What’s worse than seeing your young child hooked up to medical machines and an I.V.? Hmm. Nothing. Well, other than the unthinkable, of course.
The Reader’s Digest version is that Haley developed a fever on Saturday, August 8th (bad), followed by vomiting (which is actually good.) But then it escalated into vomiting and diarrhea for five days (bad again), which resulted in a few trips to the clinic. A 104.2 (!) fever on day six landed us in the hospital for two nights.
I will spare you the gory details and just say there was poking, bright lights, scary equipment, needles, and a lot of screaming and crying. HORRIFIC for a 3YO and her mother.
If I believed in Hell, I would say I was there.
Having said that, it’s also fair to give credit where credit is due. All the nurses and doctors (with the exception of one incompetent/no bed side manner/in the wrong profession nurse-technician), were outstanding; warm, comforting, and most importantly, patient with all my questions, and understanding of my frustration and four letter words.
After blood being drawn a few times, more tests, two nights of scratchy sheets, watching Mulan five times, and a diagnosis (or more like a guess, if you ask me) of viral Gastrointestinitis, we were released. They say the virus is common and will just work its way out of the body eventually.
Eventually? WTF? I mean, who ever heard of nine days (and counting) with a fever…from a stomach bug? Not that I want it to be more serious, of course. Okay, Amy. Breath, breath.
Now we’re waiting for the last of the lab results to come in, ruling out anything more severe. At least Haley’s hydrated and in better spirits.
So, while I’m waiting…I can tell you about the other part of our hospital visit: the food and everything I took from her room.
The menu was filled with three pages of choices. Build your own sandwich, build your own salad, eggs any way you’d like, anything off the grill, etc. The selection even included items like “Seared Cod with Mango Salsa” and “Caribbean Jerk Chicken Fajitas.” I was impressed. I took a stab at their Grilled Veggie Burger and it was so good, I had it again the next day. I also ordered the Tater Tots, which I haven’t had in about 15 years. They were just as gross and yummy as I recalled.
I let go of my nutritious eating convictions as far as Haley was concerned. You want French fries for lunch? Sure. How about dessert for breakfast? No problem. But in typical Haley form, she hated the Mac-N-Cheese, scraped the chocolate off the chocolate cake, and turned her nose up at the Jello and tapioca pudding. Instead, she ate grapes, strawberries, and a whole wheat English muffin for two days/nights. She’s not normal. Oh, Haley, Haley, Haley. (Then, of course, there’s 16-month old Trevor, who came to visit with Daddy each day. He immediately went for all the uneaten portions of food sitting on the trays, slightly out of his reach, but not quite. It’s like he has a food antennae. Oh, Trevor, Trevor, Trevor.) Anyway, I can’t say I came home malnourished.
This awesome sign greeted us upon returning home. (You must cut Paul some slack for the misspelling. He was sleep deprived. Or maybe he was medicated, in an effort to get through this ordeal.)
There were also amusing presents for us to open (because Paul can’t resist an excuse to spend money at Patina, our all-time favorite politically incorrect gift shop.)
After the gift opening, I unpacked our bags. And what do you know? Some items just happened to make there way inside. (Okay, don’t judge. It’s not like we didn’t pay for these things, anyway. As if they’re not going to be reflected in that outrageous bill being generated.)
A box of Cherrios. Because I like things packaged in travel-size containers. $10.
There’s surgical tape. Because that’s more fun than Scotch tape. $35.
A set of four fruit cups. Because I can never have enough prep bowls. $100.
This very cool ball that will hold Trevor’s attention for a valuable 15 minutes, when needed. $700.
And all the supplies a doctor-in-training would need to practice with. $250.
…which put a smile on Haley’s face. Priceless.
P.S. For the record, I have instructed my friends to put me in check the next time I complain about Haley having a silly cold.