- Drug ingestion. (Makes sense)
- The importance of child safety seats. (Must be required or something to give that one out)
- The importance of quitting smoking (What??)
- How to help someone who is suicidal.
Sunday, August 12, 2012
Both my girls have made trips to the ER so I figured it’s time to write about it.
ER trip number one
Patient: Love Monster (A shocker, I know.)
“DON’T TOUCH IT!” Love Monster has been saying ever since she got home from school. She’s actually been saying it since she stood up full force underneath a metal slide. She didn’t let the teachers look at her head or come near her. So by the time I’ve picked her up her hair is all matted and bloody. Because of all the hair I can’t tell if it’s still bleeding or how deep the cut is. The teachers hand her off to me with a smile. “I’m sure she’s fine.” Hmmm probably, but what if she’s not! We go home.
“Love Monster, we need to wash your hair,” I say. Gotta clean that thing there’s probably a good combo of paint, sand and glitter in there.
“NO WAY!” Love Monster says.
I text a picture of her head to her dad.
“What are you doing mama?”
“Papa wants to see your hair do.”
She nods like “Of course he does” and poses.
He confirms my paranoia. Better safe then sorry.
“Did Papa like the hair picture?” Love Monster asks.
“Yes, but the doctors need to check it out too,” I say.
Off we go with Smirker in tow.
We get to the ER and check Love Monster in. I examine the cut again. I cannot tell if it’s still bleeding! Ugh.
“So how did this happen?” The nice registration lady says.
“At school. She stood up under a slide,” I say.
She smiles and types something on the computer then leaves the desk.
She comes back.
“Can you tell me how that happened again?”
“She stood up under a metal slide at school.”
“Okay,” she smiles again squinting her eyes. I’m immediately annoyed. Her eyes look to my left on the ground. I follow her gaze. Smirker is laying on the floor.
“Smirker, get up,” I say through grit teeth. Love Monster has been sitting like an angel next to me. Maybe it’s the blood loss.
“Through those doors,” the registration lady says.
We go through and a nurse walks with us.
“So how did this happen again?” She asks.
Sigh. Metal slide. School.
She takes us to a small room to get Love Monster’s vitals. This is when Love Monster’s no-where-near-normal cool facade dissipates completely. You would think the blood pressure cuff was sucking the very life out of her and the pulse ox thingy was shooting laser into her tiny fingers. They even tried to demonstrate on Smirker who dug it (Ohh look at the red light...), but that didn’t work. Finally they gave up and the nurse just checked her head (Beastie Boys!).
“Just a scratch. She’s good,” the nurse said. They clean her up and LM doesn’t even flinch.
She handed me pamphlets on abrasions and asked Love Monster if she wanted a puppet for being a very brave girl.
Oh hell no.
“If you don’t want it I totally understand. They are creepy as hell,” the nurse says. “But an old lady keeps making them and bringing them to us for the children.”
I look over to Love Monster and she loves it. Meanwhile Smirker is doing “hospital angels” on the floor. Seriously. Stop it! Sigh...
ER trip number two
FUCK! God Dammit! FUCK!
Smirker has just walked out of my bedroom after her nap holding a handful of Ibuprofen. She’s smiling. I smell her mouth. Don’t smell anything. I count the pills in her hands and on the floor, about 20. I look at the bottle that contained them. 200 count. Shit. How many were in there? Smirker giggles. She seems fine... But what if she isn’t and falls asleep and... Okay get in the car girls.
Similar registration experience. But instead of “How did this happen?” She asks “Where were the pills?” a billion times.
We have to sit and wait for a while (This is not a priority?!?). The girls are occupying themselves by smelling each other. They find this hilarious. Smirker doesn’t realize we are here for her by the way. When that realization hits this will no longer be fun times smelling each other’s elbow pits. I had to take her to the doctor to get her TB test recently and after it was done and she stopped screaming and crying, stared me straight in the eyes and screamed, “I QUIT!” Clearest I’ve ever heard her speak.
When we are finally taken to our room Smirker has gotten wise. She is in full on freak out mode. They take her vitals and she whimpers in my lap. Love Monster tries to calm her by singing Katy Perry’s Firework song although she doesn’t know the words. So her version goes something like this “Hippin Hoppin eye-er-irk!”
The doctor quizzes me about how many pills she could have taken. I’m envisioning them having to pump her stomach. Oh man. Poor little Smirker. But then the doc tells me that it’s pretty tough to OD on Ibuprofen. She’d have to take a few bottles. But of course they want to watch for a while to make sure.
So we hang. They eat apple sauce and pudding and watch some Family Guy (I wear long sleeve shirts under short sleeve shirts under long sleeve shirts.-Love that episode.) Love Monster takes the crayons the nurse gave her and puts them on the doctor stool and spins them.
“It is magic in here!” She exclaims.
Smirker was a trooper. Thank GOD they didn’t not have to ipecac her.
Finally after four hours we are discharged and once again they hand me a stack of pamphlets:
Yes you read that last pamphlet title correctly. Ummm Smirker’s got it pretty good. Yeah she freaked yesterday when I made her wear pants, but I’m fairly sure it didn’t make her want to off herself.
“Do you have more of those puppets??” Love Monster asks everyone at the nurse’s station as we exit the premises. They all look at her like she is insane.
"We're all out," a nurse says.
I send them a silent thank you. I don't need anymore of those around the house. I've seen Poltergeist. I lock that creep doll up every night.
Good bye ER. Til next time, because I'm sure there will be one.