bed in the hospital, with a nurse giving him medication and checking his sats, he smiled at me between coughs and said "Mom, that lady is really nice." then closed his eyes, and fell asleep. That's my boy.
