Finale

I realize I never updated the expanded Internet community on Lolo’s digestive system (which I talked about here and here). Last Friday it all came to an end and we were once again able to re-enter society. It was as if someone flipped the switch on her battery. One minute she was defeated and lethargic, and the next she was walking around wobbly-style requesting vast amounts of food. In fact she ate her way through the weekend and hasn’t stopped catching up on what she missed.

Update: Saltines

Update on our Saltines Situation.

1. Mr. Stinkerbean got it and slept for 18 hours straight. (I’ve got to come up with a better codename for him. How about Mr. Banks? Does that make me Mrs. Poppins?)

2. I just found out from a friend who’s kid has the same EXACT thing and our same doctor that once the virus hits the lower G.I. tract (and you know what I mean by that), it can take up to 5 or 6 days to clear the system. I’m having flashbacks of the “Rotavirus Christmas” but somehow feel more prepared to handle it mentally.

3. You may wonder how I have time to post during this madness. Well, during the daytime, she doesn’t want to sleep by herself in her room. She wants to sleep “dahn-stahrs” with Mama. So, I sit with her on the couch and try not to make too much noise by her side. What better quiet therapy is there besides Internet crawling? Have you searched for herb gardens lately? They’re hard to find in a modern all white format.

4. One of the saddest parts is that Friday night we went out as a family for her 5 p.m. dinner since we’d been stuck in the house from the 12-inches of new snow. She was so excited to be out and about. Something had clicked with her about how babies are different than big girls and that big girls put all of their pee pee and poo in the potty. She felt it coming twice during the day and we rushed to the potty with success. Then, she felt pee coming at the family pub (a glorified bar with enough highchairs to accommodate a toddler at every table in the joint). Mr. Banks and I looked at each other frozen, silently asking, “Do we really let her do it here?” I jumped off the cliff of germ paranoia and let her sit on an actual bar toilet. How could I explain to her that potty training doesn’t apply to public restrooms? I sat there and let her revel in her potty joy as I trembled at the sight of brown, splatter stains on the tile walls. (In my mind I was already giving her a bath and wondering how soon a toddler can learn to squat over a toilet.) Fast forward to her waking up in her own vomit. When I picked her up, she started crying because she felt pee coming and she wanted to sit on her potty and not go in her diaper. She insisted, so I let her sit on her little toilet with a towel wrapped around her as she was throwing up in a trashcan. At least it brought her a little mental comfort.

5. I am now using rubber gloves to change her diapers to cut down on the erosion of my hands.

Saltines

It’s always so casual the way people say it. “Oh, sorry. We can’t make it to the party. I have a stomach bug.”

A bug doesn’t really do justice to what my kid has had to endure this weekend. It sounds too nonchalant. Just a petty nuisance, if anything.

Lolo has been in a nihilistic gastrointestinal nightmare since Friday night when she woke up at 9:30 pm having brought up all of her dinner in her sleep. I’ll keep the details of the night to a minimum. Suffice it to say that it was more than miserable and pretty gory. But, she endured it with courage as her stomach turned against her.

Saturday morning, I called her doctor’s office and spoke to a nurse who broke it down for me in plain English. She said, “This is going to take all weekend. This virus is violent and brutal and extremely contagious. I’m an ER nurse as well and the emergency room has been rocked by this thing. You don’t want her there. So you’re entire job is to hydrate her around the clock ,every 15 minutes. You’re not going to cook or clean or take care of errands. Your job is to get more liquids in her than she’s bringing back up. If you have 2-3 pee diapers today, then you’re golden. As long as she has kidney function, you should stay at home. Wash your hands like a dickens because if you don’t, you’ll get it, too.”

She didn’t know she was preaching to the choir on the hand washing. Seriously, my skin is going to revolt against me. I think I may need a skin transplant for my hands. It’s disgusting, but I have to endure the burn. I can’t get this thing or the Stinkerbean ship is truly sunk.

So, we’ve ordered takeout all weekend, been washing hot water loads of laundry around the clock and used more disinfectant wipes than is probably healthy. But, that’s okay. It’s all for the bean. She’s so very brave and the only one around who would think about smiling for the camera at a time like this.

Right now, the virus is attacking her lower G.I. tract, so it’s hopefully on its way out. But, it will take a few more days for her poor body to recover.

This is the sick boat where Lolo has been for days.

The bravest trooper to ever live.

This is supply central. Rice cakes, flour tortilla, banana and Pedialyte via medicine dropper.

It's disgusting.