Deciding to make the best of a rather crappy morning, I bundled up James and put him in the van, telling my husband that I'd take him for a drive until the appointment, so at least he and our daughter could get some rest. My head ached from lack of sleep, stress, and the prospect of several long, bleak hours to kill on the road with a sick, wailing child strapped in behind me.
And you know, instead I had a morning that I will remember for years to come. Absolutely amazing and gorgeous. The mist was slowly rising up off the vineyards, whose leaves ranged from light green to gold to flaming oranges and reds as they rolled over hills and filled the flatlands. The redwoods and evergreens were towering and dark green on either side of the road. The rising sun would cut in through the fog and light up dead moss and yellowing vines and leaves in the foreground. Despite worrying about James and being slowly driven mad by his toneless stimming, I enjoyed the heck out of all that beauty.
We stopped for a few minutes by the River, and I was able to take some photos. I held James for a bit in my arms, and we watched a commune of ducks as they flocked to food underneath a tree, quietly quacking to one another as they mingled and munched. We drove across the River on a beautiful little bridge and down a side street that was slowly being taken back by the redwoods. And darned if we didn't see ... a splatty witch, one of James' most favourite Halloween things ever.
|On a bridge to Nowhere ...|
|Watch out for that tree!|
The on-call doctor was very kind and seemed to size up the autism and health situations with James very quickly, even though I am pretty sure he'd never seen him before. I was rather surprised to hear that James did not have the flu or tummy bug, rather the yammying was due to excess of phlegm, bronchitis, and the beginnings of infections in both ears. The doctor was very kind to me as well, saying that unfortunately, James had to kind of get to this point before he could be helped by antibiotics so I did well to bring him in today, rather than earlier or later.
So we got his antibiotics, pain reliever (suppositories, just in case), and albuterol inhaler and headed back to the van. As soon as James was loaded into his car seat, I gave him the antibiotics. Over the course of the afternoon at home, I was able to also administer the albuterol and some food (the doctor said he could even have dairy products). He rested on the sofa and I noticed he'd stopped moaning and doing the verbal stims. He told me that his throat had stopped hurting. He took a nice nap and took more food. Within half and hour of the food, he was sitting up and talking again. As I type this entry, he is singing along (in his own words)to a Baby Einstein video.
From my big purple armchair I salute Alexander Fleming, Edward Abraham, Clodomiro Picado Twight, and others who brought us antibiotics. The difference between James of this evening and this morning is literally like that of night and day. Between James feeling so much better and the unexpectedly transcendent morning, my day has undergone a transformation for the better as well.