One Tough Day

So it looks like I jinxed myself with my last blog.

There I was, trying to explain how hard it was to watch Finley suffer from a sore throat; not knowing that brewing under that tender esophagus was something much more sinister.

The good news was that the sore throat definitely went away. The bad news was that the fever reappeared Monday night and into Tuesday morning. Plus, she was tugging on her ear… From experience, this told us it was time to go to the doctor and see if she had an ear infection (We’ve done this routine twice before).

So, after a dropper-full of Tylenol, we headed out to the pediatrician and one of Finley’s least favorite pastimes… letting someone look in her ears. And after holding her down during the dreaded peek into her ears, it was determined – to my surprise – there was no infection. They told me to watch her temperature and keep with the Tylenol.

Then, as we were settling her down for bed, Heather discovered something. Finley was having trouble moving her head, because her neck was so sore. She also discovered a tiny lump on Finley’s neck, under her ear. Finley wasn’t a big fan of us checking it out, which told us it was tender.

The first thing I thought was that maybe she had slept wrong and had a crick or a knot in a muscle on her neck. She was responding well to the Tylenol, her temperature was near normal, and we were hoping that one more good night of sleep would help her push through it. Then Wednesday morning hit.

In our normal routine, Heather takes off for school fairly early and I’ll get up an hour or so after that. If I’m lucky, I can get all my stuff together by the time I hear Finley starting to wake. The first part was about the same, but THIS morning I woke up to hear a screaming girl and rushed to her room.

There she was, her neck so sore she couldn’t sit up, and crying away. I gently lifted her out of her crib and was able to get her to calm down a bit, but her fever was back up. I could tell by looking in her eyes that daycare was out of the question and there was probably a bit more going on than a sore neck.

Heather checked in on her way to school and called the doctor’s office to see what their take on this would be. She had to leave a message, but they called me back fairly quickly. After describing what was going on and my theory of a crick in her neck, the nurse said it is very uncommon for kids her age to have neck problems and that I should take her to the emergency room.

We have been very, very lucky with Finley. She is now 2 years and three months old and this was the first time we’d ever ventured to an ER. I don’t want to take her there, again. Don’t get me wrong, the folks there were very helpful and it’s a very nice place. It’s just that the concept of GOING to the emergency room is probably worse than actually being there.

I suddenly had to change my mind set and get us both dressed and ready to go. And as I’m doing these basic things, I’m telling myself not to freak out… to quit thinking all these worst-case scenarios of what’s wrong with her… and remind myself that nothing has been diagnosed. I literally had to stop, take a deep breath, and tell myself to be the strong, tough daddy for a girl who was probably going to be just as scared as I was from all of this. It was one of the hardest things I’ve ever had to do. But I did it.

So, off to the hospital we went. By this time, Finley was in a bit of a daze – between the fever and the pain, she was very lethargic and fragile – not a surprise. All of her usual kid energy was gone, fighting the sickness in her body. She was not my little girl, at all.

One thing I have to say is that if you have to go to the ER, go on a Wednesday morning on a nice day. Not only was there nobody else there, waiting, but the staff was in a good mood. I also have to say that for all of the things we went through in that first hour… all the poking and prodding and questions and examinations, Finley was a trooper. Sure she was scared and upset, but she let them do their job with a minimum of fuss. I think this was because of two things: 1) I think deep down she realized that anything is better than being sick. 2) Daddy was here. Which is why I had to be strong.

I won’t lie. I hated every bit of it. Not the people or the place… the situation. Two hours of sitting in an ER examination room wondering what’s wrong with your child is no fun at all. You don’t want to think bad things. You try to stay positive. It’s so hard.

Finally, after a couple of X-Rays are taken, we find out that her lymph nodes are infected. Whatever cold she had the week before somehow settled in the back of her neck and caused them to swell – which explained the fever, the sore throat, and what we thought was an ear ache. And that was it. Thank goodness, that was it.

A few days of children’s Motrin and some Amoxicillin later, our girl has returned to her normal, playful, crazy self. I don’t even mind the occasional tantrum, these days. At least I know she’s well.

Looking back at the whole deal, it seems like a lot of worry over a little thing. But, really… is there any such thing as a parent? Last week I said how helpless I felt as I watched her in pain. This time around, that helplessness was replaced by fear. Sure I was scared. Who wouldn’t be? But I had to keep telling myself that until something had been diagnosed, there was nothing to be afraid of. It wasn’t easy, but it was my job.

When we got home from our morning trip to the hospital, there were two people who were exhausted. The tough little girl who was battling bacteria and her dad – that tough guy who stood over her crib as she fell straight to sleep. No, those aren’t tears in his eyes. Tough guys don’t cry.