There's been no other word to describe this past week, really. Callum's temp crept up and up and up all day last Tuesday, all the way about 104 degrees. Nothing I seemed to do would bring it down. You raise a kid for eight years and you get to know his illness MO. Sure he's had fevers before, but never this high and never without any other symptoms (all he complained of was a headache, sore skin and a stiff neck). And I could always bring them down. Not this time.

We called Neighbor Nurse Rebecca in for a consult and her concern made us more concerned (the stiff neck had us all worried about meningitis). So with a 104.1 fever and nothing else to go on, off to the ER at the local Children's Hospital we go. We haven't been to the ER with Callum since moving here. Urgent Care yes, no ER trips. Thank God. We were regulars in San Diego. (They have an awesome Children's Hospital, by the way.) Once was for falling of a bench onto a concrete floor, once was for a broken nose, but primarily we went for a stint that Callum spent with asthma when he was 2-3 years old.

The first time we made the asthma run was the kick-off of the worst 48 hours of my life. From Callum's labored breathing to the 911 call to the ambulance ride to the long, long wait in the ER waiting room. After that ER wait, my dad joked that I could probably see my future flash before me. A kid with his arm in a sling. Somebody needing stitches in his chin. Sure those families were there. All the things you anticipate going through when you sign on for this parenting thing. There was worse too, though. A little baby, younger than Callum, with osteogenesis imperfecta. His pelvis was broken and he'd been there before. I was so caught up in our own scary moments as Callum struggled to breathe, but the face of that boy's mother is burned on my mind. Both haunted and resigned. We got Callum hyped up on Albuterol with his oxygen saturation up to normal levels and went home. Only to return in the middle of the night as my baby boy struggled to breathe again. That time the ER was quieter, but just as scary as a teen suicide attempt was rushed past us. You absorb the anguish and the fear somehow. How can you not?

This time was different. Not as fearful. Not as... dramatic. Was it harrowing? Just as. We sat for four hours as Callum stayed hot and uncomfortable and miserably unhappy. All I wanted to do was go home, but as long as his fever hovered around 104 we were hesitant to leave. The place was packed. There were kids throwing up on either side of us. Poor Neel had been to a memorial service that day and was still in his dress shoes. No one, besides the triage nurse, ever saw us. Callum's temperature dipped to 102, and I called it. I want to go home. It serves no purpose to stay here. I was reminded of one time, deep in the throes of the asthma crisis, when Neel and I drove (why is it always in the dark of the night?) to the ER, took one look at the packed waiting room and turned right back around. We'd see our doctor in the morning. How liberating. I know it sounds dumb. We're not held hostage by our doctors or our emergency rooms. We don't have to go. If it hadn't been for that stiff neck and that stubborn high fever I never would have subjected any of us to that miserable Tuesday night. But you know what? You are held hostage by your child's very breath. By his hot, parched skin and strange and listless demeanor. I think what happens is that you just hit a point where suddenly you know that no one can do or know better than what you can do.

It happened that night in the San Diego Children's Hospital. It was, as it happens, our last bout with asthma. I don't draw the connection, really, but after that night when we made the decision not to stay at the ER, Callum out grew his asthma. And he's a pretty healthy kid. Up until this week, he hadn't been sick in over a year. This one was a doozy. Out of school all week. When we finally got to our doctor Wednesday afternoon (after a 15 minute wait), he tested negative for both strep and the flu. But the fever remained, and he was only up and moving around on Sunday. Six long days. Honestly, even with all the asthma and every ear infection, I have never seen him as sick as he was this week. Even the pups, Lucy especially, have been hovering restlessly, knowing that something has been up with their boy.

He's on the mend now for the most part. He should go to school today but may give PE a miss since his cough lingers. I'm glad it's a short week and that our Thanksgiving plans are light. I haven't even thought about Thanksgiving yet and I want to. The kicker is that I'm sick now too. Sinus infection and an ear infection to boot. And winter's not even here yet.