8:30 came and he was not any better. He and I loaded up and headed off to Methodist Urgent Care. When we got there, his pulse ox, best as I could tell (because they never tell you what the numbers are) was lingering between 93-94. (Above 95 is where they want to see it.)
They gave him a breathing treatment there along with some oxygen. His numbers were temporarily better but he was still laboring to breathe. So much so that you could make out nearly every rib each time he breathed in. (This is called pulling.) They wanted to x-ray him to look for pneumonia.
X-Ray? Okay. No problem. Wrong! I carried him into the radiology room where the lady informs me that we must use "the pigg-o-stat". I nodded as if I knew what the heck she was talking about. Then she pointed to a modernized mid-evil torture contraption device. My half grin immediately turned to fear. Suspecting that I might bolt through the door and head for the car at any moment, she tried to convince me. "Since he is so young, we must set him in this to capture a clear film." "Oh!" I replied. "The last time we were here, I just hugged him tightly. Any way we can just do that?" She rejected my attempt to resolve the situation in a win-win fashion.
We returned to our room. His pulse ox (again, from what I could tell) was now hovering around 94-95 but he was still "pulling" really hard to breathe. The nurse came in to tell me that he was going to get an I.V. with some fluids and also a steroid that would work faster than any other form of medication they could give him. At this point, I knew we were heading for the hospital. I declined. I knew an I.V. meant we would have to travel by ambulance. The doctor came in to talk to me. She explained that he definitely had pneumonia on the lower right side and he is not safe to transport, except by ambulance.
Since I have been through this with him twice before, I felt like I had experience to make an informed decision with. I still declined the ambulance and explained that I would be happy to sign whatever papers necessary. That's when her tone changed. She began to speak as though Hawkins was about to die and I was taking a serious gamble with his life. Then they scurried me out of the door. "They're expecting you. I've already spoken with the ER doctor. Goodnight."
Hawkins and I stopped by home to pick up my (most important) breast pump, a few snacks, and a change of clothes. We've never been sent to the hospital and not admitted. Also, I was waiting until after midnight to arrive in efforts to avoid being charged for a full day that only had 30 minutes left in it.
When we arrived at the E.R. shortly after midnight, they had no idea who we were. (Thought they were expecting us.) The triage nurse took his vitals. Pulse/ox 97. Seriously?! I was relieved to see such a number but then wondered what in the world that minor med doctor was talking about. We've never had to wait in the E.R. before. The two other times we have been through this, his pulse/ox has been low enough that we immediately got a bed. Well, tonight, he looked like a perfectly healthy kid = wait in the waiting room like everyone else.
It's never a good sign when you've been sitting in the waiting room for two hours and they have not called a single person back the whole time you've been there. And as you listen to all the sick-ies around you, you begin to wonder if you are going to leave sicker than when you arrived. Hawkins slept on me for a good three hours. By 4:00 am, I was spent and he was wide awake. I had been up since 1:00 am the night before. I sat him in a chair beside me. He watched Chuggington while I contorted my body in such a way to allow me some shut eye. Twenty minutes later, "Hawkins Schwartz! Hawkins Schwartz!"
Long story short. He did not have pneumonia. It was a bad film. Hmmm. Thought medieval torture device was to produce clear film? Oxygen was good enough that he just needed one breathing treatment. He received a steroid shot and then we were healthy enough to go home. We snuggled together on the bed and just as I dozed off to sleep, the nurse arrived with our discharge papers.
