Well, this week was super exciting.
I had to be out of town Tuesday and Wednesday for work, so Elle was staying at my parents overnight Tuesday.
She’s been on the teething bender, drooling CONSTANTLY and on a 5-6 bib per day habit. But, no teeth. Not even feeling bumps along the top of her gums. You can SEE the teeth, but you can’t actually feel them. So – a long road to go still.
Wednesday on my way home, I called my Mom to see how things were going. She says “Elle’s got a little bit of a fever, I was thinking of giving her some Tylenol.”
“What’s her temp?” I ask.
“101.7” my mother responds.
“Yeah, give her some Tylenol,” I respond.
“Ok, I mean, it’s not that high, but it’s not good,” my Mom says.
Super – thanks. I’m three physical hours from home and those are your parting words.
I get home and Elle is feeling a bit better, but still out of sorts. Tired and sleeping a lot.
The next day, it’s more of the same. Her temp keeps going up, reaching 102.7 at one point. YIKES.
I’m in between doctors (seriously, I know) because I left our former doctor and made an appointment with the new one. However, when I called to get her in to the new one, he’s out on vacation this week. Of course – Murphy’s Law. So, I have to go to the doctor who I don’t totally trust. I get an appointment in the next 45 minutes. I’m scared. 102.7 is HIGH. I’m freaking out. What if she’s never the same after this, what if this fever takes the life out of her and she’s not my smiley, happy girl after this? Because she was an absolute CRANKY PANTS. She’s never been like that before. It was disconcerting to say the least.
So, we head to the doctor’s office where – turns out – my unfavorite doctor is not in this week, so it’s the nurse practitioner we’ll be seeing. Never had met her before and if SHE were the doctor, I’d still be a patient of this practice. Great bedside manner, etc.
However, because there was really no CAUSE of Elle’s fever, the NP wanted a urine sample to rule out a UTI. In the meantime, I’ve also told her that Elle hasn’t pooped in two days. She gives me a sheet on making kids poop – water, prune juice, Karo syrup, etc.
Anyway…Do you know how they take a urine sample of an infant?
So, the nurse’s assistant comes in to put a ‘U-Bag’ on Elle. It’s got an opening with stickiness around it, and this big bag to collect urine. Ok. So, I lay a diaper beneath her, play with her, and wait for her to pee.
She pees, but the bag isn’t on properly, so it trickles out and on to the diaper.
As I’m yelling for the nurse for help to collect the urine, I see that Elle is straining. Yup, all I’ve got is a pee soaked diaper laid out beneath her bum, and here comes that two-day-brewing poo.
I’m proud that I didn’t totally panic in this scenario. I simply closed the diaper and let her go.
Clean her up, put another diaper on, wait for the nurse to come collect the two drops that made their way into the bag.
In the next five seconds, on the new, clean diaper, a mess of green-ness descends from Elle’s bum. Sorry – gross, I know – but it was just gross to see, too.
Now, we may have contaminated the pee that we did get. Sweet.
There was a slight amount of positive-ness (not a medical person here) for UTI, but not enough to be sure. So, the NP asks for another try. A different nurse comes in and puts the U-Bag on, in a slightly different position.
We wait. I’d just pumped Elle full of a four ounce bottle and coax two more ounces of water into her. And she peed it all out already.
And like magic, Elle feels better (I know if I’d had a BM like that, I’d feel like a million bucks afterward too). She’s happy and jumpy, etc.
So, we get sent home with pee bags of our own. I’m instructed to try to collect a urine sample, once I get it to put it in the fridge, and then bring it back to their office the following day.
In the mean time, I have a cranky-ass infant on my hands and I’m supposed to collect urine?
I ignore the urine collection task the rest of the day/night. I’m not going to fight that battle right now.
So, we sleep and cuddle and she eats and sleeps some more. Her temperature is now holding steady at 100.4 degrees or so.
The following morning, we wake up and I decide – ok, I’ll get some urine.
I attach the U-Bag the best way I can. I put a diaper on Elle.
I’m thinking I’ve got it. That even though I don’t want to drive a urine sample down to the doctor’s office, that I wish they’d just call in a scrip and let us let this thing run its course. Thinking that I can’t believe that I’ve allowed this charade to go on for 24 hours. However, in the event it IS a UTI, I of course want my baby to get the proper medicine. So, I am going to collect urine. In the U-Bag. And refrigerate it until I can get it to the dr’s office.
And then, I smell it.
I know it’s going to be a mess. I open the diaper and it’s full of poop (no more constipation, at least). The U-Bag is covered in it, there’s no way to remove the dumb bag without hurting Elle OR getting my hands messy. I opt for messy hands.
And I call off the urine collection game.
I call the doctor’s office and explain – as nicely as I can – that I will NOT be collecting urine. That they can call in a prescription, or not call one in, whatever. I’m done with this game. (In my mind, I figure if they don’t give me a scrip and she’s not feeling better Monday, I’ll go to the new doctor and get a better answer).
The NP calls me back and discusses with me how Elle’s acting, how she’s feeling, what my thoughts are (awesome, I like this lady!) and she says that just to be sure, she’s going to call in the prescription. She also tells me that the rule of thumb if there were to be any more green-liquid-poo is 2 ounces of Pedialyte for every watery BM.
Good to know.
Now, call in that prescription.
Underlying all of this — Elle is teething. It’s teething that’s causing all of this. I know it. It’s my gut instinct. But, I don’t want to take the chance if my gut is wrong (it’s not) but I just don’t want to take the chance.
So, anyway, that’s too much about poo, and pee, for one day. But that was my week this week.
Jon’s home now. Which is a huge relief. Having another person to share the burden of stress makes a HUGE difference to me. You don’t have to worry about being the lone worrier — you know you’ve got a fellow worrier with you, too. Which is nice.
Anyway — there’s a post for posterity’s sake and nothing more. My first go round with a feverish baby and I’ve come out older and wiser and a bit more poo-covered than I was before.