Since the death of Jett Travolta, we've been hearing a lot about Kawasaki syndrome, which Jett contracted when he was 15 months old.

Kawasaki syndrome is a condition that causes inflammation in the walls of small- and medium-sized arteries throughout the body, including the coronary arteries. It mostly affects children from ages 2 to 5. It also affects the lymph nodes, skin and the mucous membranes inside the mouth, nose and throat.

Kawasaki syndrome occurs more often in boys than girls -- and it can cause serious complications of the heart and the blood vessels that supply the heart. Some of the complications of Kawasaki syndrome may be life-threatening.

We were shocked to find out that one of our momlogic community members had firsthand experience with Kawasaki syndrome. Her son was diagnosed earlier this year. Here's her story:

Guest blogger Chantal: One night, when my 3-year-old son Alex and I were laying in bed reading a book, I noticed he looked a bit flush. I felt his head and when it felt warm, I called to my husband John to bring me the thermometer. 103F.

Huh, I thought. He didn't feel warm earlier. This is weird. But, this was also Alex. Alex is a fever runner. He'll get a high fever if the wind blows in his face. Since Alex has febrile seizures, I gave him some Motrin (Tylenol does nothing for his fevers) and put him to bed.

The next morning, he felt okay. A little warm, but he was in good spirits and more Motrin helped him out. We continued that throughout the day.

The next day at about 4 AM, Alex woke up screaming. He was hysterical. I brought him to our bed and took his temp again. 104.6. How could that be? He said his throat and ear hurt really badly. John and I looked at each other and decided to take him in to the ER.
The doctor said that Alex's throat and mouth were a bit red, but nothing that warranted immediate treatment. He took a swab and we were home by 5:15 AM.

Later that morning, Alex ran into the kitchen and yelled out "What is all this? I itchy!" I threw off his shirt and he was covered with a fine red rash -- especially in his groin area. He cried out "Oh! My balls. My balls! They're so hot!"

I immediately thought he had the chicken pox and I was thrilled. I contacted a few people I knew wanted to expose their kids and we arranged to meet Monday. This was going to suck, but it would be worth it. I kept watching for the spots to get fluid filled or crusty, but none did. By that night the rash had spread to the point where he looked sunburned. His hands and feet were particularly bad, extremely red and very swollen. I assumed they were swollen because he couldn't stop rubbing them.

Over the course of the evening, it was clear Alex was getting worse. He was cranky and tired and red everywhere. His feet and hands were so puffy and swollen that he couldn't sleep. I spent most of the night with cold cloths on them. When it become uncontrollable, we headed back to the ER. Once there, the doctor barely looked at him. He said we should wait for the strep test but clearly Alex only had a virus. He gave us a sheet on viruses, which said "Your child does not need antibiotics or a hospital stay." I was told not to return. The nurse added "unless he became much worse" to be a bit more user-friendly, but I was brushed off. I did not feel reassured.

Sunday the 11th was Alex's fourth birthday. He had requested breakfast for dinner and we all tried to remain festive, but it was clear to all the adults in the room that Alex was quite ill. Still, I had been told by two different doctors that Alex only had a virus and to wait it out. On the night of his fourth birthday, Alex went to bed miserable and had an awful night.

Monday morning, Alex yelled out for me and he sounded like he was in pain. I ran into his room.

"I can't get out of bed. It howts too much ederywhere." He said.

"What do you mean, Buddy? Can you stand up?" My heart was in my throat. I knew, just looking at him, that something was wrong with my son.

He could not stand up and he was insanely feverish. I didn't even take his temp. I calculated in my head that this was day four of a very high fever. That seemed like too long. Now he was red all over, swollen like he was 9 months pregnant in August and he couldn't move. He couldn't move!

I spit out some babbled details to John, told him to get the girls on the bus and I would call him when I knew what the hell was wrong.

We got to the ER, again. Once there, the nurse was obviously concerned. She examined him carefully from head to toe.

When she got to his mouth she asked "Does his tongue look any different to you?"

I was stunned. "Yes. What is that? It's huge and why is it all red? His lips are very red too. Why is that?"

"I'm not sure, but I've got some ideas. I'll be right back, okay?"

I called my husband to get there ASAP. Once he arrived, the doctor came back in.

"Have you ever heard of Kawasaki syndrome?" she asked us.

Neither of us had. She explained it to us very briefly, but because Alex did not have all of the symptoms I think I talked myself out of believing he might have it. It seemed remote.

We drove to consult with a pediatrician who had seen Kawasaki before. He said Alex most likely had Kawasaki and he would need to go to the children's hospital for a 48-hour observation right away.

I walked back to the truck shocked. How did it go from a simple fever, to chicken pox to being admitted to children's hospital for 48 hours?

We arrived at children's hospital at 3:30 PM and presented our note to the nurse at the desk. She took Alex's vitals and weight/height and then sent us to a waiting room just off the treatment area.

"Isn't that the waiting room there?" I pointed to a room full of people.

"Yes, that's the waiting room for non-emergent patients or possible but unclear fractures. That room is for true emergency patients. Your son needs a doctor in the next hour."

Shit.

Again, the ER doctor said Alex appeared to have Kawasaki, but a diagnosis called for high fever for five days and four of the five main symptoms. Alex had had a fever for only four days and while the symptoms were starting to show themselves (strawberry tongue, joint pain, cracked red lips, rash/swelling, swollen lymph nodes), he was still missing red eyes and extreme irritability. He said they were all progressing typically of Kawasaki and that if they were all correct, it would manifest itself and be clear within 24 to 36 hours. He was admitting Alex to be watched closely at least overnight and into the next day. John had arrived earlier and was there as we started the admission process.

The next 48 hours were hell. Alex did not sleep well. His feet and hands were bothering him more than ever. He was constantly crying out "Help me! Somebody help me! Anybody! PLEASE!" He had extreme diarhea. It was 4 AM, he was on the toilet, crying and I noticed his eyes were red like I had never seen them before. I sat on the floor and cried. I cried because I knew this was what they were expecting. I cried because I was bone-tired and afraid. I cried because I was lonely and wanted someone to tell me everything was okay.

At 5 AM, Alex finallly fell asleep. So did I. We were woken up at 9 AM to take his vitals again and the nurse realized that Alex was very hot and he was not sweating. "This is going to be high." she said as she took his temperature. She didn't tell me what it was. Just that she was sure he had Kawasaki. "He's so textbook it's frightening."

I felt slightly relieved at that point. At least we knew what was wrong and they seemed to know what to do.

The team of doctors met with John and I early in the afternoon. As soon as the treatment was ready he would be getting a five-hour course of Intravenous Immunoglobulin (IVIG), a blood product that would help him immune system fight the effects of Kawasaki, reduce the swelling and get him back on track. Then he would be given high doses of aspirin to thicken his blood and reduce the chances of aneurysms or swelling of the arteries to his heart. If, after the IVIG, Alex appeared to improve, they would watch him for 48 hours. If he could remain fever-free for that amount of time, he could go home. I was calculating the time in my head, but I couldn't even remember what day it was to even start.

As the IVIG was administered, I was having my own little freak-out party on my torturous cot. I started to picture myself at Alex's funeral. Why hadn't I got his hair cut? His toe and fingernails were ridiculously long. Were they judging me for that? Just as quickly as these thoughts entered my mind, I saw him as a teenager, running happily. Then I imagined him having a heart attack. I was everywhere and nowhere. I could not believe I was where I was and I was terrified. Through all this, I could hear Alex yelping and screaming. He wanted everyone to leave him alone. He wanted to go home and see the girls. He wanted to play Nintendo.

A few hours later, Alex's day nurse came in to check on us. I heard her taking his temperature and I shot out of bed. I was stunned by what I saw. Alex was bright eyed (even if they were red) and white. Not red. Just white. His hands were still puffy, but they were less red and angry. Best off all, he was cool as a cucumber.

Now that we're home, I'm not as much of a basket case as I thought I would be. When they first discharged us, I was afraid to go home. As much as I hated the sounds and noises of hospital, I knew that we were safe there should something happen.  Is the closest hospital, though only seven minutes away, equipped to handle any emergency? Slowly though, I've realized that we just have to take it as it comes. Follow the doctor's orders and keep an eye on him.

10 days after this all started, Alex had some color back in his face and he begged his dad to wrestle with him. Normalcy was settling in, with him here. I'm still worried and I think I will be for a long time, but until someone tells me that I need to, I'm not freaking out -- well, not right now anyhow. Ask me at 3 AM when I can't sleep.

To read more about how Chantal's son Alex is doing, go to her blog Bread Crumbs in the Butter.