Saturday, August 23, 2008

In honor of the Olympics, a new world record is set!

Three discrete, round-trip trips to the Naval Hospital in about 12 hours.
1. Charlie, Peds.
2. Tim, Immunizations.
3. Charlie, ER.

Despite full doses of Motrin and Tylenol being administered -- and having 3 hours until another dose of allegedly fever-reducing medicine could be given -- AND despite a luke-warm washcloth being used against his skin AND despite pushing cool fluids, Charlie was 104.7 degrees.

Sent by our pediatrician to the ER for repeat evaluation. Naturally, when pressed into a fight-or-flight response he looked WAY better (although still 104.0 during triage). Unfortunately, his mother had to insert her personality twice to get appropriate actions--first, an ugly altercation with 2 male nurses about the "right" way to take a rectal temp. (Be it known that no, a 50-pound, 5-year-old is not safe up on a mini-infant-changing station. No, I can't lift him that high and I certainly cannot wrestle him. Likewise, it is unsat to conduct a bare-hiney temp in the ambulance entryway. Likewise, some dude holding Charlie in a "hug" with C's legs dangling in a triage area is downright stupid although I allowed them to "give it a college try, guys". After Charlie's legs repeatedly kicked around the "hugger's" groin area and nearly hit the "taker's" face, they allowed that we could try it my way. Success in a fraction of the time with no near-injuries. I refrained from whipping a Staples (TM) "That was Easy" button out of my handbag, thinking that would be a bit too smug). Second, the X-ray tech tried to tell me that he could take 2 chest photos without assistance because he, too, has a 5-y-o son--that, "oh no, ma'am, there's never 2 of us x-ray techs." Well, I wasn't born yesterday and I sure the heck stayed up all night long a few too many times in this here very ER so I walked my rotund self around the corner into the CT room and snagged a little helper who was only too happy to go position Charlie while the other guy pushed the picture button. Sing with me, "I'm a Giant Nightmare." to the tune of "I am a Teapot."

Grandma MK made her debut appearance at the ER and was impressed right up until she noted little (used) gauze swabs on the floor of Charlie's bed area. She also thought that you shouldn't have to wait to sign discharge instructions...repeatedly querying, "What would happen if we left without the paperwork?" As if her rule-bound daughter would know! (Okay, as if her blatantly rebellious against the bureaucracies daughter would know). I replied, "Gee, Mom, it probably goes into your permanent record and the next time you come to the ER the staff will leave you in the waiting room an extra hour and a half as punishment."

Gleaming moments of Parental Pride and/or Evidence of High Fever in an Otherwise Pretty Darn Not-Very-Verbal Boy:

Charlie, attempting to one-up Jamie (aka "I use Hydrocortisone Valerate"), when the doctor was taking his medical history said -- clear as a bell: "No Trileptal No".
* Trileptal is his anticonvulsant that he cooperatively takes twice a day.

Charlie, smelling a corpsman from 20 feet away (and spying a damn syringe hanging out of the guy's uber-cool fanny-pack): "Wet's hide! Wet's get out of here! No shot, no bwood draw! You go away! Cwose the curtain, cwose the curtain! No see Dr. Rash!" (Yes, there was audible laughter from staff and proximate patients for that one, probably not realizing that Dr. Rash is our beloved pediatrician and not even on site at the time).


Memo to Patty Grace: Dr. S the Handsome was spotted as present but, alas, he didn't enter our partition.

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