May I first state, that no one likes having a good story to tell better than I. Of course, to keep the audience's attention isn't every story teller allowed a certain amount of wiggle room when describing, explaining, and dare I say "embellishing" the scenario?!
This story, however, needs no embellishment. I, Mary Carlton swear to tell the truth, the whole truth and nothing but the truth. So help my Blog!
EDITOR'S NOTE: The names of medical personnel have been changed to protect the innocent as well as the guilty. The times listed correspond to the call lists from Charlie's or my cell phone.
Our story begins on Thursday, January 13th.
7am - I wake up and call to get a same day Dr. appt for Josie. She twisted her knee sledding on Tuesday and had yet to put weight on it. I got an appt for her at 10am.
7:45 am - I send Tali, Lyra, and Brother off to school on the bus.
9 am - I drop Sawyer off at preschool and Josie and I head to the clinic.
12:15 pm - I drop Josie off at school with her new crutches. According to the x-rays she has not broken anything, but "sprained" her knee. She and her knee will need to take it easy for the next week. I grab Tali and Lyra out of their classes to tell them to help their sister on and off the bus. Lyra's response: "She got crutches? That is SO not fair!"
12:34 pm - I arrive home to find Sawyer's new ABA (Applied Behavior Analysis) Therapist on the doorstep. She's not due until 1 pm but because she has to drive 50 miles from her house and have her car searched when she gets to post - it's hard to figure out the timing. We sit and talk until it's time for her to go to Sawyer's school.
1 pm - I walk with her to Sawyer's school and make sure she gets signed in, etc. I stay long enough to see Sawyer smile when he sees her.
1:45 pm - I walk back to school to pick up Sawyer and Therapist to walk them home. Sawyer refuses to walk and so we basically "drag" him home. (This goes to my state of exhaustion later in the evening.)
2:10 pm - We arrive home to find Sawyers' music therapist already at the house. The three of us sit in the kitchen while Sawyer lies on the floor screaming b/c we made him "walk" home.
2:30 pm - Charlie arrives home from work and takes the car to "the dentist." At this point, I knew he was coming up on some periodontal surgery to have skin taken from the roof of his mouth and grafted to his gum line. I just didn't realize it was today.
3:40 pm - I meet the kids getting off the school bus to help Josie w/ her crutches. The two therapists then leave me alone w/ my kids. (Why do they think I can handle that?)
4:30 pm - Tali has to walk to her friends' house to go sledding b/c Charlie is not back from the dentist. This drama is enhanced by the fact that last year's snow boots are too small. (Her feet are growing faster than I can afford shoes!) At this point, I check the calendar to see exactly what Charlie's got going on. I find out he is having the surgery TODAY! I suddenly am wondering if he's supposed to be driving himself home!!!
5:30 pm - Charlie arrives home. He is a little swollen and in a minimal amount of pain it seems. I read over the post-op instructions and we talk for a bit. There's a mention of possibly needing to go get him some more gauze. I leave him in bed to rest.
6:31 pm - Tali calls & I go to pick her up at her friends house. We continue on to McDonalds to get Charlie a milk shake. Post op instructions have him eating soft food for a few days.
7:04 pm - The phone rings as we approach McDs. It's in my jeans pocket and I can't get to it before I miss the call. I hand the phone to Tali as the roads are still a bit icy and ask who called. She says "it was Daddy."
7:06 pm - As I pull into McDs she calls him back. She hands me the phone and says "Daddy wants to talk to you."
I think he's gonna tell me he wants a Big Mac too, b/c he was telling me how hungry he was before. His voice sounds weird, garbled even. He says "I'm bleeding. I think I need to go to the hospital." Not quite getting it, I say "Should I stop to get some gauze?" He answers w/ a resounding "NO!"
7:08 pm - I call my neighbor down the street who's an RN. I quickly describe the situation and ask her to go to the house to help Charlie until I can get there.
7:09 pm - I then call the house phone to tell one of the kids to open the front door to let the neighbor in. No one answers and I start to worry.
7:09 pm - I call the kids' new cell phone which seems to hover within inches of their grasp on a normal day. It goes strait to voice mail. I am now picturing the kids all sitting vigil in our bedroom.
7:19 pm - There is a call on Charlie's phone to his Doctor. This was my friend calling as I had not yet arrived home.
7:25ish pm - I pull up to the house & take the back staircase 2 stairs at a time (not easy for me) and hear voices in the playroom. I rush in and fire away: "How's Daddy? Why didn't anyone answer the phone? Did you let Miss Lori in?" They look at me with blank faces. They are so clueless they don't even offer a word. I leave them and run down the hallway. I see Charlie in bed and Lori standing there in scrubs looking quite nursely. As I get closer I start to see what is wrong w/ the picture.
Charlie is holding a large piece of gauze in his mouth and it's rapidly turning red. Lori is on the phone with the Doctor (whom I will refer from now on as Dr O). She's saying he's bleeding quite a bit and even though he is putting pressure on it, it does not seem to be stopping. As she's talking she's swapping out gauze with Charlie.
I realize that the plastic bag she's holding out for him to throw the gauze in is getting full. At that point I walk by the bathroom and something catches my eye. It's the unbelievable amount of BLOOD splattered on the floor, the wall, the toilet seat...then I see the sink. Had there been a sign saying "Jason wuz here" I would've believed it. The sink was full to the brim w/ gauze, rags, and BLOOD. Lots and lots of BLOOD. Did I mention there was BLOOD?!?! I have heard about blood congealing into a jelly like substance, but until that moment, had never saw it up close and personal.
7:31 pm - We are in need of gauze. Charlie is writing notes to Lori to communicate as he has his thumb on the roof of his mouth applying pressure. He writes for me to get the first aid kit out of the back of the car. I go out there (again passing a room full of kids who are completely clueless to what's happening a few rooms away) and pull out from the back of the van the German first aid kit we were required to buy when we lived there. I also grab the smaller kit from the front of the car. As I come back up I hear Lori on the phone asking her husband to bring the first aid kit from their house. We open everything up and start trying to find the best gauze to use. Keep in mind all our stuff is labeled in German and metric measurements. We try soaking the gauze in ice water, wrapping snow in gauze, using tea bags instead of gauze and anything else that MIGHT have an effect. Lori is able to slow the bleeding WAY down. I am able to walk into the bathroom after several deep breaths and a resolve to not break down. It's making me weak in the knees and I find myself dry heaving, but I get it mostly cleaned up.
Things have calmed down. Charlie is now writing an apology to Lori that he's been forcing her to have the background noise of Star Trek on TV. We're joking around, this is good.
Lori told me she'd asked Charlie if he'd taken any aspirin before the surgery. He had run 7 miles Wednesday afternoon and so he'd taken 3 aspirin that night never knowing that it could thin his blood.
7:34 pm - Lori called Dr O. to say that we think we got it under control. It is still bleeding, but has slowed. The Doctor says Charlie needs to keep his head elevated, pressure on the wound and NOT to talk or do anything that might put stress on the site.
7:38 pm - We are trying to see the site and Lori is trying to show me where it was bleeding from. The flashlight that I so carefully keep on a top shelf in the kitchen is missing...SURPRISE! I remember Baby Charlie having it in his bed the other night. Of course none of the children have any idea where it is or where there could possibly be a working flashlight. Lori calls home to have her husband bring their Maglite.
8:14 pm - Dr O. calls back to check on everything. Lori tells her we are good, just continuing w/ gauze and pressure. The Doctor says we should call if anything changes or we have any questions.
8:45ish pm - Lori has stayed for me to get kids into pajamas and bed. She shows me how long to cut the strips of gauze and tells me "I think you're in for a long night" meaning I'd be swapping out bloody gauze for clean all night. She had no idea...none of us did.
For the next hour+, things are calm. I help Charlie into his pajamas, I get into mine, and we sit in bed and watch TV. At one point I ask him if he thinks I should call my friend Tina to warn her that I may need to take him to the ER if it starts again. He kind of shrugs - He still can't talk at this point b/c he still has a mouth full of gauze. I decide not to call. It's 9:20 and I'm afraid I'll wake their kids. Besides, surely this will not start again.
10:08 pm - Charlie makes a strange gurgling noise and I look over. He just looks "odd." He gets out of bed and heads to the bathroom. I jump up and watch him as he bends over the toilet. You know how on Saturday Night Live when someone is supposed to be throwing up, they stick a hose through their shirt sleeve and then the stuff just sprays out? Okay, well, picture Charlie leaning over and opening his mouth as someone turns on a hose of blood. I have never seen anything like it.
I call Lori and tell her we are headed to the hospital. She sends Rob, her husband, our direction so we can leave.
10:13 pm - I call my friend Tina to see if she or her husband can come sit with the kids while we are at the ER. Her husband, Z, answers and says he'll be right over and let Rob go home. Before I put the girls in bed I had told them there was a chance I'd have to take Daddy to the hospital, but one of our friends would be downstairs.
I get dressed and help Charlie to get dressed and we go.
10:18 pm - I call the Dr. as we are getting into the car. There is no answer and I leave her a voice mail to please call me back.
Here is the part where I make a very strong suggestion to everyone to PLEASE make sure that your local ER is programmed into your GPS. There are 2 hospitals in Leavenworth and we have always gone to the same one. The problem is, it's tucked away in a weird spot. Every time I've gone, I've had to look it up. Of course, it's never been a TRUE emergency and there's been plenty of time.
I'm trying to pull it up on the GPS and Nina (the voice of my GPS) is ass-backwards as usual. She's taking forever to pull up the local hospital locations. She then shows that the hospital we usually go to is further away than the other one. This surprises me (as it should since it is actually much closer), but she locks up and I panic.
I decide we'll try the other hospital for a few reasons. Lori and her husband both mentioned within the last 20 minutes that that is where they go. Also, it is directly across the street from the Dental Office where Charlie had his surgery this afternoon. Why this makes me think it's a plus I'm not sure, like maybe the Periodontist lives in her office? But at the time it made sense, I swear. The third and probably most truthful reason is that this particular Hospital is on the "main drag" of Leavenworth. I couldn't get lost. I also told myself that since the main road still had some sketchy patches of ice, it would be better not to have to drive on the smaller side roads. But truth be told, I was petrified of getting lost going to the other ER.
Charlie is frustrated, I know. Things don't really seem to scare Charlie so I figure it's just me pissing him off as usual. As we drive he's trying to motion something to me. At first I think it's that he wants me to go to the other hospital and I'm scared to admit I don't remember where it is. We are sitting at a red light and he's waving his hands around. Looking back, he wanted me to go through the light, but I was on automatic pilot. The light turned red and I stopped, glad to have a moment where I could catch my breath and not worry about hitting a patch of ice or another car.
We pull up to the ER and I let him out by the door. As Monday Morning Quarterback, I realize now I should've walked in with him. I have no excuse except that I just wanted him to get help as soon as possible. Also, as I pulled up so did an ambulance and I just wanted to get out of the way and park so I could go inside. I had brought the post op instructions and was going to give them to Charlie to bring in with him but he was out of the car before I remembered.
Poor Charlie! He walks into the ER with his mouth spurting blood and they look at him and saw. "Aw, did you knock a tooth out?" He's trying to explain with a mouth full of gauze and they are slowly getting the picture...very slowly.
Now, there is one part to this horrific story that will make me laugh every time I tell it. As Charlie is trying to explain what's going on and who he is, etc, he's trying to get his wallet out of his jeans. Again he's holding a bucket (of blood) in one hand and has his other hand applying pressure to the roof of his mouth and he's having trouble getting the wallet. Finally, one of the nurses "carefully" removes it and opens it.
The first piece of ID they find is NOT his military ID stating that he is a LT COL in the United States Army. What they find is his driver's license. The drivers license he had issued in Washington DC, the month after he got home from 6 months in Afghanistan, where he was "fitting in." This license makes him look like the Uni-bomber at best, a homeless mountain man at worst. This proceeds to freak out the ER staff and probably wastes an extra minute or two. After the initial "Is this really you?" Charlie is able to locate his military ID for the staff.
After coming within inches of hitting the ambulance when I try to back out of the way, I find a parking spot and run into the ER. For some reason at this point, I'm suddenly calm. I've got him to a hospital - They will fix it. Really Mary? Not so fast.
First I am at the window saying, then yelling "Excuse me!" about 5 times before they realize I'm there. I'm instructed to go down the hall to the waiting room where someone will take info from me to register Charlie. No one is there. I wait, no one comes. I start walking back up the hall and I get "She'll be there in a minute." I cool my heels for what seems like forever and finally, the "She'll be there in a minute" girl says "I don't know what she's doing; I'll register him for you." Thanks, cuz I was about to jump over the desk and do it myself.
As we're going through all the name, rank and serial number questions. I hear voices from the ER saying the Periodontists name. "Which Dentist?" "Do we have the number?" "Can someone just look it up?" I'm yelling to them that I have the number in my hand, but it seems to take a few tries before anyone seems to hear me.
Finally, they lead me to the ER. As I'm walking back I hear the ER Doctor on the phone. "I'm an ER Doctor, not an oral surgeon. I was gonna put him in a bus and send him over to KU Med." This is not reassuring. Neither was his comment after he hung up the phone when he said "I don't know how to deal with this, she did this, she needs to get down here and fix it."
I can't imagine that much time has passed since we've arrived, but it feels like it's been hours. The bleeding has not slowed...at all! Charlie is coughing and occasionally choking. One of the nurses takes the bucket he walked in with away from him, but doesn't replace it.
Charlie is telling them "I need a bucket!" Nurse Clueless continues on about her business. "He needs a bucket" I say. She's mumbling to herself rummaging around the counter top. "Can I get a bucket for him, please?" I say louder. She says "Just a minute, I'm looking for a mask." "We need it NOW!" I beg. I'm stuck on the other side of the gurney, but I start to try to work my way over toward the counter.
Nurse Angel remains calm, but understanding through all of this. "Nurse Clueless, could you hand them a bucket?" Nurse Clueless gets annoyed and hands Charlie one of those kidney bean shaped pans. I thought he was gonna throw it back in her face. "No," I say, "We need one of those big ones." By the time I'm done saying that he's already filled the little one.
10:56 pm - Charlie writes me a note asking me to call Lori. He feels like the blood is now coming from a different place. I call Lori and try to explain to her what's happening. She says she can talk to the Doc and describe the site from before. I'm holding the phone saying "My friend is an RN. She can tell you where it was bleeding from before."
I get no response. The Doc is examining Charlie and ignoring me. I start to repeat after Lori "It was in the back on his left side next to the Canine tooth." No response. "Is that where it's bleeding now, because Charlie thinks it's coming from somewhere else?!?"
I felt like I was talking to a brick wall. I get that it was an emergency, but the Dr. already said he didn't know what to do. Dude, I've got relevant information over here.
The ER Doc is pretty much shaking his head "Call Dr. O."
They call Dr. O and he talks to her. He is still sounding like he's not real comfortable. Charlie starts to yell (as best as he can), "If you can't treat me, I want to be sent to KU!" The Dr. tells Dr. O "the patient is asking to be sent to KU." They put me on the phone.
For the second time that night, my knees go weak. The scene is completely surreal. Charlie is yelling, sort of, that he wants to be Medovac'd. Nurse Angel is trying to calm him down and keep him clean. I'm telling Dr. O that he wants to be moved to KU. The Doctor is telling Charlie he doesn't know how long it would take to get an ambulance there. Charlie tells him there's one right outside the door. He replies that "they may get called to another site."
Charlie has begun to panic. Charlie doesn't stress about this kind of stuff, so this freaks me out. Things are happening really fast, but at the same time it feels like slow motion too. My head is spinning. How is it that we are at the hospital and they can't help him?
Dr. O says "Do you want me to come?" She didn't have to ask me twice. She says she's in KC and it's about a 30 minute drive, but she'll be there as soon as she can.
Charlie is now telling me to call 911. I tell Dr. O I'm gonna hang up and call 911. I will call her if we end up going somewhere else. As I hang up, the nurse at the front window says "Is she calling 911? I have EMS on the phone." I ask if they can send an ambulance. She says "Yes, but they don't have any idea how long it will take to get here." As I'm writing this, I realize I never heard another thing about any ambulance.
Suddenly, Charlie loses his resolve to leave this hospital. The panic is still there, but his eyes have changed somehow. He is now instructing me to call USAA. We had recently upped our life insurance policies and mine was taking longer to process than his so we had his on hold until my medical papers came through. Ironically, I spoke to a lady on Wed. We were to call her back Thursday afternoon for the final approval.
I hear him and I know what he means but it doesn't sink in right away. I'm thinking I have to call and make sure the policy is enacted in case he dies...
Wait, he thinks he might die! OH MY GOD, he thinks he might die! OH MY GOD, HE MIGHT DIE!!!
This can't be happening. Charlie's been to Kosovo twice, Afghanistan, Iraq and several other places where things could've gone bad. He simply CANNOT die in an ER in Leavenworth, KS.
11:12 pm - Charlie has tried to tell me where to find the phone number to USAA in his wallet. I can't find it, so I call the house and talk to Z. I ask him to Google USAA and give me the phone number.
Sometimes it stinks to be a girl. I don't know if it's a military thing or not, but everyone responds to men much more quickly and seriously than women. Take housing for example: If I call to get something fixed on the house, they'll give me a day next week that they can come. If Charlie calls, it becomes "Yes, sir, we can be out tomorrow at noon." I have a friend whose husband had to call housing from Afghanistan to get something fixed in their house.
I'm feeling the same lack of love in the ER. I don't feel like anyone is listening to me and I'm scared. I ask Z to come to the hospital. If things get crazy I know he will yell loud enough that someone will listen and God forbid something happen to Charlie, I couldn't be there alone.
Z says no problem, he'll call Lori's husband Rob to come back and sit with the kids.
11:17 pm - I call USAA and work my way through 17 or so menus.
"Would you like Savings, Checking, Investments, or Other?"
"Other"
"Would you like Auto Insurance, Personal Property Insurance, Home Owners Insurance or Life Insurance?"
"Life Insurance."
Now at this point, I can hear the EMS guy talking to the person in the curtained area less than 10 feet from me: "You called us for help and we came. Now you need to help us and tell us how much marijuana you smoked."
Seriously???
"I think you said Personal Property Insurance, is that correct?"
"NO!"
"I'm sorry I did not hear your response correctly. Would you like Auto Insurance..."
Finally, I get to "We're sorry. The Life Insurance office is currently closed. Our regular hours are Monday thru Friday......"
After not succeeding in connecting to a real live person after three tries, I hang up.
I'm thinking to myself that Dr. O should be here in about 10 minutes. I walk back over to Charlie's bed. Charlie's bleeding has slowed, but has not stopped. The ER Dr. is talking to the nurse. "Maybe we should call Dr. O back and tell her we need her to come."
"No, wait, she's coming. She should be here in about 10 minutes." I say.
"We called her back and told her not to come. We thought the bleeding had stopped."
"WHAT? Are you kidding me?" (Breathe, Mary, Breathe)
"Do you want us to call her back?"
"YES!"
The Dr. dials the number, makes sure it's Dr. O and hands me the phone. (Who exactly is in charge here?) I tell Dr. O that I thought she was on her way and just found out that they called her back. She tells me that she was dressed and walking out the door when they called and said they had it all under control. I explained that I wasn't so sure about that and I'd like her to come regardless. She asks me what the ER Dr. is saying.
I say to the Dr. "She wants to know what you think."
He nods rapidly and says "I want her to come." He looks like a scared little kid. Again, who is in charge here?
Apparently, she had told the ER Doc to "chemically caurterize" the site w/ Lidocain and Epinephrine. She doesn't think they used enough and wants them to do it again. I tell the Dr. this and he says they've already done that twice.
She sighs and says "I'll get dressed and be there as soon as I can."
After getting off the phone, the discussion turns to Dr. O and whether she has privileges at this hospital. No one seems to know, but they all seem to know her and her practice. I'm thinking "What's the issue?" Are you gonna tell me that if my husbands Dr. shows up in the ER where he is bleeding out, they are not going to let her do anything to help? Really?!?!
I sit as his bedside and start praying. I can't even think strait to do a rosary; I'm just saying Hail Mary's over and over. At one point I look up and see Nurse Angel moving her lips. I could be completely off, maybe she was reciting the constitution for a test she had Monday, but I'd put money on the fact that she was praying as well.
There is discussion regarding the cauterizing machine. They will now try to cauterize the site using the machine and nitrate sticks. Except that, they can't find the machine. I think I must be hearing things; surely they have not lost a machine!
We hear Nurse Clueless say "That darn day shift! They never put anything where it's supposed to be."
Charlie's eyes get as big as saucers. I'm trying to reassure him, but I'm starting to think we should try to go back to the medovac idea.
Someone is sent to the surgical unit to get a cauterizing machine.
At that point Z arrives. I was beginning to think he couldn't get Rob to come back to our house. He has stopped for coffee; bless his heart, not knowing that I don't drink it. But I really appreciate the effort. This does help me breathe easier because I know now if something goes bad I have someone in my corner. They say only one of us can be with Charlie at a time, so Z goes back to tell Charlie he is there.
This gives me a moment to lean against the cold cement wall of the hallway and breathe.
They wheel the cauterizer into the ER. This thing is the size of a microwave and is on a cart. Not exactly something easily lost. A discussion ensues regarding who had the pack of nitrate sticks last. Nurse Angel knows where they are.
In order to use the cauterizer, they have to "ground" Charlie. Nurse Cratchet, who has been in and out but not significant, shaves Charlie's left thigh and applies some large adhesive patch. She stops long enough to mention, "He is awfully hairy!"
"Awww, I bet you say that about all your patients!"
They cauterize one spot and the Dr. states, "Hmmmm, the artery is nicked in two places and it's actually bleeding from both sites!"
Charlie and I look at each other. He rolls his eyes. "That's what we were trying to tell you." He's ignored.
This finally seems to stop the bleeding. Charlie is sitting up and starting to talk when his blood pressure suddenly drops and he briefly passes out. I'm calling his name and Nurse Angel is getting a cold compress. He responds weakly and they lower his head. His blood pressure starts to come back up.
At this point the Dr. orders some blood test where they get his type and something else in case he needs a blood transfusion. A blood transfusion? I am praying for strength.
Dr. O shows up and again I feel relief. Things will be okay. Charlie's color has gotten better and he is up talking again.
12:08 pm - Charlie has asked me to call one of his co-workers to let them know what was going on and that he wouldn't be there tomorrow. I go out to the hall to talk to Z and make the call. I let Z do it, but it doesn't matter, it goes to voice mail.
Dr. O is checking him out and we are discussing the situation. She seems to think that the aspirin Charlie took Wed night did not contribute to his bleeding now. She said the surgery went fine, and he didn't bleed much during the procedure. It is obvious that she is very concerned.
As we continue to talk Charlie closes his eyes. He starts yawning and groaning. It's a lot like when he is extremely hung-over. The moaning and groaning continues and for the second time his blood pressure drops significantly. His head collapses onto the bed. They lower his head, get cold compresses and put the heart rate monitors all over his chest.
Dr. O asks "Haven't you started an IV yet?"
Nurse Angel says "We got the site ready when we took blood, but we haven't given him fluids yet."
The ER Dr then orders a bag of fluids to be attached.
As the first bag is emptied, Charlie is out. He seemed to fall strait asleep after the second time he passed out. He breathing was very shallow at first, but now seems more normal.
Dr. O is standing by the bed and Nurse Angel is still as his head as the three of us watch his chest slowly rise and fall. At some point, one of the alarms goes off. My heart skips a beat (or seven) but Nurse Angel quickly notices that one of the adhesives that are attached to his chest has gotten loose because while he was on the brink of passing out before, he was sweating profusely. This caused the thing to slip.
His blood pressure is back up and the color has returned to his face. I am suddenly exhausted.
They said they were going to move him to ICU. ICU? I visualize an army barracks type ward where beds are side by side and hooked up ventilators and under oxygen tents, etc.
I ask Dr. O if she would like to come out to the hall to meet our friend. Once out there, I tell her about the comedy of errors that occurred before she arrived. She just shook her head. I explain that I was sorry she had to drive all the way to Leavenworth, but I would not feel comfortable until she put her eyes on him and told me it was okay.
She completely understood and said she wouldn't have slept all night anyway, wondering how he was. She did not bad mouth the ER staff at all, but did seem unimpressed. Her opinion was that he was alright. His vitals looked good and the site had been successfully closed.
She asked me to call her the next morning and she left. Feeling like they had finally gotten things under control and that Charlie had dodged a bullet, I told Z he could leave as well. I'm thinking it was around 1:30 or 2 am.
He is still asleep as they wheel him over to the ICU. Nurse Angel is "driving" the gurney and we are accompanied by a nursing student from St. Mary's University. I honestly don't remember much from the walk to the unit, except that we talked the whole way. About what, I have no clue.
The ICU room is very nice. One wall is actually glass so you could look straight into the room from the hall. But you do have the option to pull a curtain across so it seems like a normal room. As they are wheeling Charlie into the room, I hear Nurse Angel say "Here is the gentleman from ER that we called about."
One of the nurses says "Oh, someone came and got the cautory machine for him earlier." Of course, this confirmed what we already knew, BUT went against the spin Nurse Angel tried to pull. (Her only questionable action of the night) She told Z, “He thinks we couldn’t find the cauterizing machine, but we were talking about finding the site to cauterize. We had the machine here the whole time.” I'm glad I wasn't there for that, I might've lost it!
"That was him!" I said.
Nurse Angel is talking to another nurse and I narrow in on their conversation. Nurse Angel is saying "You know when you're in surgery and the blood clots can be as big as your hand? That's the type of clots we were seeing. It was a lot of blood. A lot of blood!"
She then came over to me and said "I know how scary it is to be so worried about someone you love. How scary it is to watch them in pain and not be able to help." She gave me a hug and when she pulled away she was crying. This is the second time in my life that I've seen a nurse reduced to tears. The other time involved a still born baby. Again, maybe I'm way off and she was just having a bad day, but I'd put money on the fact that she was as worried as Charlie and I were.
As they moved Charlie to the bed in the ICU room, he woke up. The nurses introduced themselves, explained the machines and drew blood. Charlie's hemoglobin levels had dropped quite a bit since they had done the blood type test. He had gone from 19 to 13. She said they did transfusions if it got down to 8. They would be checking his blood ever few hours to make sure it was regenerating.
Once we were alone in the room we looked at each other and both laughed out loud. The absurdity of the entire night was not lost on us. We talked for a while and watched some TV. It was around 2:30 am. I figured it would be worthless to go home now and wake up Z and possibly the kids. I set my alarm for 5:30 and thought I'd try to sleep.
Charlie was watching some documentary on Jim Morrison. I was exhausted, but couldn't sleep. I finally dozed for a bit, then woke up at 5 am. Charlie woke up as well. I helped him to the bathroom and got ready to go.
Driving home was surreal. It reminded me of a church retreat I was on as a teenager. A friend was talking about being a military kid and always having to move away from places. She said every time they drove away from another "home" she would look at the people in the cars next to her as they went about their normal day.
"People were driving by and they had NO IDEA what I was going through."
In this case, I was driving down the road with a bunch of people heading to work. Just another day for them...and I felt like I'd been through my own personal war.
Friday, January 14, 2011
Saturday, January 8, 2011
Ernie: "Sorry Bert, I can't hear you, I have a banana in my ear."
It had been awhile since I paid a late night visit to the local ER. I suppose it was time.
To set the stage, Sawyer was diagnosed with yet another double ear infection and bronchitis on a Friday afternoon. This child has been the king of ear infections. Seriously, he looks at an ear, and his get infected.
Since this incident we have had a second set of tubes put in and his adenoid removed. I may as well tell you now, as much as I have read about adenoids and their removal, I still have no idea exactly what an adenoid is and how they actually removed it. Considering that I had to get up at 5am and leave at 6am to drive to KC for the surgery, it had damn well better stop the infections. I don't want my lack of sleep to be for nothing. I value my sleep. Or hadn't you noticed?
Regardless, this was pre-2nd set of tubes. We had gotten the diagnosis and started the antibiotics, the decongestants, and the nebulizer treatments. This was fun, because I usually have nothing but time on my hands and I had been looking for a new hobby.
Charlie was TDY for two weeks to Tampa. Rough business trip, huh? I am much more forgiving of the Army for taking my husband away when they send him to Afghanistan, Iraq, or even Fargo...but I have no sympathy for him having to go teach a class in Tampa. Especially when the class is three hours a day...hmmmm, should I go to the beach before I have a beer, or after?
Anyway, the point is that I was alone w/ 5 kids which is when things tend to go wrong. I had Brother and Sawyer in the tub. Sawyer was screaming when I rinsed his hair as usual. The child certainly has his quirks and sensitivity is one. I figured it may hurt b/c of the infection. I said "Do your ears hurt?" He ignored me in true Sawyer fashion. He had calmed down and started playing w/ Brother again when he started laughing and said "Jo Jo's food in my ear!"
"What?!?" I almost fell in the tub. I didn't have kids that stuck stuff in their orifices. They were weird kids, but not orifice sticking kids.
"Jo Jo food...in here!" He was painfully proud! After a few minutes I realized that I just kept repeating "What?" to everything he said. And everything he said revolved around dog food in his ear. My dad tells a story in his book "The Road to Catoctin Mountain" about a friend who got a bean stuck in his ear. Because of the moisture in his ear, the bean swelled and the end result was not pretty. (You'll have to buy the book now - you're welcome, Dad)
As I pondered that story I've heard a hundred times, all I can think is; forget about inner ear moisture, let's talk about the bucket of water I just poured over Sauce's head. I may as well have tilted his head to the side, inserted a funnel and started pumping in the gallons.
The most I could extract from Sawyer was that it was part of a Milk Bone and he put it in his right ear. Surprisingly, none of the other kids who apparently see through walls to report the offenses of others had any idea whether Sauce truly did this or not.
Because I have 4 children older than him who have lived to their current ages of 11,10,8, and 6, I took a deep breath and acted like a mature, experienced mother of five. After calling my friend, who only has four kids (underachiever) and asking her what I should do, we decided she would come over after she put her kids to bed. (Is anyone else about to bust out w/a few Bruce Springsteen lyrics?!?)
Since he didn't seem to be in pain, we figured it wasn't a major emergency. She came over around 9 and Sawyer and I embarked on yet another ER adventure.
This was not my first visit to this particular hospital's ER. It was where we took all 5 kids two days after we arrived in Kansas a year ago August. What follows is my favorite part of the conversation with the Doc that day:
"How many children did you say you had?"
"Five"
"How many children do you have with you now?"
"Five"
"No, I mean, how many am I seeing today?"
"Five"
Remember the Swine Flu? Let's just say this ER holds a special place in my heart! In addition to that trip, I've taken my Mom there when she was visiting (to take care of me- thank you very much) and Sawyer & I have been a handful of times. The time previous to this one, he puked all over me and then down the side of the garbage can I was trying to hold him over top of, while every other person in the waiting room stared strait ahead w/ vacant eyes. Yeah, I know they were sick, but how many of you could sit and witness such an event and not feel the need to get a nurse? A Kleenex? Bueller?
I think I might have parked illegally, but I tend to do that at Emergency Rooms. It's not like I park in any one's way or block the Ambulance lane, but I like to get as close as possible to the door at night. This is because #1. I'm lazy and don't like to walk far (especially when carrying a sick child). and #2. I really don't want to be the hostage that some junkie walks into the ER at knife point to get some Percocet and Valium. Oh, you can say I have an overactive imagination, but other people think of those kinds of things too. I'd put money on that being a scenario in at least 3 medical shows w/in the last 10 years!
- Cut to camera in parking lot. Lady pulls up and leans into mini-van to remove her sick child. As she straitens up, junkie #1 (in an old army jacket) puts a knife to her throat and walks her into ER waiting room while junkie #2 demands pills be put into a dirty pillowcase. They grab a few purses on the way out as mother drops to her knees clutching sick child and crying.
-Cut to nurse #1 who looks her way: "You know that doesn't move you up in the cue, right?"
Think what you want, but it could happen. (Editor's Note: I hope you realize my posts are so long b/c I have to continually stop and explain things to you. So you only have yourself to blame.) I like to park close up and will occasionally park in spaces marked "2 hour parking" even though there has yet to be a documented case of an ER visit lasting under 2 hours. I've also used a "15 minute parking" spot, because on occation I like to think I'm an optimist. Let's get it strait that never have I parked in a handicapped, doctor or clergy spot. Now that I think of it though, couldn't I claim that I brought Father Fred along for the ride? (for those of you who don't know - he's the ghost that lives in our house. Go ahead, minimize this and Google "Father Fred" see what you get. See? Explaining again! Will you all just get with the program and focus?)
After I carried Sawyer the short walk to the ER doors, we signed in. There was a rent-a-cop sitting at the desk. I don't believe he even spoke, just pointed to the sign in sheet. Sawyer is awake, but we were still at the point of me carrying him everywhere. Holding a 35 lb four year old in one arm while filling out forms with the other is no easy task, but I've had plenty of practice and as usual, I triumph!
There are 2 other couples waiting. As always, the insurance lady calls you back quickly. This is such a tease! Wow, they took us back here almost immediately, they certainly can't be busy...right?
And then we sat. And sat. And sat. And sat until my arm was asleep under Sawyer who, tho awake, was pretty tired and not really interested in venturing out to sit on his own in the seat beside me.
There's not much talking in an ER when there are no real emergencies. Most everyone in the waiting room feels horrible and there's no tolerance for chit-chat. Not that I would've had much to say to those around me. We just didn't seem to have much in common. The only true "conversation" took place when the tattooed lady told her REALLY tattooed boyfriend that she "didn't have time for this sh*#." He told a nurse who came out to have the impatient patient (couldn't pass that up) sign AMA papers.
As much as I had no desire for the woman to leave and fall gravely ill, I did a little happy dance in my head when I realized there was now only one person in front of us. That one person was in front of us for at least another 45 minutes before they got called back. Thank the Lord for the common practice of having a TV in the waiting room! Locked channels or not, it gives you something to look at. The putty colored floor holds no interest and bare hospital walls...remember, we're talking Leavenworth, Kansas not Ceder Sinai here.
I found myself sucked into an episode of CSI, which I've heard is very good, though I'm not sure I've ever seen a whole show. I first fixated on the program so as not to stare at the tattooed lady and boyfriend. Tattoos can be cool and I have no problem with anyone who has them. (That's another good story in my Dad's book - why he never got a tattoo.) I really wanted one when I lived in Seattle, but then it became so trendy, I'd like to say that's when I changed my mind. Really I never got one because I didn't have any friends out there and couldn't fathom walking into one of those places alone.
My problem, when I am in close proximity to someone who's arms or legs or neck are covered, is that I start wondering what they and their tattoo will look like when the person is, say, 75 or so. Especially a woman. I've got sandbags under my biceps at 42, what's that angel gonna look like when her right wing is drooping and 3 times wider than the left? I can't help it, I'm intrigued.
The other couple is older and the woman has a bad cold. I feel sorry for her until the Dominoes guy shows up with a pizza for the rent-a-cop. Not having a sense of smell would've come in handy at this point. The cop dives right in, leaving the box top open for the waves of 'za to fill the air. It's now about 11:45 and forget about the fact that I may have eaten a completely fulfilling dinner. It's 11:45 and there's a pizza in close proximity. Enough said.
They call the older couple back. Keep in mind, no one has left. I would never claim to have any natural mathematical abilities, but I'm thinkin' there's a pretty good chance there was at least one empty bed back there for the last two hours and 15 minutes.
"Excuse me Doc, I realize you're really jammed back there with all the major emergencies happening on a Friday night in Leavenworth, KS. Could you just hand me one of them ear things and a pair of tweezers? I'll look myself and be on my way."
So, I'm watching CSI (and am really into it), Sawyer has now fallen into a serene childhood slumber, and they call us back. Despite my initial desire to request a stay of examination, I refrain and am still able to say I have never seen an entire episode of CSI.
We are brought to a room where they decide they don't want to wake him up to get height, weight or blood pressure. But yet, the male nurse suggests I stick the thermometer in his mouth. Really? Because my son is four and autistic and wouldn't hold a thermometer in his mouth on a stellar day. Why would you think ANYONE wouldn't wake up while you stuck something in their mouth, let alone freak out when they don't know where they are or what the heck you're trying to do to them? Uh, no, we'll be putting it under his arm. Thanks!
When the Doc showed up he was very nice. That's great, you're nice, could ya speed it up a little?!?
We rolled the boy to his side and he looked. "It's red. He definitely is in the midst of a bad infection."
Thanks for sharing - Can you please tell me something I don't know?
"Sooooo, do you see anything in there that shouldn't be in there?"
"Nope, not a thing! I'll check the other ear too, make sure he didn't tell you the wrong ear. Nope, the only thing in there is an infection. He's good to go!"
And with a flip of his chart I see the last 3 hours of my life fall to the hospital floor and shatter.
Honestly, I'd rather they found a can of Alpo in there. At least it would've made a decent story...
To set the stage, Sawyer was diagnosed with yet another double ear infection and bronchitis on a Friday afternoon. This child has been the king of ear infections. Seriously, he looks at an ear, and his get infected.
Since this incident we have had a second set of tubes put in and his adenoid removed. I may as well tell you now, as much as I have read about adenoids and their removal, I still have no idea exactly what an adenoid is and how they actually removed it. Considering that I had to get up at 5am and leave at 6am to drive to KC for the surgery, it had damn well better stop the infections. I don't want my lack of sleep to be for nothing. I value my sleep. Or hadn't you noticed?
Regardless, this was pre-2nd set of tubes. We had gotten the diagnosis and started the antibiotics, the decongestants, and the nebulizer treatments. This was fun, because I usually have nothing but time on my hands and I had been looking for a new hobby.
Charlie was TDY for two weeks to Tampa. Rough business trip, huh? I am much more forgiving of the Army for taking my husband away when they send him to Afghanistan, Iraq, or even Fargo...but I have no sympathy for him having to go teach a class in Tampa. Especially when the class is three hours a day...hmmmm, should I go to the beach before I have a beer, or after?
Anyway, the point is that I was alone w/ 5 kids which is when things tend to go wrong. I had Brother and Sawyer in the tub. Sawyer was screaming when I rinsed his hair as usual. The child certainly has his quirks and sensitivity is one. I figured it may hurt b/c of the infection. I said "Do your ears hurt?" He ignored me in true Sawyer fashion. He had calmed down and started playing w/ Brother again when he started laughing and said "Jo Jo's food in my ear!"
"What?!?" I almost fell in the tub. I didn't have kids that stuck stuff in their orifices. They were weird kids, but not orifice sticking kids.
"Jo Jo food...in here!" He was painfully proud! After a few minutes I realized that I just kept repeating "What?" to everything he said. And everything he said revolved around dog food in his ear. My dad tells a story in his book "The Road to Catoctin Mountain" about a friend who got a bean stuck in his ear. Because of the moisture in his ear, the bean swelled and the end result was not pretty. (You'll have to buy the book now - you're welcome, Dad)
As I pondered that story I've heard a hundred times, all I can think is; forget about inner ear moisture, let's talk about the bucket of water I just poured over Sauce's head. I may as well have tilted his head to the side, inserted a funnel and started pumping in the gallons.
The most I could extract from Sawyer was that it was part of a Milk Bone and he put it in his right ear. Surprisingly, none of the other kids who apparently see through walls to report the offenses of others had any idea whether Sauce truly did this or not.
Because I have 4 children older than him who have lived to their current ages of 11,10,8, and 6, I took a deep breath and acted like a mature, experienced mother of five. After calling my friend, who only has four kids (underachiever) and asking her what I should do, we decided she would come over after she put her kids to bed. (Is anyone else about to bust out w/a few Bruce Springsteen lyrics?!?)
Since he didn't seem to be in pain, we figured it wasn't a major emergency. She came over around 9 and Sawyer and I embarked on yet another ER adventure.
This was not my first visit to this particular hospital's ER. It was where we took all 5 kids two days after we arrived in Kansas a year ago August. What follows is my favorite part of the conversation with the Doc that day:
"How many children did you say you had?"
"Five"
"How many children do you have with you now?"
"Five"
"No, I mean, how many am I seeing today?"
"Five"
Remember the Swine Flu? Let's just say this ER holds a special place in my heart! In addition to that trip, I've taken my Mom there when she was visiting (to take care of me- thank you very much) and Sawyer & I have been a handful of times. The time previous to this one, he puked all over me and then down the side of the garbage can I was trying to hold him over top of, while every other person in the waiting room stared strait ahead w/ vacant eyes. Yeah, I know they were sick, but how many of you could sit and witness such an event and not feel the need to get a nurse? A Kleenex? Bueller?
I think I might have parked illegally, but I tend to do that at Emergency Rooms. It's not like I park in any one's way or block the Ambulance lane, but I like to get as close as possible to the door at night. This is because #1. I'm lazy and don't like to walk far (especially when carrying a sick child). and #2. I really don't want to be the hostage that some junkie walks into the ER at knife point to get some Percocet and Valium. Oh, you can say I have an overactive imagination, but other people think of those kinds of things too. I'd put money on that being a scenario in at least 3 medical shows w/in the last 10 years!
- Cut to camera in parking lot. Lady pulls up and leans into mini-van to remove her sick child. As she straitens up, junkie #1 (in an old army jacket) puts a knife to her throat and walks her into ER waiting room while junkie #2 demands pills be put into a dirty pillowcase. They grab a few purses on the way out as mother drops to her knees clutching sick child and crying.
-Cut to nurse #1 who looks her way: "You know that doesn't move you up in the cue, right?"
Think what you want, but it could happen. (Editor's Note: I hope you realize my posts are so long b/c I have to continually stop and explain things to you. So you only have yourself to blame.) I like to park close up and will occasionally park in spaces marked "2 hour parking" even though there has yet to be a documented case of an ER visit lasting under 2 hours. I've also used a "15 minute parking" spot, because on occation I like to think I'm an optimist. Let's get it strait that never have I parked in a handicapped, doctor or clergy spot. Now that I think of it though, couldn't I claim that I brought Father Fred along for the ride? (for those of you who don't know - he's the ghost that lives in our house. Go ahead, minimize this and Google "Father Fred" see what you get. See? Explaining again! Will you all just get with the program and focus?)
After I carried Sawyer the short walk to the ER doors, we signed in. There was a rent-a-cop sitting at the desk. I don't believe he even spoke, just pointed to the sign in sheet. Sawyer is awake, but we were still at the point of me carrying him everywhere. Holding a 35 lb four year old in one arm while filling out forms with the other is no easy task, but I've had plenty of practice and as usual, I triumph!
There are 2 other couples waiting. As always, the insurance lady calls you back quickly. This is such a tease! Wow, they took us back here almost immediately, they certainly can't be busy...right?
And then we sat. And sat. And sat. And sat until my arm was asleep under Sawyer who, tho awake, was pretty tired and not really interested in venturing out to sit on his own in the seat beside me.
There's not much talking in an ER when there are no real emergencies. Most everyone in the waiting room feels horrible and there's no tolerance for chit-chat. Not that I would've had much to say to those around me. We just didn't seem to have much in common. The only true "conversation" took place when the tattooed lady told her REALLY tattooed boyfriend that she "didn't have time for this sh*#." He told a nurse who came out to have the impatient patient (couldn't pass that up) sign AMA papers.
As much as I had no desire for the woman to leave and fall gravely ill, I did a little happy dance in my head when I realized there was now only one person in front of us. That one person was in front of us for at least another 45 minutes before they got called back. Thank the Lord for the common practice of having a TV in the waiting room! Locked channels or not, it gives you something to look at. The putty colored floor holds no interest and bare hospital walls...remember, we're talking Leavenworth, Kansas not Ceder Sinai here.
I found myself sucked into an episode of CSI, which I've heard is very good, though I'm not sure I've ever seen a whole show. I first fixated on the program so as not to stare at the tattooed lady and boyfriend. Tattoos can be cool and I have no problem with anyone who has them. (That's another good story in my Dad's book - why he never got a tattoo.) I really wanted one when I lived in Seattle, but then it became so trendy, I'd like to say that's when I changed my mind. Really I never got one because I didn't have any friends out there and couldn't fathom walking into one of those places alone.
My problem, when I am in close proximity to someone who's arms or legs or neck are covered, is that I start wondering what they and their tattoo will look like when the person is, say, 75 or so. Especially a woman. I've got sandbags under my biceps at 42, what's that angel gonna look like when her right wing is drooping and 3 times wider than the left? I can't help it, I'm intrigued.
The other couple is older and the woman has a bad cold. I feel sorry for her until the Dominoes guy shows up with a pizza for the rent-a-cop. Not having a sense of smell would've come in handy at this point. The cop dives right in, leaving the box top open for the waves of 'za to fill the air. It's now about 11:45 and forget about the fact that I may have eaten a completely fulfilling dinner. It's 11:45 and there's a pizza in close proximity. Enough said.
They call the older couple back. Keep in mind, no one has left. I would never claim to have any natural mathematical abilities, but I'm thinkin' there's a pretty good chance there was at least one empty bed back there for the last two hours and 15 minutes.
"Excuse me Doc, I realize you're really jammed back there with all the major emergencies happening on a Friday night in Leavenworth, KS. Could you just hand me one of them ear things and a pair of tweezers? I'll look myself and be on my way."
So, I'm watching CSI (and am really into it), Sawyer has now fallen into a serene childhood slumber, and they call us back. Despite my initial desire to request a stay of examination, I refrain and am still able to say I have never seen an entire episode of CSI.
We are brought to a room where they decide they don't want to wake him up to get height, weight or blood pressure. But yet, the male nurse suggests I stick the thermometer in his mouth. Really? Because my son is four and autistic and wouldn't hold a thermometer in his mouth on a stellar day. Why would you think ANYONE wouldn't wake up while you stuck something in their mouth, let alone freak out when they don't know where they are or what the heck you're trying to do to them? Uh, no, we'll be putting it under his arm. Thanks!
When the Doc showed up he was very nice. That's great, you're nice, could ya speed it up a little?!?
We rolled the boy to his side and he looked. "It's red. He definitely is in the midst of a bad infection."
Thanks for sharing - Can you please tell me something I don't know?
"Sooooo, do you see anything in there that shouldn't be in there?"
"Nope, not a thing! I'll check the other ear too, make sure he didn't tell you the wrong ear. Nope, the only thing in there is an infection. He's good to go!"
And with a flip of his chart I see the last 3 hours of my life fall to the hospital floor and shatter.
Honestly, I'd rather they found a can of Alpo in there. At least it would've made a decent story...
Thursday, January 6, 2011
The Order of Things
Forward:
So, in the last post, I decided I was going to write a bit every night. And that, of course, was 4 days ago. Maybe if I count in dog years, my postings will seem closer together. Or would that be further apart? Now I've completely confused my simple brain.
As always, I have an excuse. Well, not a direct excuse for not writing, but an excuse for being paralyzed into not getting anything done the other day. This excuse covers why Josie had to go to school in "not quite dry" pants this morning fresh from the dryer, why Charlie missed the bus, why Lyra wasn't talking to me on the way to the doctor today, why I was late for the appointment, and pretty much anything else that's gone awry in the last few days.
I call it a blanket excuse. I figure, why waste time coming up with different excuses for each of the things I screw up when I can use one big excuse for everything? Works for me!
Prologue:
Wednesday morning the kids were back to school for the second day. I was reminded that morning what I seem to have to re-learn every September and after any long break. The first day back is not the hardest day to wake the kids, in fact, it's the easiest day of that first week. As the week progresses it gets increasingly difficult to coax, schlepp, and/or extract the kids from their nice toasty cocoons. (I do think it's worse in the winter, since it's freezing and so dark out. Given the option, I'd stay in bed too!)
For the first time in weeks they not only are they forced to rise before light and change out of their pajamas, (The Horror!!!!) but they must set foot outside the house and get on that dreaded mode of public transportation...the bus! From there, it only gets worse as they are driven to prison, I mean school. A place where there is no Wii, no Disney Channel, no calling and texting friends with the new cell phone you got for Christmas. (Forget the fact that you are now in close enough proximity to speak to your friends, because it just isn't the same.)
Happily, I returned from the bus stop that morning (Wed) and tried to go back to sleep. Sawyer, who, due to a curse put upon me at birth, does not return to school until next week, was not having it! He wanted me to play Wii Fit Plus. "It not Wii Fit Momma, it Wii Fit PLUS! Now kindly refer to your new piece of entertainment equipment in the correct fashion you pathetic, foolish woman." Did I mention that Sawyer is Stewie Griffin in human form?
Fine. I go up with him to play Wii Fit PLUS. I'd been avoiding making a Mii for my Christmas present, b/c I wanted to be sure I could do the whole "body test" and see what age the Wii thought I might be. It told Tali when she was 11 that she was presenting like a 65 year old. I've heard many friends tell me they were appalled at the machines' assessment of them. I see no point of doing such things with an audience. Sawyer, however, was determined to have me log in as the girls forced him the night before to remove his Mii dog and Mii cat off the game so there'd be room for mine. (By the way, Mii animals? Really?) So after he jumps on my head enough times to force me to get vertical, we do the test. I've decided that bragging is completely under-rated because the Wii PUT ME AT MY OWN AGE AND TOLD ME I DIDN'T HAVE TO LOSE WEIGHT, BUT IT MIGHT BE HELPFUL TO GET MY BMI DOWN TO 22 - I WAS AT 22.41 CHECK ME OUT BABY!!!!!!
So, after the excitement of dodging wrecker balls, walking tightrope, and heading soccer balls (& avoiding panda heads), we leave to pick up Josie from school for a Dr. appt. For the first time in the 4 1/2 years of his life, Sawyer decides he wants to dress himself. I'm all for Independence, just not at 10:55 am when I need to get Josie from school and deliver her to the Dr's by 11:15am. Lord help me. So we finally get out of the house. Sawyer looks like a refugee w/ black dress cords and an old green Nike t-shirt. I hope I run into ALL my friends and more importantly, each and every one of my enemies!!!
I won't even go into the issue of arriving at the front desk to realize I didn't have my purse and having to go back down to the parking lot where we had spent 10 minutes looking for a spot, only to find I'd left it at the house which thankfully is only two streets away. So I drove home, got the purse, drove back and by the grace of God found a parking spot in less then 2 minutes. I also won't tell you that I left Josie in the waiting room w/ Sawyer as bringing them would've added about 20 extra minutes to the exercise. As it was, I did it in less than 12. There's also no need to tell you that despite the fact that I told the woman at the front desk that I had to get my purse and that we were there on time, I had to grovel to have Josie seen as going to get my purse caused me to be more than 5 minutes late and therefore should be oh so thankful that they lowered themselves to see us. (Patients are such a waste of a Doctors time, don't you think?) Actually, they were pretty nice about it. I've certainly had worse.
Now that I haven't bored you with too many details. I'll tell you that I took Josie back to school and went to see my friend who so rudely went to her in-laws for Christmas break leaving me here alone with no one to call when I needed to rant. On the way to said friends' house, I called the therapist that was supposed to start seeing Sawyer in September. It's way too long and complicated to go into (you know how I like to make a long story short) but between red tape and extenuating circumstances, we had only seen her a handful of times and hadn't seen her at all since October. I can be frustrated as hell, but it really doesn't mean a thing. What matters is, my child, who's on the autistic spectrum is not getting the therapy he so desperately needs. He's miserable at school, the teachers are not supportive, it's a crappy situation and I needed this therapist to come through...YESTERDAY! I admit, I called at a moment of desperation and uncharacteristically, was a bit pushy. I was subtly saying that if we didn't see her this week, we may have to look into finding someone else. Of course I totally did not want to do that. The time already invested was way beyond what I had the energy to think about.
I parked my butt on the big comfy chair in my friends bedroom and we caught up on all the horrible things our kids did over the holidays. She definitely won the round as she had in-law stories. (and they were good ones) I had been smart enough to avoid any interaction with family over the break.
As I was trying out my first chocolate chip pop tart (not bad, but smores still rank #1) my phone rang and it was the therapist. She told me she'd left me a few messages (none of which I'd gotten) and she was on her way right now, she'd be there in about 20 minutes.
I gathered an annoyed Sawyer and we went home. Here is where my story begins:
Chapter One:
I'm standing in the kitchen. I have several (at least 6) loads of laundry upstairs waiting to be washed. I think to myself, I have about 10 minutes, what can I get done?
I debate on putting in a load of laundry. I peek into the laundry room to asses the situation. (No! The guy from Jersey Shore does not hang out in my laundry room, duh!)
And here's where I get paralysed.
I can't put in a load of laundry b/c there's a load already in the washer.
I can't move the load from the washer to the dryer b/c there is a load in there.
I can't take the load out of the dryer b/c I don't have a laundry basket down here.
I can't bring the laundry basket downstairs without folding the laundry that is currently in it.
I can't fold the laundry that's currently in it, b/c I didn't make my bed this morning.
I can't chance going upstairs to make my bed, b/c I can't hear the doorbell when I'm on the second floor.
Conclusion:
You can see my dilemma and how my hands were tied. Therefore, my solution was to do nothing. Wait, I take that back, I did do something. I made myself a sandwich and it was quite tasty indeed!
So, in the last post, I decided I was going to write a bit every night. And that, of course, was 4 days ago. Maybe if I count in dog years, my postings will seem closer together. Or would that be further apart? Now I've completely confused my simple brain.
As always, I have an excuse. Well, not a direct excuse for not writing, but an excuse for being paralyzed into not getting anything done the other day. This excuse covers why Josie had to go to school in "not quite dry" pants this morning fresh from the dryer, why Charlie missed the bus, why Lyra wasn't talking to me on the way to the doctor today, why I was late for the appointment, and pretty much anything else that's gone awry in the last few days.
I call it a blanket excuse. I figure, why waste time coming up with different excuses for each of the things I screw up when I can use one big excuse for everything? Works for me!
Prologue:
Wednesday morning the kids were back to school for the second day. I was reminded that morning what I seem to have to re-learn every September and after any long break. The first day back is not the hardest day to wake the kids, in fact, it's the easiest day of that first week. As the week progresses it gets increasingly difficult to coax, schlepp, and/or extract the kids from their nice toasty cocoons. (I do think it's worse in the winter, since it's freezing and so dark out. Given the option, I'd stay in bed too!)
For the first time in weeks they not only are they forced to rise before light and change out of their pajamas, (The Horror!!!!) but they must set foot outside the house and get on that dreaded mode of public transportation...the bus! From there, it only gets worse as they are driven to prison, I mean school. A place where there is no Wii, no Disney Channel, no calling and texting friends with the new cell phone you got for Christmas. (Forget the fact that you are now in close enough proximity to speak to your friends, because it just isn't the same.)
Happily, I returned from the bus stop that morning (Wed) and tried to go back to sleep. Sawyer, who, due to a curse put upon me at birth, does not return to school until next week, was not having it! He wanted me to play Wii Fit Plus. "It not Wii Fit Momma, it Wii Fit PLUS! Now kindly refer to your new piece of entertainment equipment in the correct fashion you pathetic, foolish woman." Did I mention that Sawyer is Stewie Griffin in human form?
Fine. I go up with him to play Wii Fit PLUS. I'd been avoiding making a Mii for my Christmas present, b/c I wanted to be sure I could do the whole "body test" and see what age the Wii thought I might be. It told Tali when she was 11 that she was presenting like a 65 year old. I've heard many friends tell me they were appalled at the machines' assessment of them. I see no point of doing such things with an audience. Sawyer, however, was determined to have me log in as the girls forced him the night before to remove his Mii dog and Mii cat off the game so there'd be room for mine. (By the way, Mii animals? Really?) So after he jumps on my head enough times to force me to get vertical, we do the test. I've decided that bragging is completely under-rated because the Wii PUT ME AT MY OWN AGE AND TOLD ME I DIDN'T HAVE TO LOSE WEIGHT, BUT IT MIGHT BE HELPFUL TO GET MY BMI DOWN TO 22 - I WAS AT 22.41 CHECK ME OUT BABY!!!!!!
So, after the excitement of dodging wrecker balls, walking tightrope, and heading soccer balls (& avoiding panda heads), we leave to pick up Josie from school for a Dr. appt. For the first time in the 4 1/2 years of his life, Sawyer decides he wants to dress himself. I'm all for Independence, just not at 10:55 am when I need to get Josie from school and deliver her to the Dr's by 11:15am. Lord help me. So we finally get out of the house. Sawyer looks like a refugee w/ black dress cords and an old green Nike t-shirt. I hope I run into ALL my friends and more importantly, each and every one of my enemies!!!
I won't even go into the issue of arriving at the front desk to realize I didn't have my purse and having to go back down to the parking lot where we had spent 10 minutes looking for a spot, only to find I'd left it at the house which thankfully is only two streets away. So I drove home, got the purse, drove back and by the grace of God found a parking spot in less then 2 minutes. I also won't tell you that I left Josie in the waiting room w/ Sawyer as bringing them would've added about 20 extra minutes to the exercise. As it was, I did it in less than 12. There's also no need to tell you that despite the fact that I told the woman at the front desk that I had to get my purse and that we were there on time, I had to grovel to have Josie seen as going to get my purse caused me to be more than 5 minutes late and therefore should be oh so thankful that they lowered themselves to see us. (Patients are such a waste of a Doctors time, don't you think?) Actually, they were pretty nice about it. I've certainly had worse.
Now that I haven't bored you with too many details. I'll tell you that I took Josie back to school and went to see my friend who so rudely went to her in-laws for Christmas break leaving me here alone with no one to call when I needed to rant. On the way to said friends' house, I called the therapist that was supposed to start seeing Sawyer in September. It's way too long and complicated to go into (you know how I like to make a long story short) but between red tape and extenuating circumstances, we had only seen her a handful of times and hadn't seen her at all since October. I can be frustrated as hell, but it really doesn't mean a thing. What matters is, my child, who's on the autistic spectrum is not getting the therapy he so desperately needs. He's miserable at school, the teachers are not supportive, it's a crappy situation and I needed this therapist to come through...YESTERDAY! I admit, I called at a moment of desperation and uncharacteristically, was a bit pushy. I was subtly saying that if we didn't see her this week, we may have to look into finding someone else. Of course I totally did not want to do that. The time already invested was way beyond what I had the energy to think about.
I parked my butt on the big comfy chair in my friends bedroom and we caught up on all the horrible things our kids did over the holidays. She definitely won the round as she had in-law stories. (and they were good ones) I had been smart enough to avoid any interaction with family over the break.
As I was trying out my first chocolate chip pop tart (not bad, but smores still rank #1) my phone rang and it was the therapist. She told me she'd left me a few messages (none of which I'd gotten) and she was on her way right now, she'd be there in about 20 minutes.
I gathered an annoyed Sawyer and we went home. Here is where my story begins:
Chapter One:
I'm standing in the kitchen. I have several (at least 6) loads of laundry upstairs waiting to be washed. I think to myself, I have about 10 minutes, what can I get done?
I debate on putting in a load of laundry. I peek into the laundry room to asses the situation. (No! The guy from Jersey Shore does not hang out in my laundry room, duh!)
And here's where I get paralysed.
I can't put in a load of laundry b/c there's a load already in the washer.
I can't move the load from the washer to the dryer b/c there is a load in there.
I can't take the load out of the dryer b/c I don't have a laundry basket down here.
I can't bring the laundry basket downstairs without folding the laundry that is currently in it.
I can't fold the laundry that's currently in it, b/c I didn't make my bed this morning.
I can't chance going upstairs to make my bed, b/c I can't hear the doorbell when I'm on the second floor.
Conclusion:
You can see my dilemma and how my hands were tied. Therefore, my solution was to do nothing. Wait, I take that back, I did do something. I made myself a sandwich and it was quite tasty indeed!
Saturday, January 1, 2011
Took me long enough...
I've never been one to do anything in a timely manner. I'm late no matter what I do. Although, I usually have a very good excuse. Do you really want me to be on time for church if Sawyer and I are covered in his vomit? Yeah, I didn't think so. But that's a whole other post...when I get around to it.
Before Charlie deployed I fantasized about not having to cook dinner and having 1/7 less laundry to do. And let me tell ya, those were fantasies worthy of a column (or two) in the "forum!" It was very hard to see him go and I was more worried this deployment than I ever have been, BUT there's something to be said for "breakfast for dinner" and a few less loads of ACUs (Advanced Combat Uniforms)!
I couldn't wait for the days the kids would go to school and I could be my own boss and do whatever I wanted all day. I wouldn't have to make the bed if I didn't want to, I wouldn't have to be available for lunch if Charlie came home, I'd have complete control of the remote 24/7. I was really looking forward to putting the kids in bed and having the evening to myself. Somehow, it didn't work out that way.
The kids were a mess w/ him gone and any thoughts of getting my own stuff done went down the sink drain while I did the millions of dishes the kids piled up each day. The ONE household chore Charlie has done consistently, no questions asked, since the day we got married, is the dishes. I know, I know, that's amazing blah, blah, blah, but I will have more to say about that someday when I get the time...
The point is, that I had one less person in the house and I thought it would give me more time. However, just the fact of him being gone for the reason he was gone, caused more time consuming problems than anticipated.
I was having to spend more time at the kids schools b/c they were falling apart. Without throwing my kids under the bus by name and thus giving someone out in internet land some specific ammunition regarding my offspring, I'll just say that they needed support. When my support was not enough and school support couldn't deal with the problem, I began looking for extra support. This came in the way of therapy for one child, then two, and eventually I figured what the hell, I may as well get some time on the couch too.
Counseling was a good decision on many levels. And I'm sure it was one of the reasons we all survived the deployment. However, along w/ the guidance for raising children who can survive in today's world, therapy comes with a major downfall. IT EATS UP TIME!!!!
You're probably thinking, one or two appts a week, "What's the big deal?" The big deal is this: Child A has an appt at noon on Monday. This means I have from about 9:30 (when I detangle Sawyer from my leg at preschool) til 11:30 to get to gym, work out for an hour, get home, shower and head to school to pick up Child A for said appointment. The appt gets out around 12:45. We then go to McDonald's or Wendy's (I prefer Wendy's) drive thru b/c Child A has now missed lunch. (I prefer they miss lunch over math or other subjects I never absorbed) Now we are getting back to school around 1:15. We only get back sooner if the drive thru girl is not hungover and remembers to put the straw in the bag the first time we circle the restaurant. So, we arrive at school and I am required to walk Child A into school to sign them back in. (Why schools don't have a drive thru entrance I'll never know) After signing Child A in, I look at their face to gage my ability to exit. More times than not, I get the pleading eyes that say "PLEASE walk me to my classroom b/c I can't face having everyone look at me when I walk into a room w/ a group of my peers where I already feel like I don't fit in."
I walk them to the classroom. I can't help it. I know that soon enough they'd rather stick pins in their eyeballs than have me walk them to class. So I do. On the way, because I have 3 other children in the school, we invariably pass one of the other kids' classrooms or one of the specials classrooms(library, science, etc) where one of the siblings is. I can usually make eye contact and trade a thumbs up or a wave with Child B, C, or D. And maybe even 2 of the 3. But now the stakes have been raised. Whoa to the parent who touches base with only a portion of their spawns on a quick trip through the school hallways! All it takes is a discussion between sibs on the walk home from the bus stop to ruin the afternoon.
Child B: Why was Mom at school today?
Child D: Mom was at school today?
Child A: I had a Dr. Appt.
Child D: Mom was at school...today?
Child B: Did she walk by the library when she was picking you up or dropping you off?
Child D: Mom was there today...at our school?
Child A: That was when she was dropping me off.
Child D: She was inside the school?
Child C: Did she take you to lunch?
Child D: OUR MOM?!?!
Child A: Yeah, McDonald's.
Child D: McDonald's?!? (note the change of topic)
Child C: That's not fair!
Child D: McDonald's?!?
Child B: Whatever! She takes you to lunch all the time too. I never get to go to the Dr and get lunch!
At this point they have reached the front door. Child D is ALWAYS first onto the porch and refuses to open the door for himself. He insists on ringing the door bell even when the door is unlocked and ajar. I get to the door ready for hugs and kisses and "how was your day" and I am met w/ a backpack to the gut and a coat on my feet as Child D proclaims: "You never come to see me when you're at school and now I want McDonald's too!"
Welcome Home!
Back to my original point, before I so rudely interrupted myself. If I can get in and out of the school in less than 15 minutes - rare - I have a whopping 30 minutes before I have to pick up Sawyer from school. This is enough time to drive home, pee in the downstairs potty (as I won't have the time to go to the upstairs one), and drive over to the CDC to pick up Sawyer. My day as I know it is now over! On days I feel energetic I may try to run to the commissary after picking up Sawyer, but after a few times of bringing home a carload of chicken nuggets, meatballs and yogurt, I've learned that's not always such a good idea.
There you have it. One more day of my life lost into the vortex of time and space. I'm sure that still seems like no big deal. Now, do that twice during the school week and then add a regular medical appt in there somewhere b/c someone is always sick. Plus, figure on a few after school appts for Sawyer during the week.
By the time the kids are home from school, it's time for basketball, Girl Scouts, play dates and homework. Then dinner. Even if it is scrambled eggs, dishes get dirty. I can assure you we used several trees worth of paper plates while he was gone. But still, there were dishes to do and tables to wipe and tubs to give and by the time the I shoveled the last child into their bed and read a few pages of whatever it was we were reading, I was done. Many were the nights that I fell asleep reading to the kids and woke around midnight to shuffle off to my own bed. If I did manage to stay awake through 2 riveting chapters of the Magic Tree House, it was pretty much all I could do to change into pjs and crawl to my own bed.
I had rearranged our Netfliks cue after Charlie left b/c I was gonna watch all the movies I knew he wasn't interested in while he was gone. I don't like to admit this in public, but I've never even seen a scene of Sex in the City. I was gonna watch the series since I had 6 months to do it. In the six months he was gone, I think I watched 2 movies. I was just too tired. I did read more though...oh SNAP!!!
I just remembered that the reason I started writing this last night, was because I wanted to review a book. I felt guilty (as any good Catholic would) about the fact that I haven't been blogging at all.
It got me thinking about how much I didn't get done while Charlie was gone and how, now that he's back...I still can't get anything done. But that a whole other post...when I have a chance...
So, here's to the New Year, and to trying to find a few minutes everyday to write!
Before Charlie deployed I fantasized about not having to cook dinner and having 1/7 less laundry to do. And let me tell ya, those were fantasies worthy of a column (or two) in the "forum!" It was very hard to see him go and I was more worried this deployment than I ever have been, BUT there's something to be said for "breakfast for dinner" and a few less loads of ACUs (Advanced Combat Uniforms)!
I couldn't wait for the days the kids would go to school and I could be my own boss and do whatever I wanted all day. I wouldn't have to make the bed if I didn't want to, I wouldn't have to be available for lunch if Charlie came home, I'd have complete control of the remote 24/7. I was really looking forward to putting the kids in bed and having the evening to myself. Somehow, it didn't work out that way.
The kids were a mess w/ him gone and any thoughts of getting my own stuff done went down the sink drain while I did the millions of dishes the kids piled up each day. The ONE household chore Charlie has done consistently, no questions asked, since the day we got married, is the dishes. I know, I know, that's amazing blah, blah, blah, but I will have more to say about that someday when I get the time...
The point is, that I had one less person in the house and I thought it would give me more time. However, just the fact of him being gone for the reason he was gone, caused more time consuming problems than anticipated.
I was having to spend more time at the kids schools b/c they were falling apart. Without throwing my kids under the bus by name and thus giving someone out in internet land some specific ammunition regarding my offspring, I'll just say that they needed support. When my support was not enough and school support couldn't deal with the problem, I began looking for extra support. This came in the way of therapy for one child, then two, and eventually I figured what the hell, I may as well get some time on the couch too.
Counseling was a good decision on many levels. And I'm sure it was one of the reasons we all survived the deployment. However, along w/ the guidance for raising children who can survive in today's world, therapy comes with a major downfall. IT EATS UP TIME!!!!
You're probably thinking, one or two appts a week, "What's the big deal?" The big deal is this: Child A has an appt at noon on Monday. This means I have from about 9:30 (when I detangle Sawyer from my leg at preschool) til 11:30 to get to gym, work out for an hour, get home, shower and head to school to pick up Child A for said appointment. The appt gets out around 12:45. We then go to McDonald's or Wendy's (I prefer Wendy's) drive thru b/c Child A has now missed lunch. (I prefer they miss lunch over math or other subjects I never absorbed) Now we are getting back to school around 1:15. We only get back sooner if the drive thru girl is not hungover and remembers to put the straw in the bag the first time we circle the restaurant. So, we arrive at school and I am required to walk Child A into school to sign them back in. (Why schools don't have a drive thru entrance I'll never know) After signing Child A in, I look at their face to gage my ability to exit. More times than not, I get the pleading eyes that say "PLEASE walk me to my classroom b/c I can't face having everyone look at me when I walk into a room w/ a group of my peers where I already feel like I don't fit in."
I walk them to the classroom. I can't help it. I know that soon enough they'd rather stick pins in their eyeballs than have me walk them to class. So I do. On the way, because I have 3 other children in the school, we invariably pass one of the other kids' classrooms or one of the specials classrooms(library, science, etc) where one of the siblings is. I can usually make eye contact and trade a thumbs up or a wave with Child B, C, or D. And maybe even 2 of the 3. But now the stakes have been raised. Whoa to the parent who touches base with only a portion of their spawns on a quick trip through the school hallways! All it takes is a discussion between sibs on the walk home from the bus stop to ruin the afternoon.
Child B: Why was Mom at school today?
Child D: Mom was at school today?
Child A: I had a Dr. Appt.
Child D: Mom was at school...today?
Child B: Did she walk by the library when she was picking you up or dropping you off?
Child D: Mom was there today...at our school?
Child A: That was when she was dropping me off.
Child D: She was inside the school?
Child C: Did she take you to lunch?
Child D: OUR MOM?!?!
Child A: Yeah, McDonald's.
Child D: McDonald's?!? (note the change of topic)
Child C: That's not fair!
Child D: McDonald's?!?
Child B: Whatever! She takes you to lunch all the time too. I never get to go to the Dr and get lunch!
At this point they have reached the front door. Child D is ALWAYS first onto the porch and refuses to open the door for himself. He insists on ringing the door bell even when the door is unlocked and ajar. I get to the door ready for hugs and kisses and "how was your day" and I am met w/ a backpack to the gut and a coat on my feet as Child D proclaims: "You never come to see me when you're at school and now I want McDonald's too!"
Welcome Home!
Back to my original point, before I so rudely interrupted myself. If I can get in and out of the school in less than 15 minutes - rare - I have a whopping 30 minutes before I have to pick up Sawyer from school. This is enough time to drive home, pee in the downstairs potty (as I won't have the time to go to the upstairs one), and drive over to the CDC to pick up Sawyer. My day as I know it is now over! On days I feel energetic I may try to run to the commissary after picking up Sawyer, but after a few times of bringing home a carload of chicken nuggets, meatballs and yogurt, I've learned that's not always such a good idea.
There you have it. One more day of my life lost into the vortex of time and space. I'm sure that still seems like no big deal. Now, do that twice during the school week and then add a regular medical appt in there somewhere b/c someone is always sick. Plus, figure on a few after school appts for Sawyer during the week.
By the time the kids are home from school, it's time for basketball, Girl Scouts, play dates and homework. Then dinner. Even if it is scrambled eggs, dishes get dirty. I can assure you we used several trees worth of paper plates while he was gone. But still, there were dishes to do and tables to wipe and tubs to give and by the time the I shoveled the last child into their bed and read a few pages of whatever it was we were reading, I was done. Many were the nights that I fell asleep reading to the kids and woke around midnight to shuffle off to my own bed. If I did manage to stay awake through 2 riveting chapters of the Magic Tree House, it was pretty much all I could do to change into pjs and crawl to my own bed.
I had rearranged our Netfliks cue after Charlie left b/c I was gonna watch all the movies I knew he wasn't interested in while he was gone. I don't like to admit this in public, but I've never even seen a scene of Sex in the City. I was gonna watch the series since I had 6 months to do it. In the six months he was gone, I think I watched 2 movies. I was just too tired. I did read more though...oh SNAP!!!
I just remembered that the reason I started writing this last night, was because I wanted to review a book. I felt guilty (as any good Catholic would) about the fact that I haven't been blogging at all.
It got me thinking about how much I didn't get done while Charlie was gone and how, now that he's back...I still can't get anything done. But that a whole other post...when I have a chance...
So, here's to the New Year, and to trying to find a few minutes everyday to write!
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