Return to the ER

For several years I spent tons of time in various emergency rooms, hospitals, and rehab centers. It is rare to not drive past one of those places as I go about my day. Sometimes I actually drive out of my way to avoid going past one of them because the memories cause me undo stress and heart palpitations, not something I ever thought I would voice out loud. My gym that I avoid as much as possible travel to rarely daily is a part of a hospital so I drive past the ER each and every time I visit the gym. Most of the time I try to ignore the voice that jumps into my head reminding me of bad times, but Tuesday the voice shouted, and I let the feelings come and then I worked them out on the elliptical and put them away. Last night, however, everything exploded.

It was a typical evening. I was alone. Darcy was out. Tom was working. Eventually they came home and we went about our nightly routine of homework, mindless television, and stroking the dog's ego. At some point in all of that the daughter casually mentioned in passing that she had a terrible stomach ache.

10:45 p.m. - Casual mention of stomach ache. Parents nodded.
11:10 p.m. - Daughter kisses us goodnight. Whines about stomach ache and mentions that she feels like she is going to throw up. Mother reacts accordingly, meaning freaks out. Daughter says she hasn't gone through her "stages of vomiting yet" and will get back to us.
12:30 a.m. - Father is in bed. Mother is sitting under fan in living room after shower to cool off and keep hot flashes at bay. Daughter comes out of bedroom, kneels by the toilet for several minutes. Comes out and says stomach is really, really hurting. Mother checks her for fever and asks the medical questions again, racking her brain for all the things she learned as a mother in medical school. Tells her to wake her if needed. Both go to bed.
1:00 a.m. - Daughter pokes mother and tells her that "something isn't right". Both go out to the living room. Mother rubs daughter's back, head, and runs through the questions again.
1:15 a.m. - No change. Father's snoring can be heard from the bedroom.
1:30 a.m. - No change. Daughter can't get comfortable. Mother gives her water. Standing, drinking, and rolling from side to side makes daughter nauseated. Father snoring louder.
1:45 a.m. - Mother Googles the big, wide web on information about stabbing stomach pain. Also looks up on which side the appendix is located. Mother apparently did not retain this from her medical school training any more than she retained geography. Father sleeping.
2:00 a.m. - Daughter tells mother she can't take it any more. Mother texts friend who works at children's hospital and is currently at work. She calls mother and a discussion is had regarding which hospital.
2:10 a.m. Mother wakes up snoring father and suggests the hospital. Father agrees, but disagrees about the 45 minute drive to children's hospital. Insists on hospital up the street. Rolls over and goes back to sleep. HE WORKS.
2:15 a.m. - Mother drives daughter to ER up the street. She second guesses herself the entire way. She should have gone to children's hospital.
2:22 a.m. - Arrive at ER. Daughter has a low grade temperature. Mother fills out paperwork and tries to ignore anxiety about being back in an ER.
3:10 a.m. - Called to back room to discuss medical issue. Told there is a three hour wait. Mother pissed. Should have gone south to children's hospital.
3:39 a.m. - Called back to the ER.

Darcy: "Whoa. This is bringing back a lot of memories about Grandma."
Me: "Yes, it is."

The smells, the hallway, the bed, the nurse and her rolling cart, the IV, and my sitting useless in a chair by the bedside. Holy been there, done that. It made me feel better to know she felt it too, even more so being on the same side, lying in the hospital bed with an IV and feeling miserable. It was odd not to have the humor, the questioning of all hospital personal, and the beep, beep of machines. Darcy had brought her Steelers blanket, but her feet were bare. We reminisced about all of the hospital socks that Grandma had collected over all of her stays. I peeked through unlocked supply drawers without prompting. It was surreal. And scary. My kid was in the ER.

3:45 a.m. - Sexy male doctor appeared. Wrong curtained room. We felt deflated. He was FINE.
3:47 a.m. - Ashley, the PA appeared. Pushed on the stomach. Darcy moaned. Ashley said "we are concerned about the appendix." I assured her "we were too".
4:01 a.m. - Blood taken. IV of saline dripping in the vein. CT Scan scheduled.
4:23 a.m. - Three medications inserted into the IV, one for pain, one for nausea, one for stomach
4:45 a.m. - Dye Contrast CAT Scan
5:05 a.m. - Sexy male doctor back.

Darcy's white blood count was elevated and the appendix enlarged. No panic as the other three indicators, urine, strands in appendix, and appendix wall thickness, were all negative. She had two ovarian cysts and fluid in the ovary. Possible burst cyst. Sexy doctor said it was now a waiting game. Could be early onset appendicitis or ruptured cyst. Discharged for a "wait and see".

5:22 a.m. - Home. Father snoring.
5:30 a.m. - Daughter eating toast. Father snoring loudly.
5:34 a.m. - Mother in shower. Father snoring louder.
5:45 a.m. - Mother calls friend to cancel 7:00 a.m. breakfast meeting. Father still snoring.
6:00 a.m. - Daughter in bed. Father's alarm going off. Father wakes up and asks for details. Goes about his morning.
6:30 a.m. - Mother, having called school to report daughter's absence, having texted radiologist friend to read the scan, and having set up a pick up of important documents needed to be taken to school, signs off phone and falls asleep.

Easiest ER trip yet. Maybe now it won't be so hard to drive past these places. It is what it is. Darcy still hurting, but hopefully, this will turn out to be the cyst issue and not the appendix. Fingers crossed.