Murphys Law #467: Ashe and Trips

Every time we go on a trip Ashe ends up in ER. Every. Damn. Time. It's become a running joke in our family. We haven't been on many trips so our total is still small, but it's been enough that we fear taking trips. J and I even started making bets months ago when we started planning this trip up to Massachusetts as to what would put him there this time.

Last August we took a trip up to New York for a friends wedding. Leaving the wedding at dusk, on our way to crash for the night so we could hit an amusement park the next day, Ashe started wheezing. He has juvenile asthma and had been in ER a few times for that but as of that time he had not yet been officially diagnosed. He got so bad that we had to call 911 in the middle of booneyville to find the nearest hospital. We ended up staying there for 2 days.

The next trip we took was to Asheville. Nebulizer packed we thought we were prepared. On our way we stopped at a museum for the kids, where Ashe promptly fell off a stool and smacked his head on a carpeted cement floor, creating a goose egg on his head the size of, well, a real goose egg. We went to ER to make sure he didn't have a concussion.

So this trip, along with the stress of finances (hahaha we'll be living off PB&J the whole trip) and seeing family dramatics played out, J and I have been trying to not panic about how we will end up in ER this time. It's either laugh or cry about it. Right now we laugh but it will only take one push to get us to be bawling like babies.

Well the past couple of days every time we went outside for a length of time I noticed Ashe rubbing his nose and complaining that it was itchy. I started wondering if he was developing allergies. He woke up late last night from a nightmare and seemed fine at 4:30 am when I went in to comfort him. I woke up this morning at 8, get my cup of coffee, start wandering up to the office when I notice Ashe passed out on the couch, sleeping like the dead. That is not my boy, who normally is destroying the house by 6 am.

I walk into the office, say good morning to J and he's got this weird look on his face, kind of like a cross between a smirk and a grimace. I ask whats up.

Ashe is sick.
Oh crap. Are you serious???
Yup.
*&@)*
Yup. He woke up at 5:30 stuffy.
Wheezing?
Not yet.


I always pack what I call the First Aid or Medical bag. So I went downstairs and put every type of children's medicine I could think of in the bag along with his emergency inhaler, lovingly placed by his regular nebulizer. It's now resembling a mini pharmacy.


We're leaving in a couple of hours. Ashe is still passed out on kids Benydryl. There's a slight tension in the air as J and I try to ignore the impending doom of ER. We hope we have it covered and wont make it there, but as our luck has been with trips, I wouldn't bet on it.


I hate trips.