Not at all like Seattle Grace

This past week Isabel made a glorious return to Rose Hospital, her place of birth. Well, if by glorious you mean strolling into the ER covered in vomit and poo. She picked up a rotavirus late last week, and it started wreaking destruction on her lower intestine Tuesday afternoon. Within hours she was totally dehydrated and despondent.

After one midnight visit to the ER, in which we let her watch cartoons in exchange for getting fluid down her throat, we were sent home with instructions to keep her hydrated. For anyone who has attempted to get a one-year-old to eat or drink something they don't want, especially when they're sick, this is no easy task. Less than 24 hours later, we were back at Rose, this time getting her hooked up to an I.V. Isabel was so dry that the nurse couldn't get blood to come out into the beaker for testing. And she slept through the IV insertion, which involved not only the stabbing, but wrapping a roll of tape around her arm and a big piece of plastic.

We ended up in the pediatrics section, where Isabel was quarantined in her room because of the contagious nature of the virus. So we spent two days chasing her around the room trying to keep her from pulling the I.V. out, opening the door, pulling the nurse call button, and comforting her as the nurses poked, squeezed and stuck her. It was a miserable couple of days, but we had a lot of support from good friends and family.

Isabel feels better, but still has little appetite or thirst, and we spent an hour tonight forcing 4 ounces of liquid into her mouth with a syringe. I find comfort only in the fact that Isabel will remember none of this. I mean, my first real memory is having red ants swarm my body in Texas when I was seven. So, yeah, Texas is horrifying.