Well, then chaos consumes our household. Gabe is now at the kitchen table working on his homework for school, and he's whining about it. Chad's brother stops by, so that makes our 120lb boxer dog go crazy, and that sets Graedon off to be loud. It is so loud and crazy at that moment, and I feel Gabe's head, and he is burning up. My foul mood with my son instantly turns to worry mommy mode. Well, I make the chaos worse by telling Gabe that I think he has a fever and that he probably wouldn't be going to school. Oh my goodness, the wrath of a 5 year old awaiting Bingo day at school comes rearing his head out of my son. He is beside himself, and he doesn't want to miss Bingo day and the treasure chest of toys. I get the thermometer, and as soon as I can get it in his mouth, it immediately registers 102. My boys aren't fever kids. I kind of freak, and call my friend who is a nurse practitioner. She says she will see him. I start piecing his symptoms together: fever, upset stomach, he's achy because he is saying his knee and wrist hurts, he didn't eat his breakfast, and that is his fave meal of the day. My grouch 5 year old is a sick guy.
I take him to his appt. with my friend, and she rules out his appendix. I didn't even think of that! So, I am thinking she is going to tell me it's just a stomach bug, and give me some medicine prescription, and we will be on our way. Oh no, she says she wants an X-ray. An X-ray!! I was kind of dumbfounded for minute. Well she continues to explain to me that she thinks he is constipated and that is what is causing his belly to hurt. She wants the X-ray to see how full he is. Okay, I can do that, but still, my little guy has to go to a hospital for his first ever X-ray. (Is it bad that at one point I was a little bummed that I didn't have my camera to take his pic?) Anyway, she continues to tell me that his age is the age that kids can learn to hold it, and then they realize that when they need to go it will hurt, and will hold it longer to the point that they can't go. She says that kids are sometimes sensitive with the whole potty training stage, and I tell her that we had started having him wipe himself, and that he didn't like it. She says she bets that is what started this. I felt awful.
So, we head over to the hospital, and we fill out some paper work and head over the radiology. He even has an admittance band for the hospital.
A few phone calls later of people checking on him, a crying emotional release for me, and another round of ibuprofen for his fever, I headed out for this: