When the fever is running high, but the hands and feet are icy cold, you know what the doc is going to say.  And, sure enough, he cocked an eyebrow at me and said, "You know what we're going to do, right?"

Unfortunately, it wasn't as easy as all that.  While the idea was to toss the dotter into the hospital right then and there, there was no room at the inn.  This is THE season.  The "sick waiting room" at the doc's office was filled with listless children coughing their heads off, and so, too, was the pediatric ward; the doc tried wangling, he offered to release one or two of his kids who were doing better (but there was this horde of pediatricians waiting to swoop down on any empty beds), he tried negotiating with the Emergency Department to have her stashed in their "observation room" while we waited for an open bed, but...Alas, the ER has A Procedure.  The Procedure requires that you check in, go through the normal ER routine, and wait there for a bed.

We got into the ER at 11 in the morning.  At 8:15 p.m., we were moved into a room in the pediatric unit.  In the meantime, the dotter was hooked up to everything in sight, given antibiotics via IV, fluids via IV, oxygen via the tubes, and by the time we were moved into the bed, she was doing pretty good.  She will probably be sprung this evening.

Calling in the pros makes a weary mom feel oh-so-much better.  Fifty kazillion nurses and respiratory techs asking the dotter to lean forward so they could listen to her lungs and take her temp and feed her (yet more) antibiotics, while mom and dad just slumped in the chairs and let them Do Their Thing.  It's very reassuring to have professionals. 

Let me sing the praises of the modern health care industry:  they know their stuff.  They've got it down to a routine (and have been practicing that routine like crazy lately--like I said, the whole ped ward is filled with kids in similar circumstances).

More praises:  I heart ibuprofen.  I think acetominophin is okay, but I heart ibuprofen with a passion.  While all this was going on, I kept thinking of what this whole scene would be like a hundred years ago, without the fever meds, and didn't like that thought.  Imagine having to constantly bathe the child in tepid water, and cope with cool washcloths on the skin of a child who shrieks (shreiks?) at your touch!

The whole high-fever-plus-icy-hands-and-feet gave me the willies, and having the dotter with glazed eyes and languid, limp body was heartbreaking.  Normally, she's so vivid and vivacious that having her so listless and miserable was a startling contrast.

But, she's on the mend, very much so.  Yay!  OmegaDad is at the hospital with her, and I'm getting a break.  Time to go check my blogroll and the news and weather--see what's going on in the Wide World.  Thanks again for all the pats on the head, reassurances, and good thoughts!