Mine was pretty good. But I'm pretty sure my children are slowly killing me.
Between the four of them, we've had a seizure, a full-body hive reaction to the devil only knows what, and a few spouts of flu here and there. Of course, the flu stuff ran its' collective course in 12-hour riffs, six times respectively. On the bright side, said flu stuff was done with all of us by the time actual Christmas happened.
Bit of a downer when dad can't stay in the same room with us for more than a couple minutes at a time, because he's preoccupied with trying to keep his cookies down.
Ahh, the memories.
And here's where I explain the third paragraph.
Back in October, my oldest has a seizure. He gets taken to the ER, he's pumped with a couple liters of fluid, they take some blood tests, and he's given the green light of health. It's a puzzle. We're puzzled, but we figure, weirder things have happened. Probably just a virus or something, right? Right.
Okay, fast forward to Christmas night. Yep, Christmas night. After a relaxing day of giving and receiving and eating and generally laying around, I left my boys playing a video game with their daddy, and 2 hours later, Mike's calling me breathless telling me our oldest has just had another seizure. I'm at the nurse's station, and I have to plug one ear just to make sure I'm hearing him right. Administration is there in their nice business suits, giving out corsages, telling everyone their scripted 'Thank you for working Christmas! Know that we appreciate all your hard work...' blah blah blah. I turned before they could get to me because I was pretty sure my brain had stopped processing all rational information about a minute prior to that. Short of teleporting myself through the phone line, I had no idea what to do. I got my coordinator and told her, rather bluntly, that I had to be home, like, a half hour ago. She agreed, but decided that they really couldn't let me go for a couple hours. I took an early 'dinner', sped home to find my boy in post-icteric stage, limp and dead asleep, on the floor, wrapped in a towel, with his three brothers bouncing off the walls and poor Mike pale and exhausted. I gave my son a kiss, asked him how he was. He came to for a minute, grimaced, and said he was cold.
Mike said that that was the first thing he'd said since he sat on the couch, said 'I don't feel good.' before collapsing. Almost 2 hours previous. I have to go back to work, but I get home close to 8, which is at least three hours sooner than it would have been, and I spend the rest of the night staying close to my boy. He throws up a few times, but by 11 that night, he had a bit of color back, he was keeping down food and fluids, and he was even joking.
Kid couldn't remember anything between playing video games that afternoon and waking up feeling crappy.
So, that was our first crisis. Which is soon to be de-mystified with a full out pediatric neurology follow up in Spokane. Soon. When they call me back.
Next was our baby. Our little 2 year old waited until the last day of break to have his freak-of-nature medical drama.
He's better now, and we're still not sure exactly what happened.
We were enjoying a rare dinner out at a friend's house, their kids, our kids, and an awesome assortment of asian/seafood/oreos, etc. We're talking after dessert, and I notice that our baby boy is pulling on his ears, and they're looking a little red, but didn't think much of it. Half hour later, we're home, getting everyone changed and in bed. And that's when I realize that baby boy has a full body of hives going on. By 10 that night, I'm taking him into the ER, at which point, his entire body is one big red spot. While we are in the room waiting for the doc, this thing starts moving down his legs, onto his back, where before, it was just splotchy, now: full out sunburn. The blessing in all this is that it didn't touch his breathing. The doc got him something of something, and by 11, we were on our way home. Baby boy in bed by midnight. All in all, it only took 48 hours for the hives (and resulting itching and crankiness) to subside.
But now, I'm feeling just slightly paranoid about what it was that brought such an intense reaction. And that next time, it's gonna happen quicker and possibly get his breathing. So, for now, we'll avoid the seafood. That might have been it. I don't know.
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