Appendicitis Part III

I really wish there was no part 3.  And I'm saying right now, if there's a part 4, someone's going to have to come over here and scrape me off the floor with a spatula.

Ava got home and we were all happy about that.  I had been set on high alert about any future fevers because of the likelihood that they indicated an abscess.  So I was ready to keep close guard.  Ava's teacher from school was so sweet and came to visit her the next day (Sunday).  Ava had fallen asleep on the couch and woke up just before her arrival.  She was hot and glassy eyed when she woke.  And that was the first fever, 101.5.  After chatting with the on-call surgeon he said that fever on day 7 post-surgery is when they would do an ultrasound.  But this was day 6, so if the fever continued into the next day, I needed to call back.

That fever disappeared and only ever got in the 99's over the next two days.  But Ava still wasn't feeling like we had hoped.  She'd act fine for a while, but she always got so tired, so quickly and she just wasn't progressing like she had. I had a note to keep her out of school until Wednesday, but Wednesday was coming and I wasn't feeling like she was ready to be back to the grind.  On Wednesday afternoon that old fever was back and stayed all through the night, 101.4

Thursday morning we went back for an ultrasound.


I, of course, did not want there to be an abscess.  But the fevers concerned me along with her just not perking up as she should have and I hoped for an answer, a treatable answer.  That afternoon, the doctor called with the results: The ultrasound was normal.

Hooray! Except the mystery of the fevers lingered.

Also that afternoon, I noticed a little pink patch on Ava's cheek.  I didn't think much of it.  That evening she asked me to tickle her back.  I lifted up her pajama shirt to see that it was covered in tiny little red dots.

I texted with my doctor brother and decided I'd keep an eye on it.

3am that morning, Ava wakes up crying.  Which unfortunately, had become all too usual since she'd come home from the hospital.

When we get her in the light of our bathroom, she is red.  RED.  Red like a cherry tomato. All over her whole little body. And she is on fire, 104.5.

I call the surgeon's answering service, where I am told a doctor will call me back.  After a bath, Ava sits on my bed watching TV and I fall asleep waiting for a call that never came.

When I wake up in the morning, and finally get through to a nurse,  she tells me that allergic reactions happen within the first 24 hours of taking a drug, so my hypothesis of her being allergic to her antibiotic was not valid.  She told me to take her to her pediatrician to treat the rash.  I almost blew a gasket and told her I wanted to speak to a doctor.  She said she'd have one call me back.

10 minutes later my phone was ringing and she was asking me to bring her in as soon as possible. Someone must have set her straight.

After an hour and a half drive, and another hour to be "worked in," an allergy to Bactrim was pronounced, the medicine switched, and the mysterious fevers solved.

And for the sake of our sanity, we hope this saga is over.

Ava's already looking better than she has in a while.

Also, I would be absolutely remiss if I didn't document the overwhelming amount of love and support given to us by so many loving people.  Ava's hospital room overflowed with gifts, stuffed animals, and flowers. Gift baskets and toys and care packages and balloons arrived at our house.  Meals were made, rides given, babysitting offered.  We were truly taken care of in every aspect.  At one point in the hospital Ava asked me, "How many people did you tell?"  My mind flipped through the rolodex of everyone from church, her school, and friends near and far through Facebook.

"A lot, I guess." I said a little sheepishly.

"That's okay, I like it!"

I liked it too.  Thank you so much to all those who were so, so good to us over the past few weeks. The love sent via tangible gifts as well as prayers and well wishes made a tremendous difference in our ability to hold ourselves and our family together.  THANK YOU!