Things were going pretty well with our summer until Eleanor ended up with pneumonia. Eleven days later she was hospitalized with a high fever and a partially deflated right lung having not responded to a double course of azithromycin and amoxicillin. After she slept the first night in her hospital bed hooked up to an oxygen tank and Kate and I “slept” in chairs in her room, I went in to brush my teeth the first morning and came out to the scene above, what Eleanor sleepily called “a doctor party.”
The mass gathering of doctors and nurses had been assembled because Eleanor’s blood oxygen levels were scary low and her resting heart rate was scary high. One of them, from under his mask and full gown, said “don’t be alarmed.” I stood there blinking and stupid from no sleep and tried to imagine a world in which anyone would not be alarmed under the circumstances.
But that’s the bad news. Or most of it, anyway. Sure, there was a weird 3 AM allergic reaction that had Eleanor’s lips looking like Angelina Jolie’s, intermittent vomiting, a prescription mix up that sent us home with a potential overdose of thyroid medication rather than the appropriate antibiotics and an eventual diagnosis of Lyme disease on top of the pneumonia.
None of that is as important as the good news, however, which is that the second morning we were at the hospital the high end antibiotics (as in: used to treat anthrax and the plague) they’d put her on had kicked in, and her blood oxygen and heart rates numbers had come back not quite to normal, but to levels that were at least regarded as safe and no longer required the poor thing to trail an oxygen tank behind her to use the bathroom. We got to go home, and while she may have been carried in there, she walked out on her own two feet.
The whole process took a lot longer than anyone wanted, then, but with time and medicine she eventually got back on her feet and started school without incident or restriction yesterday morning. All of which is thanks to the miracle of antibiotics, the high quality care we received from urgent care to our pediatrician to the hospital and, I say with no small amount of pride, our daughter’s toughness – you would have made my Dad very proud, Little Bear. Seriously. I did not have “my daughter will pull her own IV out of her arm when it was time to be discharged” on my summer bingo card, but here we are.
Oh, and before I forget, let me also give a special shout out to Kate’s parents and her sister and family who swung into action while we were all staying at the hospital to feed and walk the dog, clean the house, take our garbage to the dump and have Eleanor’s room (and stuffies) neatly organized for her return. They’re the best.
Anyway, before we spent August driving to and from hospitals and waiting for chest x-ray results and prescriptions to be filled, however, we did manage to have some fun. Here are a couple of shots from the non-medical crisis portions of our summer.
Wouldn’t be summer without a trip to the secret beach up in Phippsburg.
Hosted friends to (belatedly) celebrate Midsommar in honor of my and Eleanor’s Scandinavian heritage.
Other friends, meanwhile, hosted us for the 4th.
Stopped to pick flowers at one of the island houses (whose fence has a big “PICK ME” sign on it with clippers, don’t worry).
Speaking of flowers, it was a banner year for our hydrangeas.
Started growing our own hot pepper plants.
Finally sourced whole, unshelled peanuts to begin the recruitment of my island crow army.
The girls weren’t in it this year, but Clam Fest was a lot of fun.
Boarding
Took the Cat over to Nova Scotia for a family reunion with Kate’s side of the family.
With Eleanor unable to go to camp for a couple of weeks, there were a lot of 5 AM wakeups to get my walks in. Good news was that I got some decent sunrise shots, though several mornings it was nothing but dark and fog.
One day when she was able to go to camp, I managed to sneak in an even longer walk.
Turned some of those hot peppers into my first (successful, non-moldly) fermented hot sauce. Mistakes were made, but it’s a) edible and b) non-toxic.
My little helper and I put new shelves in the craft closet, so we don’t have another “beads down” incident.
Speaking of said little helper, check out this stool she made at camp. Kate and I figured she just built the frame and they dropped in the seat, but no: she wove that herself. Studio Artisane rules.
Ultimately, there were lots of other fun activities: bike rides, birthday parties, island dock jumping and even an unplanned sleepover or two. We saw lots of animals from foxes, raccoons and skunks to eagles, owls and ospreys to a surprise giant salamander. We had movie nights, fires in the firepit, drinks out on the deck with friends and hot tub time. A shocking number of baby teeth were lost.
And not, we think, because of the summer’s s’mores.
The crazy medical scramble notwithstanding, then, it was all in all a good summer, because we eventually came out of it one piece. Here’s hoping fall is just as much fun but with a lot less drama.
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