One More Reason For Christina To Dislike The Medical Establishment

Tuesday afternoon started off pretty much the same as any other afternoon.  Max came through the door with a hearty "hi mom".  Jakey followed a few seconds later screaming and crying about Max shutting the door on him.  Max looked dismayed, "What?  Were supposed to close the door." This argument might have held some water if, at any previous time, he had ever shut the door without being reminded.  As with every other afternoon, the fighting gave way to pleas for food.  So, I lovingly prepared a hearty and nutritious afternoon snack consisting of whole wheat Goldfish, organic applesauce and a low-fat, part-skim cheese stick.  Half way through his apple sauce, Jakey hobbled into the living room doubled over, "My tummy huwts.  I need a wittle gween pill".  The little green pill in this case was Gas-X.  Jakey is very familiar with the stuff.  Ever since he was a baby he's used it in copious amounts.  Now we regularly buy the big box from Costco.  300 pills for $8.99.  I gave him one.  No relief.  Another.  Still no relief.  He wanted more, but I told him he was cut off.  "Maybe he needs to poop", I thought. "Jakey did you poop this morning?" I asked.  "No" he whined.  "Did you poop yesterday?"  Again, "No". Uh-oh.  I asked once more, this time a little more panicky, "Well, did you poop Sunday?" "Nuh-uh." I was somewhat relieved when I recalled my mother mentioning that Jakey had pooped at the hotel on Saturday.  It seems my poor father was left cooling his heals while Jakey spent a good 20 minutes in the potty.  Apparently, the situation became so desperate that my father had to make other arrangements for himself.  This is why my mother found the episode noteworthy enough to mention it to me.  

Now that we had the cause, we aimed straight for the cure.  Jakey was barely on the toilet for a minute when he decided the effort was futile and that he wanted to get up.  I assured him that, in matters like these, patience is, indeed, a virtue. This argument was lost on a five year old, so I had to go straight for scare tactics.  "You know, Jake, if you can't poop on your own, we'll have to get some medicine that you'll have to put in your bottom."  He laughed and laughed.  That was not the reaction I was going for.  Sadly, all the laughter made his belly hurt again and he became convinced the butt medicine was for him.  A few minutes later, we were off.  We dropped Max at Chess Club, then headed straight to CVS for suppositories.  Jakey was still in too much pain to walk, so I carried him in and put him in a buggy and wheeled him to the suppository section.  They had plenty of remedies in stock, unfortunately, all of them had the warning "DO NOT USE WHEN ABDOMINAL PAIN IS PRESENT." Shoot, now I was truly at a loss.  Not knowing what else to do, I decided to called the Kaiser advise nurse to see if she had anything useful to say.  I told her the whole story, she asked me a few questions and then she put me on hold.  For a very long time.  In hind sight, I should have hung up, bought the suppositories and gone home, but I didn't.  I sat there, dutifully, waiting for some sage advice from those better educated than myself  in these matters.  What I got instead was: 

Nurse:  "Ma'am?  You need to take him to the closest emergency room as soon as possible." 

Me:   "Wait.  What?  Seriously?"  

Nurse:  "Yes, Ma'am."  

Me:  "Because, I'm pretty sure he just needs to poop."  

Nurse:  "Ma'am,  we're concerned he may have appendicitis."

Me:  "Um.  Wouldn't he have a fever or being throwing up..."

Nurse:  "Not always Ma'am.  It could be in the early stages."

Then she throws this at me, "Ma'am, it may be inconvenient, but it's for the safety of your child."  So, now I'm a bad mother and if I don't heed their advice my son will die and I'll have to live with the terrible guilt forever and then they'll arrest me for criminal neglect and Fox News will run story after story about what a bad person I am

 and people will write in saying things like, "What kind of mother, blah, blah, blah"...  So, we went to the damn hospital.

When we got there, Jakey wouldn't let me carry him, so he hobbled in mumbling the whole way, "This is so embawassing."  They sent us back to the pediatric waiting room, which was super kid-friendly, but they seemed to have forgotten there would grown ups accompanying the sick children, so the room was a little too small for it purposes, as was all the furniture in it. There we sat in our tiny chairs, in a tiny room, watching a very large TV that had a hand written sign on it that said "Please leave on child appropriate programming."  So, you can understand why I was a bit mystified as to why it was tuned to "The Good, The Bad And The Ugly", but I also wasn't in the mood to go toe to toe with the one dad who seemed to be paying attention to it, so there it stayed.  

After awhile, they finally called us, brought us to "Room"  3 and gave me a gown to put on Jake. The boy who thought simply walking into the ER was embarrassing was certainly none to please about this particular indignity and so the tears started to flow.  Not in the mood for a fight, and keenly aware that social workers were mere steps away, I turned to bribery.  Luckily, there was a little TV in our little curtained off area, so I told him he could watch Disney Channel once he put on the gown.  He quickly caved.  It's handy to know that my children will trade their dignity for the promise of a little weekday television viewing. Eventually, a doctor made her way to us and in very short order decided that Jakey was not suffering from appendicitis and was probably just constipated.  BUT, "why don't we run a few tests, just to make sure."  So I was left with the unenviable task of getting my bladder shy son to pee in a cup in front of me.   We made our way to the bathroom veeerrrry sllloooowwwllly, since I had to walk very closely behind Jakob, all the while holding the back of his gown completely together.  No gaps allowed.  I expected an epic battle once we got there, but lucky for me, the promise of looking away as I held the cup was enough for Jake.  Maybe he sensed Mommy was a little on edge and now was not the best time argue the nuances of who stands where and holds what when peeing into a cup.  When we arrived back at "Room" 3, I stood there with the curtain open looking around to see who might want to take my son's urine off my hands.  There were no takers.  Only a direction to set it on the metal tray in our "Room". Then, about 20 minutes into Hannah Montana, the x-ray tech popped by.  Again, we made our way veeeerrrrry sllllooooowwwly to the x-ray room.  Jakey was surprisingly cooperative there, as well.  

All seemed well, until we returned to "Room" 3 only to find that Jakey's cup 'o urine was still sitting on the tray.  I quickly found our nurse and let her know that someone needed to take it to the lab tout de suite or I might lose my mind.  She then informed me, in a punishing tone, that not only would the test results be another 45 minutes to an hour, but we would also soon be removed from "Room" 3 because they needed it for another patient. Sure enough, within a minute there someone was to boot us out of our "Room" and into the hall.  This is when I lost it and went on a mini-tirade about them letting my urine sitting there forever, but when they needed something from me, they sure worked lightening fast.  The woman who was moving us handled me very deftly, I could tell she'd been to at least one seminar on "How to Handle The Irate Mother".  She led us to an out of the way gurney, whipped out a Wii for Jakey to play and promised to check on the lab results immediately.  About five minutes later, a young woman came by and asked Jakey his name, then she looked at me and said in a fey voice "We're so crowded we put people all around and we forgot where we put them."  She tittered then walked away.  Clearly, she had not been to the same seminars as the first hallway lady. Meanwhile,  Jakey was having the time of his life.  He remarked "I got to watch TV AND play the Wii.  And, it's past bedtime!  I can't wait to tell Daddy."  "Yeah, it's a real shame he can't be here to experience it."  I thought.  

So now, having 45 minutes to an hour to kill, no desire to watch Jake play video games and a woefully uncharged iPhone, my only entertainment option was reading bulletin boards.  The one immediately to our right was a breakdown of how to achieve Inova Fairfax's goal of making peoples ER stays more enjoyable, or least less unpleasant.  I noticed under Length Of Stay, their goal was 120 minute (Oops, already missed it) but last month they were averaging 167 minutes.  "We'll see" I thought.  It was closing in fast.  I moved on to bulletin board two.  This one had flyers for continuing education seminars. My favorite one ended "Esphogeal Ruptures and much, much, more.  Prizes too!"  Finally, the doctor came back by letting us know that lots of technology confirmed what we all knew in the beginning.  Jakey was constipated and we were free to leave.  It was only after paying my $50 co-pay and leaving the hospital that I realized that I never got an answer to my first question about how to get Jakey to poop.  I was bitter, but not bitter enough to go back in.  I figured a very berry breakfast would probably do the trick.  Out of curiosity, I checked my watch as we walked to our car and, by god, it was exactly 167 minutes after our arrival. Uncanny.