I swear I should know better than to write overly optimistic, upbeat blog posts. I am really great at jinxing myself.
So we're pretty sure Connor's getting sick. Before I put him on the Tylenol he was running a fever of about 101.4, which is enough to suggest that he's actually getting sick and it's not just me being paranoid. That and the fact that he had nine larger seizures today.
None of them were more than about twenty seconds long, thankfully, and they were all the still-breathing kind, but nine seizures in one day is probably a new record for him and is way, way more seizures than I am comfortable with. We gave him a dose of Ativan after seizure number five. That was also the seizure where I thought to take his temperature and discovered he was running a fever. I'm not really sure if giving him Tylenol helps stave off the seizures or not since he had four more after that, but if it does do anything I'd hate to think how many seizures he might have had without it. I don't know why I didn't think to check his temperature until after he'd already had five. Possibly I wasn't thinking clearly; I was flustered because of the earlier events of the day, which pretty much assured that I won't be winning any Mother Of The Year awards any time soon.
So about that-- after I dropped Connor off at school (he had a very short seizure right before school, which I probably should have taken as a warning) I headed home, picked up the books I needed to drop by the library, hit the bathroom really quickly and was off to my local coffee shop. Then I swung by a little antique store and spent a leisurely time picking out a necklace and bracelet for Ellen to put away with her things for when she comes home. After that I walked to the library, where I browsed for books for twenty minutes or so. I thought I'd go back to the house and get the kitchen cleaned up before it was time to pick the little guy up from school. When I got back I was surprised to see Jer pulled up in the driveway; he's normally at work that time of day. He was throwing the car seat in the back of the car.
"Have you got Connor?" he asked me.
"No," I said, baffled.
"He's had a whole bunch of seizures at school and they've been trying to reach you for an hour."
I threw myself back into the van and drove down to the school, cursing myself the whole way. I'd left my cell phone sitting on the bathroom counter, where it had been ringing away more and more insistently the entire time I'd enjoyed my quiet morning.
I ended up talking with the nurse and teachers and we decided that since he'd had a quick recovery from his (three!) seizures at school that he could stay until the end of the day, and there was no harm done. But I'm now considering having my phone surgically implanted into my body so that I can never leave it at home again. Somehow I've managed to have it with me the other eight months or so he's been in school and I almost never get a phone call. The one day I accidentally leave it at home is of course the day the kid's brain implodes.
Yeah. Mother Of The Year, right here. I'll start working on my acceptance speech, because I've totally got that one in the bag.
I hope he feels better soon.
1 day ago