By Wyatt Earp | April 27, 2006
He may look innocent, but this kid nearly killed me this afternoon. This is my two-year old son Erik, and like his father and brother before him, today he caught the nasty virus that has been going around. But unlike his father and brother, Erik woke from his afternoon nap with a 105 degree fever.
There’s nothing better than getting that call at work. The “There’s something wrong with the baby call.” I had only been at work for about an hour, and just came back from a crime scene – the local media was there, but they got everyone on camera except for me – when the missus called and told me Erik was burning up. The doctor’s office told her to take Erik to the hospital, and now we had a crisis. The wife is already sick, the in-laws are out to dinner, and I am 30 minutes away working on a case. Swell.
Thankfully, the missus had it covered. She had Kyle stay at the neighbor’s house, called her sister-in-law so she could try and find the in-laws, and drove the baby to the E.R. In the meantime, I was a wreck, and fairly useless at the division. When the wife got to the hospital, she called my cell, and I had had enough, case or no case, I was out the door. My lieutenant and sergeant knew the details, and told me to go there a.s.a.p. I was very thankful, many bosses may not have cared.
In between trying to call the wife’s cell every 30 seconds and driving like Dale Earnhardt, I made it to the hospital in 25 minutes. (New league record.) When I found them, Erik’s fever dropped down to 103. Oh wow! The staff gave him antibiotics and Motrin, but thought the IV would be unnecessary. Thank God. Erik was a lump, lying on mom and moaning, and as usual, I was fearing the worst.
After a brutal three hours, Erik’s fever dropped to normal, and soon the little punk was bouncing around the room and singing. Of course, he was oblivious to what his parents just went through.
When he gets better, I’m gonna strangle him.