Monday, 8 September 2014; One Year and Twenty Three Weeks Old.
We spent another night at the hospital last night.
On Saturday night Ayla developed a medium-high temperature which wouldn’t go below 38 degrees even with Panadol and Nurofen.
Then all day yesterday, Sunday, Ayla’s temperature continued to climb and as it got higher Ayla got weaker, floppier and scarily lethargic.
With no other symptoms apart from having eaten literally NOTHING for three days, my Mum and I made the call to take her back to the ER. While the logicial answer was that Ayla had caught a virus during our Friday night hospital visit, with her lack of eating, aneamia and other digestive concerns we knew we didn’t really have an option but to be safe.
By the time we got to the hospital, Ayla’s eyes were rolling back in her head and her temperature hit 40.5 degrees. When we saw the doctors thier first reaction was also a virus, but without any other symptoms they needed to rule out urinary tract and bowel infections.
I was freaking out. I was so worried that poor Ayla had contracted a bowel infection during her Friday night proceedures and/or I was terrified that the temperature was simply a consequence of Ayla having eaten less than 1000 calories over an entire week, causing her body to shut down through lack of energy.
The hospital was, again, amazing. Unlike the hospital care we’ve recieved previously in our home town, the doctors here were proactive, thorough and vigilant. They asked us to catch a urine sample (which is always fun, luckily I’ve become a seasoned pro at catching baby wee over the past 9 months) and while we were waiting for that they conducted a nose swab to confirm categorically it was a virus.
SIDENOTE: Never before did I know that a nose swab could identify a virus! In all the times I’ve visited doctors and hospitals back home with Ayla, or myself for that matter, no one has EVER suggested a nose swab; prefering instead to wave their hand non-commitally and proclaim “ahhh, some sort of virus”.
Anyway, while Ayla was sitting on my lap naked from the waist down, my mum sitting with a urine sample cup ready in her hand in the chair across from us, we heard a stange noise come from Ayla’s tummy. Then out from her little bottom shot a horrid, watery projectile that scattered for about a metre.
The doctors seemed pleased. To them it looked like confirmation of their virus theory but to be safe and sure they proactively took a sample of the smelly mess. I was mortified, secretly panicking that this new development was a sign of damage from Friday night or that all the stress and impaction over the last four months had finally reached a peak.
I was also worrying about how all this would impact Ayla’s proceedure on Friday. But, after 5.5 hours at the ER we were told we could go home. Ayla had narrowly missed having a catheter inserted thanks to her finally passing urine as the nurse was setting up, and within a few minutes of sending off the sample we had a positive result; no UTI.
While the swab and stool samples will take a few days to come back, Ayla’s temperature had come back down to a managable level after some Panadol and there was nothing more the ER staff could do for us.
It was a sleepless night, and today Ayla is still unwell although no where near as bad as she was yesterday. She’s still has some signs of a gastro bug and is still refusing to eat but the colour is coming back into her face and her smile is returning. I know better than to count my chickens, but thank goodness.