May you live in interesting times

Apparently, I have a flair for the dramatic when I'm pregnant. With Elise, I fell in the bathtub at 32 weeks and went into labour. I had to say in the hospital for a weekend, but they managed to stop the labour and send me home.

This time around, I caught a nasty little stomach bug that, despite my best efforts, dehydrated me severely. When I called my OB's office on Wednesday, they became concerned when they heard I hadn't been able to keep anything in me since Saturday, and told me to go to L&D (labour and delivery) to make sure everything was okay.

Upon checking in and being hooked up to various and sundry machines, they discovered my contractions were about 2-3 minutes apart, and I could definitely feel them getting stronger. I was also dilated to a 3, and at 70% effaced.

It took 3 shots of Terbutaline, and 3 bags of saline; but they finally stopped the contractions about 7 hours later. As an added bonus, I was also diagnosed with a UTI and reflux.

But, I'm at home, taking it easy, and little Mattias gets to cook for a little while longer. One thing I have to mention is that my husband is a complete and total ROCK STAR. He has done an amazing job of looking after both Elise and I. While working from home this morning, he wrangled Elise, managed all her diabetes care, and even cleaned the whole downstairs.

All while I slept blissfully upstairs (at least one of the drugs I'm taking knocks me out). What can I say, I married well!

Back from the land of the heaving

On Monday I found out what sucks more than being pregnant and having morning sickness.

Being pregnant, having morning sickness, and getting food poisoning. Seriously, I have never felt more ill in my life than during the past few days. At one point it was so bad that if I even rolled over, I threw up. Any movement at all made me nauseous.

I stayed in bed all day Tuesday, thanks to my amazing husband who was not only also suffering from food poisoning, but wrangling a crazy 2 1/2 year old, AND working from home. Husband of the year? I think so.

Luckily, he didn't ingest as much of the tainted food, due to the fact that his wife is pregnant and greedily inhaled most of it before he could even take a bite. I think he got the better end of the deal, don't you?

We're doing better now, although I'm still pretty weak and get dizzy and nauseous if I stand up for longer than about 5 minutes. But at least I can stand up!

And in case your wondering, it was take-out from a restaurant that made us sick. NOT my cooking, thankyouverymuch!

Joanne's Thyroid: The back story...

Upon re-reading my last post, I discovered that I had neglected to mention that I have been dealing with Thyroid disease for almost 20 years. I blame it on the constant fog my terribly-low thyroid has me in.

It all started when I was about 14. I had become a major pain-in-the-ass, and my Mom kept hauling me off to the doctor trying to get an explanation as to why I had turned into a ranging jerk all of a sudden. His diagnosis? Puberty.

Except what I was going through was like puberty on crack. I was irritable, anxious, slept about 2 hours a night, my hands constantly shook, and I couldn't sit still. I remember feeling angry at the world, and like a was on the edge of losing control. This went on for about 6 months, until a colleague of my Dad's suggested I get my thyroid tested.

To every body's surprise my T4 level came back at over three times the normal level. I had something called Grave's Disease, which is a form of hyperthyroidism.

The first thing they did was refer me to an endocrinologist (which is what Elise sees for her diabetes) who put me on medication to suppress my thyroid function. I think I took about 6 pills a day and they were roughly the size of (but much thicker than) a dime.

The doctor decided to use radioactive iodine as a treatment. I'll never forget that day. I was sitting in a lab-like room in the hospital when a man wearing a spacesuit and holding the beaker containing the radioactive iodine with some tongs. I remember thinking, "seriously? You want me to drink that when you won't even touch it?"

But of course I did. The first dose wasn't enough, so I had to go back in for round two. The best part was I got my own bathroom for three days after each dose because I had to be "quarantined".

Since my thyroid ceased to function, my doc put me on Synthroid and that was that. At least until about 5 years ago, when I realized that I didn't feel as great as I should. Nothing I could put my finger on, but the symptoms were hypothyroid in nature. So I went to my doc, but all my levels came back okay. I kept going back about every 6 months, because I still felt off, and it wasn't until someone told my about a Physicians Assistant in the office that might be able to help me.

He introduced me to Armour Thyroid, and the effect was amazing! My body does not convert the T4 hormone into T3, so that is what my body was lacking. Synthroid is a T4 drug, so it didn't properly address the problem. Armour Thyroid has both T4 and T3, and has helped me to feel better than I ever did on Synthroid.

(I just want to interject that this isn't the same for ALL hypothyroid patients and of course you should see your doc to discuss any change in medication).

So that's my (probably very boring) thyroid story. I'm sorry I stuck your brain cells with all that unnecessary information!

As for my levels now, they are sloooowly coming down. They're still not why my thyroid decided to "freak out" like it did. I had missed a few doses of my medication about a month ago because life was a wee bit crazy, but they don't think that would have caused levels like the ones I had. My blood test last week showed my TSH at 42. My doc said it could take a month for me to start feeling okay again.

Thank you for all your comments and support, they've really meant a lot to me during all of this!

Honey, I'm home!

I think this may have been my longest absence from the world of blogging since I started almost two years ago. Didya, miss me?

I must admit I really missed writing, but due to many reasons, could not summon up the energy to write about anything. Here is a brief update:

As you know, my Mom was sick while she was visiting us. What you might not have known is that I was (and am still) pretty sick myself. I went to the doctor and had some blood drawn and we discovered that not only is my white blood cell count in low (second test in about 10 months to come back with that result), but my TSH (thyroid stimulating hormone) came back at 75. Normal range is from about .3 to 5.

Well, crap-on-a-stick... no wonder I was feeling so supremely lousy. If you don't know much about hypothyroidism, here are a list of symptoms:

* Fatigue
* Weakness
* Weight gain or increased difficulty losing weight
* Coarse, dry hair
* Dry, rough pale skin
* Hair loss
* Cold intolerance (you can't tolerate cold temperatures like those around you)
* Muscle cramps and frequent muscle aches
* Constipation
* Depression
* Irritability
* Memory loss
* Abnormal menstrual cycles
* Decreased libido

I was so tired I could barely move, my whole body felt like I had been hit by a truck, my hair was falling out at a rate where I could have supplied someone with a wig every three days (lucky I have a tonne of hair), and I was taking about 5 showers a day because I couldn't warm up. Since I am irritable about 95% of the time, it was hard to determine a change in that.

We discovered the issue about 10 days ago, but I can't tell if I'm feeling better yet. I had a follow up blood test today and should know more in a few days. Maybe I am on the rebound since this is the first time I've actually felt like writing anything.

Hopefully I am getting better and will be able to catch up with everybody else soon. Thank you to those who checked up on me to make sure I hadn't decided to join some reality show or something.

Listen to your gut... before it tells you goodbye

I like my gut. It's been good to me through the years, so I try to be good to it. I feed it when it's hungry. I try to keep in reasonable shape so it looks good. And I try to listen to it when it talks to me. Except this time I didn't. And I'm so mad at myself I would kick myself in the groin if it was physically possible.

And, if I had a groin.

Anyway, if you read my last post, you know my Mom, who is in town visiting, became sick and I took her to the ER on Saturday to be checked out. The diagnosis came back as a bladder infection, even though my Mom was telling the ER doc that the last time she felt this bad was when she had a kidney infection. And I at one point I remember asking the doctor if a bladder infection would make someone as sick as my Mom.

It was at this point my gut was telling me to push the issue. Except that I didn't. I know my Mom doesn't like confrontation, and at this point it was after midnight and we were pretty tired. Besides, my gut doesn't have a medical degree, so I let it go.

Fast forward to Sunday and my Mom isn't doing any better. She's had flashes of okay-ness, but for the most part is pretty sick. I try to convince her to go back to the hospital because my gut keeps poking me, and it's getting annoying. But we figure she just needs to stick with the antibiotics she has and give them time to work.

On Monday it's clear things are getting worse, so I take her back to the ER. Since it's a Monday and a holiday, I figured it would be pretty light.

WRONG.

We wait in the ER for 3 and 1/2 hours, all the while my Mom is getting worse and worse. Finally they take her back, but they have no rooms, so she has to lay in a bed in the hallway. It seems we have found a competent doctor who tells us that, yes, she does have a kidney infection and it has gotten so bad that they need to admit her.

At this point it's about 7:30 at night, she's STILL in the hallway, and I need to go home to eat and put Elise to bed. After we get all that done, I'm exhausted, so Fred goes back up to the hospital to spend some time with my Mom. It's now 10:00 pm, and she's still sitting in the hallway of the ER.

Thankfully, they get her into a room before she was discharged, and ends up staying for three days. I am so mad at that first doc who didn't listen to my Mom, and even madder at myself for not listening to my gut.

And because every story should have a moral (or two), here are mine:

Listen to your gut (duh)

You make sure you buy travel medical insurance when you travel to another country. Do it. Don't argue with me and don't be a dummy about it. I shudder to think of what it would have cost my Mom if she didn't have it. I'm betting it would have been cheaper to fly her back to Vancouver first class, than to admit her to the hospital.

So now you know why things have been so quiet around here lately. You don't think I finally just decided to shut up, did you?

Edited to add: I forgot to say one very important thank you to my sweet friend, Liz, for bringing us dinner when we were in the midst of all of this, and for bringing my Mom flowers when she went to visit her in the hospital. So, thank you Liz... you have no idea how much you blessed us!

A post where I complain... a lot

If I were the superstitious type, I'd be wondering if my daughter was ever meant to have a birthday party.

Take for example, last year's "party"; interrupted about 30 minutes into it by Elise's doc telling us to take her to the hospital, she's just been diagnosed with type 1 diabetes. Pretty sucktacular.

So this year, as we were away for the actual day of birth, we decided to throw Elise a party for the weekend after we got home. It was all planned; people invited, food bought, decorations thought of... blah, blah, blah.

Then on Wednesday, I got sick. Not just sick, but dear-Lord-of-all-things-good-and-right-everything's-going-dark-no-wait-I-see-some-light-and-I'm-heading-towards-it-sick. But it's okay, I still have my main man Fred to help get things together for the party.

Then on Thursday, Fred starts heading towards the light. The guy who has been sick a total of 3 times in 11 years, who has managed to dodge all sorts of crud that I have incubated including about three rounds of strep throat, Mr. I-doan-need-no-stinkin'-Advil. He's got it too.

At this point, we start contemplating that the party needs to be cancelled, or at the very least, moved to the next weekend. Mother Nature decides to get in on the act, and it's predicted that there's an 80% chance of rain on Saturday. In Texas. In September. My friends, that just doesn't happen here unless it's biblical times and God has just had a little heart-to-heart with a guy named Noah.

And just in case we get any ideas about going forward with the party, Elise then gets sick on Saturday morning, and it rains here like it has never rained before. Talk about twisting the knife.

Do I sounds bitter? Probably... probably. Chalk it up to frustration, I guess. I do have one rather funny tale from when I went to the doctor to see if my crud had a name (and hopefully not one that sounded like Swine Flu).

Fred made the appointment for me, and when the receptionist asked why I needed to be seen, he replied, "she's sick". Straight and to the point, that's my Fred.

So somehow I slipped past all the superb screening, and was sitting in the room waiting to be seen, sans mask. The doc walks in, notes my temperature on the chart (101.6), and asked me if I had been coughing. When I said yes you would have thought I told him I was there to pluck his eyeballs out with my thumbnails.

He jumped up, tore open the door and yelled, "nobody told meeeeeeeeeee", as he ran down the hall. I sat there, feeling very much like a leper.

He returned, from what I am presuming was a Lysol-shower, about 10 minutes later wearing a mask and with one for me. It turns out that I didn't have the flu, just one of the second-rate, run-of-the-mill viruses that doesn't get any press. Poor, un-named virus.

Have we always been so crazy when it comes to germs, or its it just lately that people are going off the deep end? I remember when I was younger, you got the flu, you threw up a little, and drank some ginger ale. At some point, you manage pass it onto your friends and family who threw up and drank ginger ale. Nobody went to the doctor, let alone the press.

Now, I must admit, I'm not so relaxed when it comes to sick people being around Elise, but unfortunately, diabetes makes things a little trickier. But shouldn't we relatively healthy people be a little less freaked out?

Okay, I think I'm done grumbling for now. Keeping my fingers crossed for Saturday. Time for Elise to have a birthday party, even if it is one year and three weeks overdue.

Ugh

Elise is sick. We had a not-so-fun Sunday of fevers, not wanting to eat (which is bad news if you have diabetes), and vomit. I was the lucky recipient of the spew shower right after lunch. We're talking two meals and a snack worth of upchuck. Gross.

If you're so inclined, you can read more about it here.

If you're even more inclined, please say a prayer for Elise. We had a pretty rough day with her, but finally got her temperature down to 100.4 at bedtime, and she even ate a bit of a snack.

Hopefully tomorrow she'll be back to her old self.

Tip of the iceberg

They say that only about 10% of an iceberg is visible above water. Well, Thursday was my tip of the iceberg day; minuscule compared to what was going to follow.

Most of it has been detailed on my other blog because a lot of it had to do with diabetes. But here is some of what I've been dealing with:

I've been sick since Saturday with what has been determined as a sinus infection. Nay, the mother of ALL sinus infections. Sore throat, fever, muscle aches, the chills, sinus pain and pressure, head ache and now laryngitis; this puppy has had it all and left no stone unturned. Today I have absolutely no voice left and yet I'm still trying to yell at my child.

Yesterday I had the fun adventure of running out of gas. You can read the whole story here. I do have to give a huge thank you to the wonderful guys from the Irving Fire Department for all their help. Yay firemen!

Elise still has some mystery rash that seems to appear when we take her outside in the heat (not heat rash though). The doc said it looks like hives and is probably an allergic reaction. My child is allergic to the heat and we live in Texas. Now I know we're not meant to live here.

We're also going through some fun times of major sleep issues (Elise), and major separation anxiety (Fred, I mean, Elise). This has been causing huge stress around here.

I just got a letter back about some blood work I had done, saying my platelets are low, and I need to repeat the test in two months. I don't even know what that means and the letter offers no explanation. And I will not google low blood platelets because I know it will just show me some scary picture and tell me I have cancer or something.

The last two times I have bought milk for Elise, there has been something wrong with it when I opened it. Both times the milk has had the consistency of whipped cream, but it doesn't smell spoiled or anything. It was the same brand both times. And yes, I read the label properly and it should have been whole milk. So I've been without milk for Elise for two days now, and not able to run to the store to buy some. But I must say thanks to my sweet friend Liz, who brought some milk buy this morning when she came to visit. Yay Liz!

And now Fred has gone to NYC until Friday, leaving me here sick and voiceless with a sleep-deprived, rashy, missing-her-Poppa toddler.

And how has YOUR week been?

Who takes care of the care takers?

I'm sick. I had a sneaking suspicion that this was the case, and it was confirmed on Saturday when I received the diagnoses of a sinus infection. For me to give in and go see a doctor, means it has to have reached a point of terminal velocity (can you use that term to describe illness? I don't care, it sounds cool). And it had... I'll spare you (most of) the details, but you can't find the colour of some of the stuff I coughed up in nature. It was that gross.

It's not the total down-for-the-count kind of sick, but it has been going on for a little while and it's starting to take it's toll on my body. I feel like I'm walking through a giant mass of gelatinous goo with shoes that weigh at least ten pounds each, all the while wearing titanium body armour. And carrying about 10 extra pounds that I must have gained from all the mini eggs I have eaten since Easter candy went on sale. I'm tired, my body is tired, and all I really want to do is lay on the floor, with Elise within arms reach because I'm sure not moving too quickly if she gets into anything.

But no, it just doesn't work that way. Because there is laundry to do, mail to open and file, meals to make, a dog to feed, diabetes to treat, a house to clean, grocery lists to compile, bills to pay, coupons to cut, so on and so forth for evermore, ad infinitum.

It doesn't seem fair, does it? When Fred is sick, he gets to take the day off, stay home and lie on the sofa. When I am sick, I get to stay home and... well, pretty much do everything that I normally do in a day. Momma don't get no sick days.

I'm not saying that Fred doesn't do his share. In fact, he is the antithesis of the stereo-typical husband. When he is home, he goes above and beyond in helping out and I know I am so blessed to have a guy like that. Unfortunately, since we are not independently wealthy (or even dependently wealthy for that matter), Fred has to work, and life must go on.

So I'm slogging through as best as I can, but I honestly don't know how much longer my poor body can put up with this. It doesn't help that Elise has been sick too, which as I posted earlier, makes caring for her diabetes so difficult. I'm mentally and physically exhausted.

In a perfect world, we would have some sort of "Mommy Charter", dictating that when one of us is down for the count, others would step in to help out, giving Moms everywhere the peace of mind that they too, can have sick days.

In fact, when I become president of my own sovereign island nation (which will happen when I purchase said island - preferably a deserted one), I will invoke this idea into law. If you want citizenship to this heretofore unnamed nation, you must pass an IQ test, a personality test, smell nice, and listen to good music. The president has spoken.

Sickie Update

Elise's fever is gone, but we're still dealing with a lot of snot and a cough. This is causing her numbers be crazy-all-over-the-place and it's driving me mad. She's also been having ketones, which is not a good thing. To make matters worse, I was diagnosed with a bad sinus infection on Saturday, and I now seem to have contracted whatever Elise has. She's a giver, that girl.

And the cherry on top? Fred is leaving tomorrow morning and will be gone through Sunday. Grumble, grumble, grumble.

I've got a case of the Mondays on a Thursday.

S-A-T-U-R-D-A-Y Night

A few days ago I told Fred I wanted to have a weekend where we had nothing planned. Our weekends are usually so hectic and packed with things, that I go to bed Sunday night exhausted instead of refreshed. I use my week to get over my weekend.

So our calendar was free, save for a little visit to Nash Farm for their Spring Event. They had pony rides, a petting zoo, hay rides, and a bunch a farm animals wandering around for the kids to pet.

I noticed when we took her home for lunch that she seemed a bit warm, but I attributed it to being out in the sun. I meant to take her temperature, but with all the other stuff I have to take care of for her, it slipped my mind.

I didn't think of it again until after dinner, when she was sitting next to me on the sofa and I could feel the heat radiating off of her. She didn't seem sick, in fact she was full of beans, so I wasn't all that worried when I took her temperature.

To my surprise, she rang in at 103.4. With Elise having diabetes, it really complicates things. So I called her pedi, who quickly suggested we take her to the ER. WHAT???

So about 45 minutes later we're sitting in the ER at Children's. Elise is screaming because that's her response to anything that looks remotely medical. Really, with all she's been through, can you blame her? They gave her an IV, some Motrin for the fever, and ran a bunch of tests; including a urine culture. Everything came back okay, which makes them think it's a viral infection. We finally got to go home around midnight.

This morning the fever is gone, but her blood sugar is sky-high and she has ketones. But she seems to be okay and is eating well, so it's sort of a mystery. Obviously something is going on that's affecting her sugar levels.

Please pray for our little girl, that she get over what she has quickly, and get her levels back to normal.

Plants, flowers and trees... why do you hate me?

Okay Dallas/Fort Worth and surrounding area people, I'm going to slag on your hometowns for a bit. Don't get defensive... I get that you love it here. Maybe if I was born and grew up here, I would love it too. I get that different people love different places for a whole bunch of reasons.

I bet if I took anyone of you and plopped you down in Vancouver, you would hate how it rains all the time. You would not like the cold, and be disgusted by the socialist-ness of it all. I'm betting that you would complain about how it's too green, or too beautiful, or the kick-you-in-the-groin awesomeness of it all.

Anyway, onto my point. Whatever you guys grow here, my body hates it like.... well, I don't think I can even come up with a comparison of one thing that hates another so much that they would like to bludgeon it, kick it around for a bit, stomp on it, stuff it in a bag and hit it with sticks, throttle it for good measure, then light it on fire and drown it just to make sure it's dead.

I swear my head is going to explode from all the pressure building up in my sinus cavities. I itch all over; my head, my face, my stomach, back... Have you ever tried to scratch your feet when you are the slightest bit ticklish? Not an easy task.

I itch in places that I didn't know you can itch. The other day I used a q-tip to try and scratch the inside of my ear. Yeah, yeah, I know... you should put anything inside your ear smaller than your elbow... blah, blah, blah. You'd do it too, just to get some relief.

I was thinking of trying to find one of the instruments they used in ancient Egypt to remove the brains of dead people via their nose because I swear even my brain itches. Of course I would modify it so that instead of a hook, it had a tiny little hand on the end of it. Like one of those backscratcher things.

I don't get what it could be that bothers me so much. In Vancouver, we have stuff blooming all the bloody time and I have never wanted to scratch my face off. I just want some relief that is not in a pill form. Here's my plan, let's burn it all to the ground and start over... any other allergy sufferers with me?

Elise and the Technicolour Yawn

***This is not a post for the weak-stomached. Or if you happen to be eating at the moment. Seriously, if you are an easy-queasy, stop reading now. I mean it! Okay, don't say I didn't warn you...

I've come to realize that the pathway of parenthood is cobbled together with various rites of passage; getting peed or pooped on by your baby, going a whole day wearing a shirt that has spit-up down that back and either not realizing or not caring, putting the baby down somewhere and forgetting exactly where. Okay, that last one was a joke. But this weekend Fred and I notched another mark on our parenthood belt when we experienced Elise projectile vomiting while strapped into her car seat and we're miles from home.

We were leaving church Sunday, pulling our of our parking spot when it happened. Elise started to cough, and acting on "Mommy-instinct", I turned around and cupped my hands under Elise's mouth. This had happened before, a little cough, a bit of spit-up, and we're done. It was not to be this time, as Elise let loose with Old Faithful-like power, a geyser of spew that travelled all the way into the front of our car. It was as if Elise was going for the distance record in her age group of the Barf Olympics.

I am now wearing a coating of vomit on my arm and yelling at Fred to park the car somewhere. He wisely navigates the car towards the door of our church. Meanwhile Elise is continuously hurling, over and over again. I am doing my best to "catch" it in my hands, all the while instructing Fred to open one of the back doors so I can throw the puke out. Sort of like I'm bailing a sinking boat, but a whole lot more disgusting.

We unbuckle poor Elise from her car seat, and Fred runs her inside. I was left to try and clean up the carnage that had taken place in our car. It was miserable; I was fighting the urge to blow chunks myself, while shivering, covered in a pretty thick layer of ralph, in the 35 degree weather. About halfway through I ran out of baby wipes and had no way to clean up the rest of the mess. All in all, Elise had thrown-up nine times. Say it with me Ferris Bueller fans... Nine times. I guess she subscribes to the "better out than in" philosophy.

Fred brought Elise back, cleaned up to the best of his ability, and we strapped her back into the car seat. I was just hoping we could get home without further tossing-of-the-cookies. Because of the cold weather, we couldn't put down the windows, so we drove home breathing in the smell of sick.

I'm happy to say we drove the rest of the way home without incident, but I have learned my lesson. When Elise went down for her nap later that day, I immediately drove to the store to buy supplies for an "Emergency Clean-up Kit". I shall never be caught unprepared again.

Sorry if this post was a little gross for you to read. For some reason, vomit and all related words have always made me laugh. Given this opportunity to write about it and use all my various synonyms for up-chuck... well, I just couldn't pass that up.

Et tu, 2009?

I don't know how your New Years went, but mine started off with the crud. A sore throat. Nausea. Chills. Fever. Coughing. And a whole lotta sinus pain, just for kicks.

Actually, since the symptoms started about two hours before the clock struck midnight, I'm blaming this on 2008.

Sigh...

So after a few days with great numbers, it looks like Elise has come down with some sort of bug. She's been really congested and has a temperature of almost 102. Being sick, and being sick and having diabetes are two totally different things. It can elevate her BG, cause her to throw out ketones, plus we may have to deal with her not wanting to eat because she feels so bad and that is a whole new level of difficult.

So far she's handling it like the star that she is and we haven't had any issues with eating. I'm praying that it stays that way, and for a speedy recovery.

Once again, I'm asking if you would pray with me.

Feeling Better

Thank you to everyone who has been praying for Elise. Yesterday we went back to the doctor to do some more tests. They did a urine test, and drew some blood. Poor Elise was catheterized for the urine test and had to be strapped down when they took her blood. But the doctor called back last night with some good news, the first set of results show no bacteria in her urine and they didn't find anything abnormal in the blood test. We should know more in a few days. Plus her fever has not gone above 99.5 since Sunday night! I am so happy to have my baby girl back to almost normal.

Fever... but no cowbell

It's been a bit of a rough week... make that 4 or 5 rough weeks. Poor Elise has been battling a UTI (urinary tract infection), her second since she was born. Actually, I guess technically it's her third, since they found more bacteria after she finished up her antibiotics two weeks ago and had to start her on yet another round of antibiotics.

It all started about 5 weeks ago when I noticed she was feeling a bit warm one evening. So I took her temperature and noticed it was 100.7. Not high enough to get excited about, but definitely something to watch. So I started to track her temps and noticed while they would start off normal in the mornings, they would always rise through the day, and spike right before bedtime... but always in the low-grade range.

I mentioned it to the doc during Elise's 9 month well child visit, so she decided to do a urine test (because of Elise's history with UTIs), and found bacteria. She started her on antibiotics, but the fever still stuck around. Plus she was just not acting like herself... cranky and out of sorts. So after another test, and more bacteria and more antibiotics, Elise is STILL running a low grade fever.

I say last week was tough because I had to take her for an renal ultrasound (to make sure her kidneys were okay - and they were) on Monday. It's not that big of a deal, but try to tell that to a 9 month old who has no idea why a stranger is pushing some strange object on her tummy. They did allow me to lie on the table with her, which calmed her down a lot.

Then on Friday, we had to take her for a CT scan, which would give us a better look at her kidneys, to make sure there wasn't an infection in there. The worst part was, they had to sedate her. I was really worried about the effect it would have on Elise, but she had no side effects from the sedation. We got the results back and everything looks normal. Except that she's still running a fever.

So I'm frustrated because we have done all these tests on her, stuffed her full of antibiotics and we're at the exact same place we were 5 weeks ago, except we know what it isn't, I suppose. Please pray for Elise... we need to figure this out.

Elise playing at the hospital, waiting for her CT scan

P.S. It's not teething