Another Day in the ER

Yesterday I ignored the number one rule of parenting.

Okay, maybe not specifically the number one rule of parenting, but more specifically the number one rule of "What to do when your child calls from school saying they're sick". I'd been in the driveway talking to my neighbors when Melee' called early in the day..

"Hello."

Silence "Um........Mom? It's me. .......Melee'."

"Yes baby?"

"Um...I need some lunch money..........I owe some money,........and they won't let me have my report card if you don't bring it today."

"Okay, how much do you need."

"Um..fifteen dollars..........I mean,...........I don't owe fifteen dollars,.............but I think fifteen dollars would be good."

As I get a lot of calls from school, I wasn't totally shocked when I looked down and saw the school's number again on my caller ID at 2:20 in the afternoon. But when I answered the phone it was Melee' and he was crying. His stomach hurt really bad and he wanted me to come get him. We usually have to work our way up to the cry, so when he started with the cry, I put the Little's in the car and drove over to the school. My red flags went up when I rounded the corner to the nurses office to find him doubled over and bawling. His tears can be alarming both in their size and voracity, but this was a new one even for me. I could tell by the look on the nurses face that this was something she had never experienced with Melee', and she has a lot of experience. So I asked if she could go get my niece from her fourth grade room and I got on the phone with the Dr.'s office, told them I was wondering about his appendix. They said to come over right away.

On the last day of school, the mothers on my block, fill up coolers full of water balloons, we arm ourselves with our best water guns and let the kids have it as they walk home from school. When I pulled out of my driveway I had left my neighbor Chase as she was filling her balloons. Safe in the knowledge that I would be right back, I didn't even close my garage door. So I made a quick call to Chase to let her know we would be headed to the Dr. and would miss the festivities and would she please be on the lookout for John just in case I wasn't back in time for the Jr. High bus.

We got to the Dr.'s office and waited. His pain had subsided. There I sit with two toddlers and two fourth graders in an 8 X 8 room with eye-spy being our only entertainment for the half hour wait. In the meantime, Chase and my other neighbor call me to see if everything was alright. "You know what it is?" Sharen says, "It's that fifteen dollars worth of lunch!"

The doctor came in and started with the standard questions.
When's the last time you ate? "12:00"
Vomiting? "No"
Diahrea? "No"
Fever? "No"
Where does it hurt? "Here"
Show me with one finger.
Does this hurt? "No"
Does this hurt? "No"
Does this hurt? "TSSSTT" Bingo!
Have you gone to the bathroom today? "No, it doesn't hurt like that."
What does it hurt like? "Like 12 shots in my stomach at one time."

So she turns to me and says she can't be sure, blah, blah, blah, but he's indicating the right area, so she wants to send us to the surgeon. She leaves the room and I start my flurry of calls. First to Charlie, then to my brother to see if he can pick up the kids and watch them, then to Chase and Sharen to have them meet John at the bus and after hitting him with a water balloon, tell him Krull is coming to get him.

After some bloodwork and tears, the Dr. comes in and hands me the surgeon's number and a map to the Texas Children's Pediatric hospital in South Houston. As I don't like to drive in unfamiliar places during traffic and while looking at a map, I called Charlie and softly whined "I WISH YOU WERE ALREADY HERE, WE HAVE TO GO TO TEXAS CHILDREN'S AND I CAN'T DO THAT BY MYSELF!" "I'm on my way baby, I'll be there in five minutes." (Woops, maybe I shouldn't have yelled." By the time I got to the counter to pay, Krull was there to take Zoe and the Little's. No problem, he'd take them to his house and they would order pizza and swim in his pool.

On the way to the hospital there were lots of tears over having missed the water balloons and swimming with friends, then John called and wanted to know could he please stay so that he could go down the street to our pool and play with all his friends. I said no, that I was sorry, but if we ended up in surgery (which I'm whispering so as not to further alarm Melee') that he would have to spend the night at Krull's. There was much arguing (him) and apologizing (me) and it ended with him hanging up on me. We get to the ER and there is no line. We sign in and before we can fill out the two page form we've been to the

Admitting nurse:

When's the last time you ate? "12:00"
Vomiting? "No"
Diahrea? "No"
Fever? "No"
Where does it hurt? "Here"
Show me with one finger.
Does this hurt? "No"
Does this hurt? "No"
Does this hurt? "TSSSSTT" Bingo!
Have you gone to the bathroom today? "No, it doesn't hurt like that."
What does it hurt like? "Like 12 shots in my stomach at one time."

The Attending Resident:

When's the last time you ate? "12:00"
Vomiting? "No"
Diahrea? "No"
Fever? "No"
Where does it hurt? "Here"
Show me with one finger.
Does this hurt? "No"
Does this hurt? "No"
Does this hurt? "TSSSST!" Bingo!
Have you gone to the bathroom today? "No, it doesn't hurt like that."
What does it hurt like? "Like 12 shots in my stomach at one time."

And finally to the radiologist to do the sonogram, but she threw us a curve ball:

Vomiting? "No"
Diahrea? "No"
Fever? "No"
When's the last time you ate? "12:00"
Have you gone to the bathroom today? "No, it doesn't hurt like that."
What did you have for lunch? "A bean burrito and more beans."

Charlie and I just looked at each other and started laughing. That, my friends, was the most expensive bean burrito I have ever had to pay for. That's right, he had 911 gas.

Oh, they went through the whole nine yards, took the pictures. Made him drink Gatorade to see if he could hold it down. The actual surgeon came by and went through the questions, told us if it was appendicitis, that it was too early to tell and to watch him closely for the next twenty-four hours, blah, blah, blah...

But Charlie and I both knew it was all about the bean burrito. In the meantime, my brother Krull had text messaged Charlie and said, "Dude, your son just threw a steamer in my pool. You owe me BIG!" And that's just two reasons why poop jokes are a big hit around the table every year at our Thanksgiving Dinner!

It's been thirteen years now that I've been a mother, and I don't know how I could have forgotten. The number one rule is ALWAYS MAKE YOUR KID SIT ON THE POT BEFORE YOU TAKE THEM TO THE DOCTOR!