My little boy has bronchiolitis. Since it is a mild case (thankfully) and neither my husband nor I suffer from asthma nor nasal allergies, the only treatment my doctor could offer is lots of fluids, lots of rest, and lots of cuddling.

That’s the good news.

The bad news is that he will be out of commission (translation: out of school) for the rest of the week because he’s still contagious to other kids, though it’s highly likely that he picked up the bug from school, anyway.


So, now I have to monitor his breathing to make sure he doesn’t take more than 60 breaths per minute, and keep an eye on his temperature to make sure it doesn’t suddenly spike. Oh, and if he develops a bluish tinge anywhere near his nostrils or mouth, that’s a bad thing, too, and he will need immediate care – as in hospitalization.

“But don’t worry,” Dr. W reassured me this afternoon. “That’s only in extreme cases, and I think Baby C will have this bug completely kicked in 7 to 10 days.” And since this is Day 4 of The Cough, Baby C ought to be well enough to go to school on Monday. That’s what his doctor’s note says, anyway.

My only comfort is knowing that he shouldn’t have to miss a lot of school in a few years (when it really counts) because he ought to have a really strong immune system.

That, and God wouldn’t let anything truly bad happen to my little baby, not this soon after losing Mom. God’s got a sick sense of humor, it’s true, but I don’t think he’s cruel.


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