What's in a name?

Every year of my son's short life some time has been spent in the ER.  Always for breathing/croup problems.  When he was only a few months old he got sick and after the first round of medications didn't work he was diagnosed with the beginnings of pneumonia.  (To make matters worse our pediatrician wouldn't see him because his name - the pediatrician's - wasn't on his - Ashton's - medical card.  So while I am holding my wheezing new born they sent me away to find an ER.  In the interest of full disclosure the ER was downstairs but I still had to pay $100 instead of $10 and wait in ER lines instead of seeing the man that had seen him multiple times by this point.  Why you ask would your pediatrician see him a month ago for a well check but not now when his little life hung in the balance?  No idea but hostile phone calls were made and things were taken care of by the time our ER visit was over.  Don't mess with Mama.)

The second year his cold turned into a double ear infection which again turned into pneumonia.  I blogged about it once last year in phhbtt.

So here we go again.  Ashton had a cough that just wouldn't go away.  He didn't have a fever, no body aches, no changes in his appetite.  I brought it up to the doctor we saw for his 5 month well check.  It was a new doctor.  (Not new to the practice, just new to us.)  

"Why don't you try this Singular?"  He asked me.  "Here is a 2 week sample.  Call me if it works and I'll get you a prescription.  It should help with his allergies."

Okay.  I thought.  Why not.  So I used it and after about a week he got better.  After 2 weeks he was great.  "Wonderful."  I thought.  "No need to use that anymore."  So I didn't call back.  (Can you see the mother of the year award sliding away from me yet again?)

Then comes the good part.  I was having a presidency meeting here (I am now in the primary presidency.) and Ashton started to cry.  I ignored him as we were in the middle of some very important ... stuff.  About 30 minutes later they had left and I went to check him.  He could barely breath.  His chest would cave in on each inhalation and his little body was wracked with coughing fits upon exhalation.  I ran with him outside to see if the cold air would help.  No good.  I tried to decide if I should try to give him a breathing treatment at home but I wasn't sure he was getting enough air into his little lungs to do him much good.  So, back to the ER we go.  Again.  Again they tell me croup.  

To be honest with you I didn't know what to do.  We have done this every year.  Every year I rush him to the ER and every year they tell me croup which eventually turns into pneumonia and it isn't until my son is really sick that the medication seems to help him.  Why, I ask, is that?  Why does he have to get so sick before he is allowed to get better.

Today I got my answer.  Today I took him back to the doctors because, again, he wasn't improving.  I asked this time to see the same doctor I had seen about a month ago now.  The "Singular" doctor.  Double ear infection was the diagnosis again.  I could have cried.  "So why don't I just skip giving any medication and just come back in a few days when he has pneumonia and get that medication.  It'll save me a few bucks on medicine that doesn't seem to work anyway."   I thought.

"Tell me about him."  The doctor said.

So I did.  I told him how he had prescribed the Singular and how it had worked.  I told him about our trip to the ER and the diagnosis of croup - again.  

He looked up and said, "Croup?  Are you sure?"  

"No."  I said.  "That is what they said.  I don't know."

"It isn't croup.  It's asthma."

Now I will tell you what is in a name.  Everything.

Everything is in a name.  Now my son has a name for what has happened to him every year of his life.  Now I have a name to treat.  Asthma.  I can fix that.  This cold, flu, croup thing I can't fix.  Nothing worked.  But asthma I can work with.  By giving the illness a name he gave me hope.  Hope that I wont have to listen to my son struggle to breath while praying with all my might that he didn't just take his last as I drive too fast to the ER for help.  Hope that he wont have an attack at night that I miss because I have been awake for too long listening to each breath he takes and I am so tired.  Hope that I wont have to watch my son cry for relief that I can't give him and then stop because it requires too much energy.  More than he has to give.  Hope that I wont have to sit in the ER waiting for some doctor I have never seen before say "croup" before he has even touched my son and after 4 hours in the middle of the night I am sent on my way with nothing more than a "call your doctor if he doesn't get better".  Here's a clue for you - HE DOESN'T EVER GET BETTER!

Doctors don't diagnose kids with asthma when they are under 5 years old unless they meet very specific conditions.  Ashton does not meet those criteria.  When I brought this up with the doctor he agreed that Ashton does not have the diagnosis but for all intensive purposes that is what he has - treat is as such.  I could kiss him right on the mouth.  (I wont because it is very inappropriate and wrong.)  But, I could.  So here's to you doc. The one willing to give it a name.

SMACK!  (Kisses for you.)