The Dreaded Phone Call

On Sunday afternoon, while Jeff and I were merrily making our way to visit some friends in New York, we got one of those phone calls you never, ever want to get: Your son stopped breathing and is now in an ambulance headed to the hospital. Granted, my dad assured me that Weston was breathing again, but still. Did I mention I was in NEW YORK?! It turned out to be the simplest thing. He had an ear infection. The problem was a febrile seizure, which I had heard of somewhere in the back of my mind, but honestly never would have thought would have happened to my usually very healthy kid. It wasn't that the fever got so high, it's that it shot up so quickly. When we told our ex-paramedic friend what was going on, he asked, "Did he have a high fever?" Then, "I bet it was a febrile seizure. That happens all the time with kids that age." When my mom arrived at the hospital with Weston, they immediately diagnosed the febrile seizure and then proclaimed how common it was in kids this age. But it certainly wasn't common for either my mom or me (or anyone else involved). Other moms (and dads and grandparents) should be aware of this. Click on the link up there and find out some of the facts. Something else my mom learned and passed along to me, was that the hospital recommended that she alternate doses of Tylenol with doses of Motrin to control the fever. Neither of us had ever heard this, but it seemed to help--plus it keeps your kid from getting too much of a good thing.

Weston is just fine now. In fact, he was doing fine on Sunday night. His fever hoovered in the lowish range until around mid-morning today, when I guess the antibiotic finally kicked in. Now he is fever-free and back to his happy little self.