Inaugural trip to the ER

X started coughing nearly two weeks ago. At first we thought it was a little cold. K had a runny nose and was coughing a little too. But X didn't get better.

This week he started wheezing. The pediatrician said he had a bronchial infection and prescribed antibiotics. But after several days, X still didn't get better.

This weekend he was upset and didn't want to be put down. His wheezing and coughing got worse. He rejected my efforts to nurse him and bit me several times when I tried. (By the way, he got his first tooth!) After I wrote yesterday's post about how he is so independent and doesn't want to be held or picked up at night, he spent the entire night sleeping on top of me and periodically waking up screaming. We haven't done that since he was a newborn.

I called our pediatrician again and he told me to take X to Children's Hospital. He said X would need an inhalation treatment. I tried not to panic, but I've never been to the ER for any reason, or set foot in Children's Hospital. To me, going to the ER means you're dying, and going to Children's means your kid is dying. It's the best pediatric hospital in the country and people whose children are seriously ill fly to Boston to take their kids there. I called my brother, the ER doctor (or, to be medically correct, the ED physician). He reassured me that my pediatrician had said to go to Children's because they would have the necessary expertise and equipment to deal with babies, and said that since X's illness hadn't responded to antibiotics it was probably viral and would have to run its course. He said X would probably benefit from an albuterol nebulizer to loosen up his airways (similar to an asthma inhaler) and if that didn't work, they might be able to try a steroid injection.

Our experience at Children's was surprisingly pleasant. It's obvious they put a lot of thought into making the experience as clear, smooth, and comfortable as possible. I expected to be waiting for hours in a room full of crying children, but we were shown to our own exam room right away. We did wait a while and stayed a total of about five hours, but people kept coming in and out to look at X and talk to us, and I felt they were moving his treatment along. In the end, what my brother said was spot on -- they concluded it was viral bronchiolitis and they couldn't treat it, but did the nebulizer and sent us home with an inhaler. They also did a chest X-ray and confirmed that it looked fine.

I talked to my brother again in the evening. When I mentioned the X-ray, he said that he almost advised me against it in advance, because it was unlikely X had bacterial pneumonia and if the X-ray had looked bad they would have admitted him and pumped him full of antibiotics just in case. He asked why I sounded worried and I said it was because X seemed to be getting worse and worse. "He'll get better, right?" I asked. "Of course," he replied, sounding surprised. "Bronchiolitis is not permanent. It'll clear up eventually." That made me feel better. We all just have to get through this.