Oh, crud. Croup.

Chalk it up to bad decisions or -- and this is my preference -- a series of unfortunate events.

Either way, what should have been a weekend full of family fun was, instead, a weekend spent at the Children's Hospital.

Far from a running post, this one . . .

The long story is:

Conal had been a little "off" on Thursday and Friday but, honestly, I thought it was the tree pollen that had been causing runny noses all around town. I guess I brushed it off. Bad decision #1. He never seemed sick, just not completely himself. So, on Saturday morning when he woke up at 5am with a cough, but went back to sleep, and then woke up again and was full of pep, I thought he was fine. Fine enough to travel to see family. Bad decision #2.

At the start of the trip he was all OK. Two hours in, after waking up from a short nap, he couldn't talk -- had no voice at all. And neither energy nor appetite. I took his temperature at a rest stop and it was normal, so we continued on. Bad decision #3.

When we go to our niece's lacrosse game (what was to be our first stop of the weekend), Conal was flushed and lethargic. He still had no voice and he was drooling like crazy. He got worse as the game went on so we decided we'd drive straight home afterward. When we were waiting to say hi to our niece after the game, he ate some fruit, had something to drink, and seemed to perk up. I thought maybe we might be able to stay but then, after playing with one of his cousins, he came rushing over to me with a very scared look on his face, unable to catch his breath. He was wheezing and having a very hard time.

In the meantime, though, we had a horrible experience when my sister-in-law, who was at the game and has been dealing with a bad hip/back, passed out and we didn't know what was going on. As Owen was helping her and talking to the EMTs, I was stressing about Conal. My SIL was in rough shape; she ended up going to the hospital and is having surgery today. Unfortunate event #1.

Later than we would have liked, we left Columbia and started the 2.5 hour trip home. About half-way there, we stopped to get something to eat and I took Conal's temperature again. This time he had a fever. He wouldn't eat anything and he was saying he didn't feel well. The breathing was still bad (although better than it had been) so we called our pediatrician for advice. The doctor called back when we were on the road and, as I described Conal's symptoms, he started to have an attack. He was crying and unable to catch his breath and turning blue in the lips. So, there I was: On the phone with the doctor, trying console Conal and motioning to Owen to, "PULL OFF! PULL OFF!" The doctor, justifiably concerned, told us to go to the hospital.

So, we did. We got there around 7:30. By that time, the poor guy had a fever of over 103.4 and was just wheezing like crazy. After all kinds of exams, it turns out he has croup and his trachea was narrowed and his larynx was inflamed (or something like that). They gave him Motrin for the fever, but after an hour it hadn't gone down so they gave him Tylenol. Then they gave him steroids and an epinephrine treatment before sending him for x-rays.

Then there was all the observation and checking and more poking and prodding, but at 11:30pm we were told that the attending physician had talked to our pediatrician and they agreed that if Conal was stable we could leave at 2:30. Seemed like a long time to wait but we were willing because we wanted to get Conal home.

At 2, the nurse who had been treating Conal and a new doctor came in. Unfortunate event #2. We woke Conal up and the new doc examined him. No fever. Lungs still clear. Heart rate fine. But the breathing still wasn't great. So, she decided to admit us. I wanted to cry. It was so late and all I wanted was for Conal to sleep and, I hoped, get better. I had been expecting to go home because that's what the first doctor had said to but the new doctor disagreed.

At 2:30, when the admitting doctors came to examine Conal, I wanted to die. He was so tired and felt so crappy and here he was being poked and prodded and asked questions all over again. He looked at me with the saddest eyes and said, "I don't like this" and it broke my heart. He cried and cried and it was just . . . ugh.

We got to the hospital room at 3-ish and after being checked in we tried to sleep a little but how can you? At 7:15 someone came with breakfast and then someone to check Conal's vitals and the day started. Our pediatrician came by to examine him at 9:30 and said that we'd probably be able to go home after lunch, which we did.

It was stressful and I hated every minute of it. It was our first trip to the hospital and it made me truly appreciate how healthy Conal has been. I don't know how parents who have to take their kids to the hospital frequently -- or even more than once -- handle it. It sucks.

Since we've been home, Conal's been better. We all took a nap on Sunday and slept late this morning. His breathing is still labored and we have to keep him calm, which is hard for an almost 3-year-old. So, we're all about Sesame Street and Kipper today!

In the end, I'm glad we went to the hospital because Conal got the treatment he needed and he's on the road to recovery. But, I do wish I had made better decisions along the way. Owen keeps telling me that you just do the best with the information you have so I shouldn't blame myself. But, man, it is hard not to!

Wow, what a long post. Thanks for reading! I hope I never have to write about another hospital episode again -- and I hope everyone has a great week (Conal included!).

Do you think I need a run today? You're SO right!!!

~ Felice