I have had a bad week. Scratch that -- two weeks. I am a fairly private person, but as the last few weeks have been so horrible I hope you will find it okay that I share it with you.
Two weeks ago my husband lost his job. We are fortunate, in many ways, as while I am part-time my salary covers most of our bills. But bills were not my concern. Our insurance was with my husband and Cobra was more than my mortgage so it wasn't an option. We decided to wait to see if he found a job quickly and if not would search out private insurance options. Thankfully God took care of us and my DH begins his new job on Monday...but it wasn't quick enough.
Last Saturday my daughter, Rylie, began to run a high 103 fever. We gave her Motrin and she fell asleep in my arms. By 5 am on Sunday the fever was over 104 and climbing. We rushed her to the ER. After well over an hour we were taken back and the first words out of the doctors mouth were "Oh, you're paying for this." He assured us this wasn't a charity case but he felt the fever was viral and that any additional testing would only be a waste of our money. We were sent away after paying a couple of hundred out of pocket, knowing nothing more than what we knew going in.
That day her fever held tight at 104 dropping to 102.5 with Motrin, but again going back up after 2 hours. We were instructed to give her Tylenol and Motrin alternating every 3 hours until the virus ran its course. The meds didn't take well to her system so by Monday on top of the fever, exhaustion, etc, she now had a severe upset tummy. We take her to her Pediatrician and I suggest dehydration. They shake it off, but request a urine sample. Seven hours later we were able to supply them with a urine sample. SEVEN HOURS TO GET ONE SAMPLE! They agreed it must be a virus and sent us home with the same Tylenol/Motrin spill, not even touching on the fact that it took so long for her to provide the sample.
Finally, Wednesday night the fever breaks. We take her off the meds and she stays at around 100 through the night and by Thursday morning she has no fever at all. But by noon she's pale, more lethargic, etc -- absolutely pitiful. I ask my husband to go get her some Pedialite, my instinct is too strong now. I know she is dehydrated. Within an hour she has downed two cups. A few hours pass, more liquid, and she is a totally different child. The color has returned to her cheeks. She's playing -- not a lot, but more active.
Today, she is 100% better, but this experience taught me a very valuable lesson.
There is no amount of training, degree, specialization, etc that can trump a mother's instinct towards her child.
My gut told me that Rylie was dehydrated. I mentioned it countless times, but was assured that it wasn't the case. I should have bought Pedialite the moment I noticed her upset stomach. I should have argued with the doctors and bitched beyond measure when the doctor mentioned our lack of insurance. I replay over and over, even now, what I should have done. The guilt is overwhelming to be honest, but I am convinced that God ingrained all mothers with a special chemical known as Mommy Guilt. It runs rich through us and threatens to pollute our minds at any given turn. There is no cure.
So that's my story. This is why I haven't blogged or tweeted or written this week. Monday I'll resume regularly scheduled programming, but I hope that if nothing else this post has let you know that you are not alone in whatever trials you are struggling with. The more I learn about people and the world, the more I learn that problems are universal and smiles are contagious. Cut those around you some slack; cut yourself some slack, and smile -- often.