Sigh.
Squeak has a cold. One of the nasty ones that are relatively harmless in children over a year, but ugly in babies. I thought it was croup but he struggled breathing so much yesterday morning that I went to the pediatrician anyway. It was only due to the fact that our ped is my friend that Squeak isn't actually hospitalized right now - it's RSV season, and my boy has himself a case of it. My ped considers me a rational and intelligent human being (comments from the peanut gallery notwithstanding) so he presecribed a nebulizer and the appropriate drugs and I get to treat my little beast at home. (They even helped me get one no-cost since my COBRA hasn't kicked in and word on the street is that reimbursement is a bitch.)
(That totally looks worse than it is, I swear.) It's only been a day but he's breathing a little easier with the treatments, and sleeping and eating better. (Oh how I hate these things that have to run their course and can't be cured with meds.)
Ironically, I had one of those mask and nebulizer setups as a child due to raging asthma, and that first whiff of albuterol mist gave me a serious flashback...
Anyway, it's Saturday, and I have a sky. Since Bug is the only one in the family who really gives a rat's tuke that it's Saturday, I'm impressed that just this once I got it right.
(I'm not gloating, Lene, I swear.)
