Max has been ill since Tuesday, with what we thought was gastroenteritus or stomach flu. He had all the symptoms, vomitting, diarhea and listlessness. So, my sister and I took him to the doctor, expecting the medicines he gave us would work and Max would get better. Well, they didn't do much, so we took him to the e.r. and waited for the i.v. that would make all of his issues go away. He seemed better, alert and even eating a little. That evening he grew worse, so were back at the hospital. Since then it has been an exhausting battle to try and figure out why his symptoms weren't responding to the treatments. When his belly grew distended and he was in obvious pain, the doctors used x-rays, ultrasound and finally a ct scan to see what the problem was. It looked like he had swallowed a pearl from the scans, but it didn't explain the blockadge. They decided he needed to go into emergency surgery to find out what was wrong. A few hours later they informed us they found three holes in his intestines, with white blood cells attempting to repair the damage, forming the blockadges. They didn't find the pearl. He is slowly getting better,he isn't vomiting constantly (a really good thing) but his tummy is still really swollen and things aren't progressing as fast as everyone hoped, but we are optimistic.
I've heard throughout my life that there is nothing more agonizing and frightening than seeing your child in a hospital bed. I discovered just how true that statement was during this week, when I wouldv'e gladly given a limb, if it meant his healthy return. I've left his side only when I absolutely had to, needing to watch him closely for signs of improvement. I thought I'd known real fear, since I'd been through some scary events, but the fear I had for my boy was bone deep. We're not out of the woods yet, but I can tell you I've never looked so forward to going home in all my life.