My Trip to Paradise

Tuesday night, I was visiting Rachelle with the three youngest kids (John and the two older boys had headed to Magic Moutain for their annual Father and Sons outing). We were looking forward to a wonderful evening of quilting for her new baby and visiting about all the books we've recently read or want to read.

Sam started in wheezing and breathing really fast. It hit kind of sudden, and even the breathing treatments we gave him, did nothing to help. So, I headed into the emergency room (a routine I'm all to familiar with!) After about an hour of them rushing around to get him stable, he fell asleep, and I took the nice hard chair beside him and kicked my feet up on the side of his gurney. They had hooked him up for an 8 hour nebulizer treatment, put in an iv to give him steroids and antibiotics, so we were set.

I started thinking about the money I've spent between insurance premiums, co-pays, deductibles and our 10% portion, and the dollars really added up. I thought about the type of wonderful vacation I could have spent with that money. I mean, let's face it, 3 weeks on the beach in Barbados had to be more fun that nights of worry in an ER. But sometimes, life chooses for us, and we do what we have to do for the sake of our children. But, wanting to make the most of what was bound to be a very long night, I decided to draw my comparisons. If this was the paradasical vacation I was going to get, I might as well enjoy it, right!

One of the nurses took pity on me and brought me a cup of juice and some crackers, which I have to admit was nice just to pass the time. So, as I chomped on ice chips and spread cheese on my crackers, I took in my surroundings. The snoring 89 year old next door, the radio going off every few minutes with information of someone else in distress and the constant beeping of machines were the sounds that flooded the air. Not very tropical. I won't be too graphic about the smells, but let's just say that the adult down the hall that didn't make it in time to the bathroom, certainly made things interesting for the rest of us. The cold room, neutral colors and bright lights made the atmosphere feel chilly, not exactly how the sun might feel if I were laying out on a beach.

The night was very long. By 2 a.m. they transferred us to UMC and I followed the ambulance through town. We had to go to their pediatric emergency room first, and I spent another 5 hours, waiting and answering questions. By this point, it was all I could do to keep my eyes open, and not slur everything together as I spit out his medical history to the 4th Resident that wanted to go through the same sheet of questions. I found myself seriously wondering why they couldn't all have laptops that were networked, so they would only have to ask for the info once!

By 7 a.m. we were shown to our room. It was a lovely, rectangular room with 3 colorful, metal cribs. Next to Sam's new bed, was a chair that I could tell had the potential of being pulled out into a cot, but I was quickly informed that it could only be pulled out from 8 p.m. to 7 a.m. I looked at the nurse, with serious hate building in my eyes, and asked, "...you mean I have to wait until tonight to get any sleep?" to which she nodded and said yes. I knew it was going to be a long day! I wasn't even rational by that point, so I'm just hoping I didn't say anything too mean to her. It wasn't her fault, but I was just so tired.

Sam was diagnosed with viral pneumonia and needed constant oxygen through the night and the first part of the day, but he began to respond well to the treatment and we were able to wean him off the oxygen by around noon. The oxygen was the only thing keeping him there (as usual) because everything else we are able to monitor from home. So, I watched the monitor all day, hoping that number wouldn't fall too low. 93 meant freedom, 92 meant more oxygen and a definate night there. It is very difficult to spend your day obsessing about a number on a machine!

It stayed at 93 often, but didn't dip, so we were realeased around 5 p.m. that evening. I was still wearing the same clothes from the day before, no makeup, no deodorant, a pounding headache (not that this was all about me) but I'm sure I looked a sight as I carried Sam (weighing 48 pounds) still in his hospital gown, his chest x-rays and all the other misc. things that collect in a day at the hospital, down the street to where I was parked.

As we made the 2 hour drive home, I pondered the experience, and all the previous ones. It definately has never been anywhere close to paradise or a vacation, but I have learned a thing or two that I would like to note for future references:

1. might be a good idea to have an overnight bag always packed, in the car and ready to go. You'd think I could have learned this maybe 6 visits ago!

2. pink toenails on a little boy can get more attention from every nurse in the room than just about anything else.

3. hospital food tastes better when you're too tired to know what's going in your mouth.

4. it would be nice to have at least one bathroom for the parents, closer than out the door of the ped's floor where you have to repunch in a code and wait for someone to open the door every time.

5. the kindness of strangers can brighten a long day, even if all they're bringing is a cold bologna sandwich.

6. A bathroom break is a great excuse to use, when they come with needles and gauze to draw blood or put in a line.

7. and things could always be worse, as I learned from the little girl sharing our room who was 13 months old and had burns covering most of her face and scalp or the 7 month baby girl in the crib next to ours who eats with a feeding tube and faces a liver transplant and possible dialysis for her sweet life or the door down the hallway that had info about chemotherapy posted to it.

I am very blessed. Life has not always been easy with the scares that Sam has given us and the things he has taught us about faith, but I am very blessed. I have family who will help us out in a pinch, a husband who was willing to drive back from CA and cancel their day of fun, just so he could help me out. I have a wonderful little boy, who challenges us, but loves us unconditionally. When things were at their worst, he could smile at me and put his arms around my neck and everything else just melted away. So, for now at least, I'm happy to keep those trips of fun and excitement and utter relaxation on the shelf of someday and just be content with my own day in paradise.