Last month, Ben had a really bad asthma event, triggered by a mild cold. Even with breathing treatments at home, he was wheezing and coughing so badly that he could not keep any food or liquids down. We took him to the doctor, and he was given multiple breathing treatments. With no sign of improvement, the doctor ordered him to be whisked away by ambulance to Children’s.
Nothing quite takes your breath away like seeing your wide-eyed, 1-year-old strapped into a car seat, strapped to a stretcher, being loaded into an ambulance by two burly men. All alone, no mommy. Even Luke sensed that this was not quite right, and threw out questions left and right, as we followed the ambulance to the hospital.
“Mom. Did they shut the ambulance door on his tootsies?”
“Mom. If Ben cries, will the men say, ‘It’s okay, Ben’?”
“Mom. Does Ben have any toys to hold?”
After several hours in the ER, he was breathing better and able to sip some liquids. We took him home and he was a sad, little, limp fish the rest of the day. We gave him more breathing treatments, and by late night, he perked up a bit.
It was quite the roller coaster ride.
And then, the catastrophe occurred: Ben LOST his favorite lovie (!!!!). He has about five different Tiggers, and he loves the smallest one. Particularly, the ears. He likes to chew on the ears constantly, especially since he stopped sucking his thumb (another catastrophe a few months ago).
Little Tigger was completely lost. One minute we had him…then he vanished. The house was turned upside-down with no luck. Ben went to bed and looked vainly around for his favorite lovie. Eventually, he was a good sport and snuggled with big Tigger instead of little Tigger.
I drove to the store at 9pm and was unable to find a match, even with three store clerks searching and helpfully proclaiming that they had four in the store. We ordered one online, and I also bought a substitute.
The next day, I introduced it to Ben. Luke thought it was hilarious and dubbed it, “Tigger in a dress”. Ben immediately checked out the ears, and deemed them tasty.
We also found little Tigger, carelessly tossed into a laundry bin (by Ben, I’m positive). The reunion was joyous, although I was a tad grouchy about the stuffed animal scrambling I did the previous night. A few days later, little Tigger 2.0 arrived, considerably brighter and fresher than little Tigger 1.0.
The spare Tigger is tucked away in my closet. Hopefully his presence will avert any future catastrophes.
Ben is also on preventative breathing treatments, and thankfully, they are doing their job. I don’t think I can take any more catastrophes for at least a month.