A Stinky Situation
There is nothing better than spending a whole evening in a hospital ER. I can't think of anything I would have rather done. They are so... much... fun! It's even better when you find out that the reason you are there is the absolute dumbest, most humiliating thing ever, even worse than all the people who think the ER is their friendly neighborhood family physician and bring their kid in for a deadly case of the sniffles. But let me go back to the beginning of this story, because the best part was finding out the stupid diagnosis, and I can't reveal the very best part of the story right at the very beginning.
I had to get my lazy ass up early yesterday morning, because Booie had a play date. I hate calling it that. It always sounds so ridiculous, but that's what it was. So anyway, she was to be over there at 9:30 AM, because I'm an idiot and thought that was late enough in the morning to get myself out of bed, get Booie out of bed, get both of us ready, and be over there. I forgot the fact I could not just skip a shower and put on a hat, because I had already done that on Monday. Two day's worth of funk is just unacceptable for public consumption.
Somehow I managed to get everything done and get Booie to her friend's house only ten minutes late. She says she complained of her stomach hurting while she ate breakfast, but I still don't remember her saying anything about it. I dropper her off and gave the friend's mom my cell phone number, because I was going on a mission to find a new rim for Hammy's bike. I always do that as a precaution, even though no one ever uses it. Of course, the one time I'm about as far away as I can reasonably be, that phone rings. Booie is crying in the background as friend's mom tells me Booie's stomach hurts really bad to the point she won't even walk.
I'm worried and frantic, vowing never to go more than two minutes away from the house again if one of my children is at a friend's house (they have a way of making the worst of their visits), as I make my way back, past the big head-on collision that happened just before I crested a hill on the way out to the store. So not only did I have to deal with being far away, I had to deal with all the morons who had to slow down to 15 miles per hour to see if they could get a glimpse of blood. I could have told them there was none. Everyone lived. Two cars were totalled. End of story. Now put your foot on the gas pedal! It really didn't matter though, because I was them stuck behind the slowest dump truck on the face of the Earth. Almost 20 minutes later, I finally get there to pry my child away from the book she was reading and the garbage can she was clutching to carry her out to the car.
My stomach hurt a little the day before, so I didn't think much of her achy belly. She tends to be a bit dramatic about her aches and pains, probably because we overreacted to everything for so long after she was legitimately in pain from her illness. I gave her some medicine to ease the nausea and let her watch all the TV she wanted. She seemed genuinely miserable the rest of the morning and all afternoon, but I didn't think much of it until she came down with a fever. Did she get the fever before 5:00 while the pediatrician's office was still open? Of course not. She got it at 5:01. I kid you not. And anyone who has ever tried to call a doctor's office one minute after closing time knows she will get the answering service. I tried anyway. I even tried the second office, but the promptness of those phone lines getting turned over never fails. If only the doctors themselves were so timely.
I was beginning to freak out a little bit. To me, abdominal pain + fever = appendicitis. I'm a mom. I can't help but think the worst, especially after having something pretty damn bad happen in the past. I kept bugging Booie to tell me exactly where she hurt. She wouldn't be specific. It hurt "all over," even including her shoulder at one time and her "lung" at another. This should have tipped me off, but I was being an irrational parent with a sick child. I also made the mistake of asking her if it hurt in her lower right side, pointing to the area just to be sure. At the time she said it hurt some there, but that it also hurt everywhere. Not two minutes later, she wails that it hurt right where I said. Did I think maybe she was just responding to what I asked? No. Did I think maybe she was fishing for sympathy? No. Did I think? Of course not. I called the doctor.
Going by what I said and distracted by the ice she seemed to be getting out of her freezer at the time (I swear that's what it sounded like), Ms. Doctor told me to go to the ER. I got the kids ready and waited for John, positive I was going to have to stay overnight with my daughter. The waiting room was surprisingly empty when we arrived, and we went right in. That was no indicator of how long it would take to get everything done though. Booie was seen by a doctor almost immediately, at which time her right side no longer hurt. Now it was the left. Her fever had gone away too. I started feeling stupid, but the worst was yet to come. The doctor revealed that appendicitis was most likely not the case and started asking about bowel movements. That's when I knew... my daughter was full of shit. In both ways, and I was suckered by it.
To prolong the agony, the doctor wanted an x-ray of Booie's abdomen, because even though she thought Booie was full of shit, she wanted evidence. I wanted to leave right then, but just like in the TV show, that would have been against medical advice. So we waited. And waited. And waited. I caught tidbits of the ailments of all those around me. Did we come on the evening when lots of people were there that should have just waited and went to their pediatrician in the morning? No. We were there with the kid with a neck injury that required exploratory surgery, a boy who got his head bashed in by a brick, another boy who was probably losing an eye to shattered glass, two girls with broken arms, a kid so sick his parents were crying as they followed his bed down the hall, and others that were obviously there for much better reasons than we were.
We finally got the x-ray. The results were as expected. The doctor tried to comfort me, saying constipation can be very painful. I tried to defend my parenting skills by telling the doctor that Booie is actually a very healthy eater. She gets plenty of fiber, drinks lots of water and juice, and is probably the healthiest eater in the family. I'm sure the doctor figured I was just as full of shit as my daughter.
When we checked out (two hours later), and I payed the $25 copayment to find out that my daughter was just full of shit, the receptionist had to ask what was wrong with Booie. "Well lady, she's just full of shit," was what I wanted to say, but I meekly squeaked out that it was abdominal pain, and she just needed a laxative. The receptionist told me to keep an eye on Booie, because it could be appendicitis. Sucker.
Booie is doing fine today. You would never know she's full of shit. She still hasn't pooped, but I suspect that's not far off the horizon with the apple juice and prescription stuff she's been given. It's probably going to get pretty ugly around here this evening.
One year ago
Home Ownership - "Once all is cleared, we get the loan, and we will officially own our own home."
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One Year Ago Today:
