Sometimes validation comes at a high price.  I have endured the smug, patronizing looks from other parents at the grocery store as I wipe down the cart with my travel Clorox wipes before letting Caroline sit in it.  I shrug and chuckle when well-intentioned people tease me about dispensing hand sanitizer before allowing Caroline to eat her snacks on the go or still using the baby table toppers at restaurants.  I nod and smile when people tell me that you can't keep kids in a bubble, that they're going to get sick at some point, there's no avoiding it or that I won't be this way with the next kid.  I think we all know that finding the balance between keeping Caroline safe and not keeping her in a bubble that prevents her from having a normal, happy childhood is one of my top priorities.  From the moment I knew Caroline had a virus last week, I've been waiting for the other shoe to drop.  It dropped.

Even as Caroline's upper respiratory (runny/stuffy nose, watery eyes, sneezing) symptoms were abating, the lower respiratory (coughing, lung congestion and rattly breathing) symptoms showed up.  I knew by yesterday that we were going to have to start her back on the albuterol that treats her asthma.  The questions I had were how do I know when to start treatment and how often do I need to administer?  I felt that I needed someone to evaluate her breathing to make an informed treatment recommendation.

So, I called the pediatrician's office at 3:55 yesterday to find out they had an opening to see the physician's assistant at 4:15.  (Some other time I'd like to discuss my firm belief that if you go to the doctor's office and don't get to see an actual doctor you shouldn't have to pay the same copay amount.  But, I digress.)  Needless to say, I woke Caroline up from her nap, stuffed her in some warm clothes, spared a moment to regret my outfit and hairstyle choice that morning and jumped in the car. 

To realize that my battery was dead.  Sigh.

A quick call to a good friend and neighbor and we were back in business.  She was kind enough to drive us to the doctor at a moment's notice and even had a travel carseat readily available to install for Caroline.

The physician's assistant quickly came to the conclusion that indeed Caroline's breathing was restricted and she had wheezing in her lungs.  Official diagnosis: acute exacerbation of asthma.

As a side note, I have enjoyed great personal amusement over the three separate people who have mispronounced this diagnosis as an "acute exasperation of asthma" when I relayed the information to them.  I mean, I have to admit, it is an accurate diagnosis for me.

In the one exception to the excellent care Caroline received at our pediatrician's office was one comment made by the physician's assistant.  When she looked over Caroline's chart she said, "Well, you haven't been in for asthma since January 28th of last year!  Let's go ahead and start treatment now so that you don't have to bring her in on January 28th again half dead."  I do not appreciate anyone referring to my baby as being any percentage of dead, thank you.  I also don't appreciate the implication that I waited until she was half dead before bringing her in for treatment the last time.  Am I a little overly sensitive to the possible implication of guilt over that incident?  You bet.  But the comment was still out of line.

I want to say here that I am a huge advocate of having a diverse, but cohesive, medical team.  Specialists like Caroline's awesome asthma/allergist, Dr. Ruff, are invaluable.  I trust him to be fully up to date on the most recent research and recommendations specific to his specialty.  The final decision on how to treat Caroline ultimately rests with me (and Mr. Incredible, of course), but I rely on our doctors to help make those decisions.  I wanted to point out that while I took Caroline to see her pediatrician, I also consulted with Dr. Ruff's office via phone and fortunately everyone was in agreement on the proper course of treatment in this instance.  I wanted to include this aspect of my decision making process for you, though, so that you can see the importance of having a prepared decision model in place for your kids.  You'll be glad you did it before you're in a high stress situation and you need it most.

So, for now, we are back on albuterol every 4 to 6 hours.  Already I can tell an improvement in her breathing, but I hate, hate, hate having to give her this medicine.  And I hate, hate, hate seeing her look so pitiful.  It just rips out my mommy heart.

So, yes.  I am validated.  I will continue to do everything I can to keep Caroline from being exposed to the triggers that we knowcause this exacerbation of asthma.  For us, that happens to be viruses.  So, if I decline a playdate invitation even though "the doctors say we're not contagious anymore," I hope you'll understand.  And don't let me see your eyes roll.

I am validated.  Yea for me.