Well, I certainly got out of the house today.
This morning I took Mary Jane to the doctor, where I learned that she has a nasty kidney infection.
First, there was the expected, yet unpleasant new experience of holding her down while two (extremely competent and quick) nurses inserted a catheter for a urine sample. Then there was the more familiar but also unpleasant experience of holding her while a lab tech drew blood from her tiny little finger. By the end of that she huddled whimpering in the sling, radiating little fever rays from her damp forehead.
The doctor was kind and warm, which I appreciated ("Oh, you’re using cloth diapers! Good for you!") but her professionalism slipped a little bit when she opened up the online lab results: "Oh my God!" she exclaimed as the screen lit up with red type. She immediately apologized and explained that she was just surprised, that MJ’s vigorousness had led her to expect the UTI would be milder. But at the same time she was rummaging through her files looking for the ready photocopies of the map to the hospital, and then telling me to drive Mary Jane there right away, that she would call and tell them to admit her immediately. I wrote down "48 hours IV antibiotics" and "urosepsis." I called Mark, who was home with the boys, and told him to pack me a bag, bring my cell phone charger, take the boys to Hannah’s, and meet me at the hospital. The doctor held up the map in front of me and started to show me directions, but I just read the street address and zip code over the phone: thank goodness for Google Maps, and for friends we know can take the kids on a moment’s notice.
It seemed to take forever to drive to St Paul and then forever again to wind up and up through the parking garage to the first available space, under the gray sky. But once inside the hospital things went quickly. N.B.: if you must get sick, do it on Wednesday mornings. We were admitted and shown to a treatment room right away, and MJ was weighed and measured and in a too-big hospital gown in my arms, and a doctor came in for about ninety seconds to tell me that maybe we wouldn’t have to stay overnight after all.
Mark arrived, red eyed and stuffing his hanky back into his pocket. We sat side by side, holding our fitfully sleeping daughter.
The nurse we’d seen before came back in with the IV stuff, accompanied by a cheerful, bearded, young male nurse. "Hi," he said. "I’m Rolf, the baby wrangler." He wasn’t kidding — it was his job to hold MJ down while the other nurse put in the IV. I positioned myself so she could see into my eyes and held her hands so she would know it was me who had her. She cried and cried while they tried to get a vein. Baby vomit spurted out her nose and we wiped it away. Finally it was done and everyone let go of her. She lay motionless on the bed. She’d given up fighting. She closed her eyes and fell asleep, the very first time she had ever done so when I wasn’t holding her close.
I lowered the bed and climbed in with her and lifted her up to sleep in my lap. Suddenly I was so very tired.
After the infusion finished, the doctor returned to let us know that she wasn’t dehydrated and could go home. We have to return for a second injection tomorrow. I drove home and she and I fell into bed. Her color was already much better; the flushed look was gone. She slept deeply. Now she’s nursing, eyes closed, and I’m waiting for Mark to come home with Thai carryout. And the boys too.
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