Butt Bullets

As anybody who has ever had a sick child knows, it’s horrible to see your little one feverish, lethargic, sad, and in obvious pain.  It messes with his sleep, with your sleep, with your life, with his life, and with your very thoughts.  It sucks.  Add the frustrations and sleep deprivation to an illness in a child on the spectrum, and you get a kid who refuses to take medicine orally.  And by refuses, I mean that even when Robert holds him down and I use an infant syringe to squirt needed fever reducers down Tucker’s throat, I have no idea how much he gets as he spits most of it out.  Even putting the spit-up back in the measuring cup doesn’t help as I know some of it is mucus and saliva.  Nasty, but true.

The fact that Tucker’s doctors know how difficult it is for us to medicate him pisses me off.  Why?  Because if it weren’t due to a good friend* of mine, who was raised in Europe, who phoned me close to midnight last night and suggested suppositories, Robert and I would have been holding Tucker’s mouth shut, again, tonight to get some children’s Motrin in his body.  So here’s the thing.  Why why why did Tucker’s doctors not suggest the suppositories???  Seriously, the Tylenol ones are shaped as little butt bullets, and were so much easier to administer than oral medications that I feel like a dumnass for not thinking of this myself.  Blonde mommy moment take X.

*Thank you H!!!