About two months ago, Jake had croup twice in three weeks. The first time was urgent care/breathing treatment/velociraptor inducing steroids bad, and the second was under control before we could get out the front door to the doctor.
I took Jake to the pediatrician just to be sure everything was alright. In a not-my-favorite-moment-ever, his doctor started throwing words out like “tumor” and “surgery” at which point my brain slammed shut. As an aside, I know better than to let my doctors do hit-and-run medicine with me and I was really annoyed that I didn’t press him further to get a clear answer out of him as to what he thought might actually be wrong.
The short version of what he was talking about is that croup four times in two years is a lot. It’s slightly more than the average, and whenever we see a kiddo with other health problems exhibiting a slightly more than the average kind of thing, it immediately pulls the “let’s get lots and lots of tests done to be sure” trigger.
So, today was the Ear/Nose/Throat doctor (e.n.t) appointment. The nurse sprayed a dilator spray up his nose and then the doctor stuck this up his nose and down his throat:
This lovely thing can only get up the nose and down the throat to just above the vocal chords. The good news is that everything ABOVE the vocal chords looks great. The bad news is that we don’t know what is BELOW the vocal chords.
Our two options for finding out what is below the vocal chords are 1. CATscan, which we will be trying first and, 2. Surgical sedation and throat scope. We are obviously hoping that the CATscan works and shows us what we need to see.
Honestly, if we can’t find anything, or the results are inconclusive, I may put a halt to all this prior to massive sedation. I don’t think we should be putting Jake through something as traumatic as sedation just as a precaution. Especially when my gut and all the doctors who specialize in throats think that he is fine.
So, that’s what’s going on right now.
I’m hoping that before long all the appointments that involve me holding Jake, screaming, down on a gurney so someone can shove a tube into him and I try to sing to him and not cry, will be over. I’ve lost track of how many we’ve had to do this and it hurts my heart every time. Jake forgets so quickly and in fact, this was him just a few minutes after the appointment:
We are back home and Jake is already watching Curious George and eating crackers. Besides a little bloody nose, he’s doing just fine.
I, however, am going to be having Coke and chocolate chip cookies for lunch. For medicinal reasons.