DS2 was a little grumpy yesterday. I put it down to a developing cold and didn’t think much more of it.
At 11:45pm I woke up to the awful sound of a barking cough. DS2 has always been a little ‘chesty’, but this was worse than even the worst time previously when we ended up at the out-of-hours doctor twice in one night.
He was really fighting for each breath and wheezing loudly. He’d been fine at bedtime, five hours earlier.
I called the doctor and their immediate response was to send an ambulance. The paramedics arrived and put him on a nebuliser but he was still really wheezy afterwards so he was admitted to our local hospital. It’s a huge place and luckily it’s located less than 15 minutes away by car (less by ambulance!).
He had some steroids not long after we arrived and we stayed in for the rest of the night for observation.
Poor DS2 has a bad case of croup.
He’s much brighter this morning (despite a severe lack of sleep), and overall he really enjoyed his ambulance ride and the toys on the ward (at 3am, yaaaaawn).
Aside from the obvious fear for DS2’s wellbeing, last night was a little weird for me. Buzzing in the background of my concern for DS2 was the vivid memory of the only other time I’ve ever been in an ambulance – during my miscarriage in August 2012.
There I was, sitting in the ambulance thinking, my goodness, the last time I was here I was fighting to maintain consciousness and losing a baby. This time around I have a brand new unborn baby inside me.
The majesty of life and all its quirks are a mystery to me. The coincidences and timings of events can be so poignant.
This morning I sit here relieved that we are back home, grateful and in awe of our emergency medical care, and happy that all is well. DS1 is at preschool, so DS2 and I managed some extra sleep this morning.
I feel so privileged to be living it – every up and down is a lesson that you can never predict what is around the corner.
You just have to hold on tight and enjoy the ride whenever you can.