Mummy ok?
Although it hasn't really got cold yet, I know it is officially winter because Patrick has been bringing home all kinds of viruses from day care for the last few weeks. Last week, Patrick, Ollie and I were all sick at the same time, so we managed to convince MrT to stay home from work. On Wednesday, Patrick was especially miserable, and had spent most of the night awake and crying.
On Saturday I developed a blocked ear that then began to ache. By 3am Sunday morning, it was sore enough to stop me from sleeping. We fronted up to the after hours GP to get me some meds (I know we could have done that ourselves, but we aren't really up with the latest in treatment for middle ear infections in adults). But by 8pm that night it was sore enough that I had already gone through my daily allocation of Paracetamol (Acetominophen) so I rang the on-duty registrar at work to get a script for oxycodone (Percocet/Endone). By Monday morning, I was in agony, despite taking 10mg of the oxycodone every three hours plus ibuprofen. I was vomiting, too, and couldn't close my jaw. So we spent yesterday being victims of the health care system, ending up with me on IV antibiotics and getting a CT of my head to make sure I didn't have mastoiditis.
I feel much better today (thankfully).
But on Monday morning, after vomiting, I was sitting on the couch with my head in my hands wincing in pain, Patrick came up to me and gently asked "Mummy ok?". I told him, that, no mummy was sick. That my ear hurt. He thought for a minute and said "Mine ear hurt". I thought initially that he was just playing, but I brought out my otoscope and had a look in his ear.
What I saw made me feel sick. Cold. Just plain AWFUL.
He had a small trickle of dried blood, and a hole in his eardrum that looked a few days old.
The previous Wednesday, we had been, well, a little short with him for grizzling, and for not using words to tell us what was wrong. The poor little man had obviously had an earache, as bad as mine was now, and his rapid improvement was because his eardrum had burst. I felt so mean.
We had given him both Paracetamol and Ibuprofen when he was ill, so we hadn't left him without analgesia, but obviously, in retrospect, he had been suffering badly. We are so used to Patrick being quite articulate enough to tell us what the problem is ("Mine train fall over! Mine foot hurt! Meg mine hand scratch!) , that when he was so sick he couldn't tell us, we assumed he was being whingey.
I'm off to the pharmacy now, to get Ollie some antibiotics: his ears are now red and inflamed (and although three of us in the family having suffered the same thing makes it MORE, not less likely to be viral in origin, I'd hate for Ollie to get worse) and some strong painkiller for Paddo.
On Saturday I developed a blocked ear that then began to ache. By 3am Sunday morning, it was sore enough to stop me from sleeping. We fronted up to the after hours GP to get me some meds (I know we could have done that ourselves, but we aren't really up with the latest in treatment for middle ear infections in adults). But by 8pm that night it was sore enough that I had already gone through my daily allocation of Paracetamol (Acetominophen) so I rang the on-duty registrar at work to get a script for oxycodone (Percocet/Endone). By Monday morning, I was in agony, despite taking 10mg of the oxycodone every three hours plus ibuprofen. I was vomiting, too, and couldn't close my jaw. So we spent yesterday being victims of the health care system, ending up with me on IV antibiotics and getting a CT of my head to make sure I didn't have mastoiditis.
I feel much better today (thankfully).
But on Monday morning, after vomiting, I was sitting on the couch with my head in my hands wincing in pain, Patrick came up to me and gently asked "Mummy ok?". I told him, that, no mummy was sick. That my ear hurt. He thought for a minute and said "Mine ear hurt". I thought initially that he was just playing, but I brought out my otoscope and had a look in his ear.
What I saw made me feel sick. Cold. Just plain AWFUL.
He had a small trickle of dried blood, and a hole in his eardrum that looked a few days old.
The previous Wednesday, we had been, well, a little short with him for grizzling, and for not using words to tell us what was wrong. The poor little man had obviously had an earache, as bad as mine was now, and his rapid improvement was because his eardrum had burst. I felt so mean.
We had given him both Paracetamol and Ibuprofen when he was ill, so we hadn't left him without analgesia, but obviously, in retrospect, he had been suffering badly. We are so used to Patrick being quite articulate enough to tell us what the problem is ("Mine train fall over! Mine foot hurt! Meg mine hand scratch!) , that when he was so sick he couldn't tell us, we assumed he was being whingey.
I'm off to the pharmacy now, to get Ollie some antibiotics: his ears are now red and inflamed (and although three of us in the family having suffered the same thing makes it MORE, not less likely to be viral in origin, I'd hate for Ollie to get worse) and some strong painkiller for Paddo.
posted by jen at 9:11 PM
4 Comments:
oh, the misery. wishing you all well.
oh man! that's so sad! I'm glad your are both on the mend.
oh no! Sorry to hear your household has been ill. Poor little man. Hope you're all better soon.
Oh, I am so sorry. That sounds awful for poor Paddy. Don't blame yourself. It sometimes really is hard to tell their mercurial toddler emotions, from genuine pain and suffering. We do what we can. Feel better soon!
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