OH MY GOSH!

Alright, let me fill you in on our last 48 hours. Monday night and Tuesday were about the same for Aiden. Lots of puking and diarrhea. By Tuesday night we had gotten him to bed, thinking the worst was over. Around 10:30 Brian was quietly watching the news while I read a book on the couch when I felt an uncomfortable stab in the lower right of my back. I changed positions and continued reading for about 30 minutes more, still feeling a slight muscle pain. Just before 11:30 I felt another stab, then another, now a dull ache, all coming within a matter of 2 or 3 minutes. I hobbled towards our bedroom and by the time I reached the bed I felt like the right half of my body was in labor.

I was panting in pain on the bed when I told Brian I was certain it was a kidney stone. He reminded me that I still had a pain killer left over from my C-section and brought it to me. It kicked in quickly and I fell asleep. I woke up at 12:30 feeling like I had slept 7 or 8 hours. I was drooling and when I felt saliva flood my mouth I ran to the bathroom and barely made it to the sink. I threw up 7 times in the next 5 hours in various places around the house. Luckily the pain meds kept the kidney pain to a dull ache while I was throwing up. It was all over by 5:30 am but I felt worse than I did after my induced labor and C-section. Luckily Aiden hadn't gotten sick at all on Tuesday night while I was dealing with all this. Wednesday morning I could barely walk and after a few hours of trying to take care of Aiden, who still had liquid diarrhea, I called Brian home from work. He took over and I spent the rest of the day sleeping, waking up around 8 pm and feeling much better. Last night we were up again for two rounds of vomiting with Aiden and I took him in at noon to see the doctor today.

Aiden was a screaming mess as soon as we walked in the exam room (see: remembers shots). Dr. Farrior checked his ears, throat and stomach while the kiddo had an all-out panic attack. The doctor said we'd done a good job of keeping Aiden hydrated and that he didn't feel an anti-nausea perscription was necessary but he was going to order a stool collection to test for salmonella and other food poisonings. (Lovely.) No sooner had he said this than a river of cranberry juice came spewing out of Aiden's mouth. It ricocheted off the exam table, splattering the wall and soaking his shirt, my arm, his blanket and part of my shirt. The doctor was spared from the mess and handed me a stack of paper towels, telling me not to worry about the table or the floor. Aiden shot out another waterfall of vomit and the doctor said "I think I'll go ahead and write that perscription for you."

Ten minutes later I'm at the CVS pharmacy that backs up to Humble Pediatrics. I walk up to the percription counter soaking wet (remember, Hurricane Dolly has brought in tons of rain during all this) and reeking of vomit. I tell the older woman at the counter that I need a perscription for anti-nausea medication filled and I'll have to wait on it because my son is throwing up about every 10 minutes. She looks down her nose, over the rim of her glasses at me, obviously unimpressed with my confession. (Can she not SMELL the vomit on me? Surely she can see it. It's cranberry juice red!) I trot over to the baby section to pick up the Pedialyte the doctor recommended and bring Aiden back to the waiting area of the pharmacy. He leans back against me, exhausted, drinking water out of his sippy cup. The pharmacists are working at a pace previously reserved for postal employees when Aiden begins to scream and squirm. I stand up and start to sway with him when another avalance of puke comes tumbling out of him. This time it drenches us both. Three more waves of vomit hit the carpet before an employee is kind enough to tell me where the bathroom is. As I drip and slosh my way there (some of it landed in my flip flop) I am secretly happy that decrepit old nag at the pharmacy counter now has proof I wasn't lying about the "every ten minutes" thing.

Someone is in the women's bathroom with the door locked so I brazenly enter the empty men's bathroom. Aiden is already in the second outfit I brought with us and I am out of clothes for him. I strip him down to his diaper, clean him up and then attempt to clean the puke off of me. I am certain they'll have my perscription ready when I get back to the counter. Indeed, as I make my way back, with Aiden howling like a siren, I only have to wait about 90 seconds more for the meds.

Once we're home, unloaded and all the clothes are in the wash, I call Brian to tell him the news. I'm looking over the THREE different stool collection sets when I hear Aiden whimper and I see him standing in a puddle of something that is leaking from his diaper. I remove the diaper to find it full of pure liquid poo - stool collection #1.

Into the tub he goes, while I am wondering how people with more than one child manage these types of situations. We fill and drain the water twice, after he poops in the water before I can get him totally clean and I mentally note that this is his fourth bath in 24 hours. Poor baby.

One-third of a CASE of diapers later, my day is almost over. Brian is off work and headed home to relieve me. (Keep in mind I'm only about 36 hours out from passing a kidney stone myself). Somehow amidst this chaos I have also managed to order the dog's vaccines online and schedule an appointment for myself to see my urologist to make sure everything with my kidneys is okay. Thank goodness my neighbor is having a Southern Living party tonight! I need out of the house!