So I was saying…by Wednesday night, I thought Maya was on the mend. The next morning, I presented her with breakfast (milk, cottage cheese, fruit, her normal…). Um, dairy? Bad idea.

I didn’t mention, but at this point, I was getting sick too. Tuesday night, I could barely swallow, so by Thursday morning, I decided to haul myself to the doctor. While we waited for my appointment, Maya let breakfast loose — all over my shirt. (My doctor was gracious enough to bear with the smell and see me anyway — ear infection causing issues in my throat.)

By that afternoon, Maya was a ragdoll: limp, lifeless, and completely unlike herself. We visited her doctor, who recommended an overnight visit for IV fluids at the hospital. I declined, and chose to take the wait-and-see approach. The doc said she was on call, and if I changed my mind, she’d get it set up.

Within minutes, I realized she was right. Maya couldn’t even hold down water, and what she spit up was tinged with blood. Scary!

The stay at the hospital was awful for Maya, and if awake, she refused to spend time in their cage-like crib. Can you blame her? The nurses and doctors were wonderful…and I especially liked the floor techs…guess it takes a special sort to work tech on a Pedi floor!

By Friday afternoon, Maya wasn’t doing much better, but at least was playing a bit…just not drinking anything, a requirement for her release. It looked like a second night at Memorial was coming, blech. Wouldn’t you know, shortly after the doctor left from the afternoon checkup, Maya started requesting drinks. A second girl was admitted to the adjoining bed in the room, and Maya wanted to chat with her…she was being…HERSELF!

We got to go home.

A few days later, Maya was back to being her (onery) self. I couldn’t have been happier. Now, if she’d just sleep in her crib without screaming…I think the cage left her traumatized.