You wouldn't have guessed it looking at his chubby nine and a half pound cheeks when he was born, but Baby M is the more fragile of our two children.
He already had bronchitis earlier this year, and now he has it again. This time, though, it isn't going away. The doctor prescribed antibiotics (why, for bronchitis, I don't know, but I'm not a doctor so I follow orders), which were effective the first time but not this time.
So yesterday we finished a course of antibiotics that had absolutely no effect. Last Friday I took him for a checkup since he was getting worse rather than better and the pediatrician was concerned, so she sent me to the hospital. So far we have been to the hospital Friday, Saturday, twice Sunday, and this morning.
Of the various things they gave us we are currently using an inhaler several times a day and a nebulizer once or twice a day since Saturday (hence the multiple visits). Fortunately it is within walking distance.
We managed to convince the doctor we are trustworthy and capable of handling this at home, because at one point he was considering having M admitted. I'm not sure if M actually sounded better at this morning's check-up or if today's doctor (new one) was just bored of us, but she told us that although M is still not doing well, we should go to our regular pediatrician in two days.
I think he is doing better. A little. But he's still a sick boy. And after a week of K being sick and a week of M being even more sick, my reserves are nearly tapped out.
Things still keep going wrong, though. I won't go into the long, boring list, but it isn't pretty. It hasn't been a season of peace and calm so far, I fear. Maybe things will start looking up soon.