I firmly believe that the emergency room is the worst place on earth, second only perhaps to the DMV. (We found ourselves there twice last week for incidents of severe pain in Henry’s stomach.) I also firmly believe that I have a lousy pediatrician who sent me, crying, eight-months-pregnant, and very frightened, to the ER to sit and wait (and wait and wait) with my screaming, writhing child (who, incidentally, calmed down as soon as we got into the car to drive to the hospital.) After all that waiting, here’s the dialog that finally prompted me to leave the ER without treatment on visit #1:
Me (to the woman sitting next to me in the waiting room): So, why are you here?
Her: I think I broke my back.
Me (horrified): Oh. How long have you been waiting?
Her: Two hours.
Me (even more horrified): Oh, so we could be here a while?
Her (looking at Henry, who, by this time, appeared perfectly fine): yea, and they see you in order of urgency, so looking at him, I’d say you’ll be waiting a long while.
That was my cue to take my child home for what I think he really needed (a nap and the comfort of home.) And we left.
When he woke up from his nap, we had a repeat bout with the writhing pain, labored breath and inconsolable crying. So we headed to the ER again — this time to one closer to our house. Again, the crying stopped as soon as we got in the car, but I pressed on in grim determination to find out what was going on inside his body. His condition improved dramatically after the triage nurse administered a dose of children’s Motrin (for the 102 degree fever.)
Here’s what prompted us (Nate was with me by this time) to leave the ER sans treatment, the second time:
After an hour and a half of waiting, my child was literally skipping and running back and forth past the other hacking, moaning, bleeding patrons in the ER waiting room. I thought we were safer to leave than to stay sitting (waiting) next to the large man who was rocking back and forth, coughing spewtum into a hanky.
So, though we waited for more than three hours, in two different emergency room waiting areas, we were never actually seen by an ER doc and Henry seems to be fine. Apparently, he can’t come within five miles of a stomach bug without coming down with it, and apparently there was a nasty bug going around that caused several of his little friends to come down with high fevers and at least one other little girl to have similar bouts with stomach cramps/pain.
He describes the incident as “that one night I had a rock in my tummy and it didn’t go down the hole.” He is such a dear — during one particularly pain-laden moment, we were both sitting on the bathroom floor, crying, contemplating that second trip to the ER. When he looked up and realized that I was crying too, he asked, “Does your tummy hurt too, mom?” and then got up and unrolled a few squares of toilet paper to wipe my tears with.
Maybe that’s why it hurts me so much to watch him suffer because I know better than anyone else on earth what a sweet little heart beats inside his ailing body.
oh i am sorry em…nothing worse then worrying about a sick little one. i hate that. poor little henry. hope you are (all) feeling better.
so excited for your new little one who will be here so soon!
This made me think of all my adventures as a twelve-year-old. My mom was always the one with me in the emergency room and hospital and doctor’s appointments as I suffered and was eventually diagnosed with Crohn’s Disease. Thanks for writing.
Poor little guy! What a good momma you are to listen to those instincts! The ER is the worst and he probably just would’ve caught something else on top of everything!!!
Oh Emily, I am so sorry for the inconvenience and trouble that you experienced at the ER. I don’t know why it has to be so horrible there. You so beautifully described the agony that a parent feels when their child is suffering. I am glad to hear that it was just a bug and that Henry is feeling better!
OH, Em! I can totally imagine you laying next to Henry crying. Such a tender scene in my head.
Jimmie has been throwing up the past two days and little Max has the poops. So, we feel your pain to some degree…
Jimmie threw up in my Mom’s bed and said to her (seconds after the mess was made): “Nanny, I’m sorry I thowed up in your bed.” Break your heart.
Hey Emily!
Two things:
1. I am so glad Henry is doing well…there is nothing worse than seeing your little baby in pain. What a sweetheart!
2. I totally thought of you when this artist emailed me: I see the vintage Etsy stuff you like and I am a TOTAL fan of this local artist who is a Mom of three and LDS too….she is so unique and creative and I’ve waited for her to get her stuff up online and now she is starting…I’m such a fan I’m telling everyone. You can check it out at ellamcdoniels.blogspot.com
I realize it is weird that I totally don’t really know you and yet think I could spot something you might enjoy! Hope you don’t mind!
Take care!
Rae
Oh no!! I’m so sorry for all of the trauma! And Henry’s comment to you mande me melt! Chiildren! I LOVE THEM! And what a particular sweetheart Henry is!!
Are you all doing better!? These are not the kind of adventures you want to have when you’re about to deliver a child, friend!
Yes, Grace had this on our road trip to Utah and then I got it on my vacation to Prince Edward Island. It didn’t interfere too much with my good time. Just mostly at night. Errg! But it IS nasty.