Handling It

Apparently, we are handling it.  "It" being Bridget's atypical asthma with hypersecrtion (aka, wet asthma).  We finally visited the real expert in the pediatrics pulminology field today and come some more words for me to search on.  They are good words and I have already found a few things.  The good news, all signs continue to point to Bridget's problem as isolated from a variety uhderlying causes of autoimmune, structure, reflux, allergy problems and most importantly, cystic fibrosis.  We can pursue these avenues if we want and we may, for peace of mind, but nothing indicates a that her asthma is a bigger problem than "asthma."

It was kind of cool to discuss the other issues and get a reasoned response on allergies, reflux, CF, etc explaining to me why he didn't think it was these causes.  It was really logical, explained kindly, and nice to be respected.

And the good news is that although we are getting some pretty crap ass O2 sats---87 on a check this morning--I can get her back up to 94 with her shaky vest.  (87 sucks for O2 in case you were wondering)

So the marching orders are:  keep do what we're doing. Start the shaky vest earlier; we waited a few days this time.  If/when RSV goes around daycare, keep her home.  If her sats go down, but we can get them back up, yay!  If her sats go down and we can't (i.e., hanging in the 80s) go to the hospital.

Of course, I am also exhausted because some lost soul ended up outside our house at 2:45 screaming for help and that he wanted to go home.  I don't want to sound heartless, but he sounded pretty whacked out and violent.  In fact, Dave and I think that his friends  must have dumped him out in the neighborhood because if he'd walked from the main drag, he could have easily gotten help without scaring the bejeesus out of everyone.

Also, I think I woke up slightly before Dave when he first started ranting and thought I heard him say something like "I've got a gun!" and something else to do with his head. He may not have and Dave didn't hear it and I know enough about eyewitness testimony (and how much it sucks) to doubt what I heard was accurate.  That said, it is exactly what I believed I heard when I ran down to get the phone and OH MY GOD(DESS) I was shaking so hard I could barely dial.

When we got back upstairs, the twins asked what was going on.  We told them a man needed help and the police were going to help him.  I asked Bridget if she heard what he said and she replied, "Yeah! He was freaking out!!!"

Also: I hate boys.  Christopher and Dave fell back asleep almost immediately. Bridget and I lay awake for a while, kissing and snuggling and calming each other down.  Her O2 sats were 99.  What?  You don't think I'd check them!?