Today after Show Low Days, I put Benny down for a nap and the kids went running around like uncaged monkeys. Then Ben woke up and we somehow were all hanging out in my bedroom while Bob played a video game.
Dylan was messing around on my work out machine and Benny was crawling toward him and then BLAM! Dylan knocked Ben right in the forehead with the dang Gazelle pedal.
Immediately Ben wailed. I freaked out and grabbed him up. A lump began to form. A big lump.
I swooped Ben (screaming) into the kitchen and got an ice pack for his head. He wouldn't let me hold it on there. The lump grew and darkened.
I informed Bob that we would PROBABLY be adjourning to the emergency room. Then we did.
Despite having a child with a head injury I was not immediately whisked into the sacred ER.
After he PUKED on me, I told the
I really said...
"Actually he got hit in the head, so I'm quite worried that he just puked on me."
Still, no action from the nurses.
Finally they call us back and we don't even get a room, we get a glorified hallway aka the suture "room" which is partitioned into two "rooms" by "curtains". No, they were real curtains.
On one side is a gal on a bed getting her leg stitched up after a quite nasty fall. Tetanus shot required. Patient privacy is a JOKE!
On the other side is Ben's exam area. There is no bed. There is however, a La-Z-Boy chair.
Because there is no bed, I have to hold Ben the whole time. He is angry, hurt and squiggly. THIS part of the day really freaking sucks. Seriously, I've been home for two hours and my arms are STILL sore.
OK, anyway. 100 hours later the PA comes to examine him, by then he's puked again. So it's OFF to a CT scan for us! Yay!
Other than the puking and the total hatred of being at the hospital (which in my opinion is normal behavior) he's acting fine, so I'm not super concerned at this point.
We get to CT and it's just like on House. And I said that. And the CT tech said, "oh baby, tell your mom she's funny." And I wasn't sure if she meant it or if she was being sarcastic. I went with half of each.
Then despite having trained and able bodied people there, the CT tech tried to make ME hold Ben onto the CT scan table thingy...that was an epic fail. He squiggled too much and I love him too much to restrain him.
So that girl who halfheartedly said I was funny got Punk'd and SHE got to wrestle my baby and listen to him holler in her face. Who's funny now?
Then we went back to the
It happens so much faster on House.
Anyway, in the hour I waited, I kept hearing part of the M*A*S*H theme song (trivia: It's actually called "Suicide is Painless" which adds to the ultimate irony of this story) being played in the ER.
When a nurse type person finally came into our hallway I asked her about it and she said that the trauma system was set to play the M*A*S*H theme song as an alert tone to let the ER staff know that a patient would be arriving by ambulance or helicopter. Pretty fricking dark no?
Ben's CT scan was clear, no sign of brain trauma or bleed, which I expected given his demeanor, which was normal. As we awaited our discharge paperwork, I heard the M*A*S*H theme song three times. One sick baby, two assaults (one on the Rez).
Shortly thereafter, we were discharged. While I loaded Ben into the car, I saw the helicopter coming from the direction of the reservation. Mr. Assault Victim. As we turned out of the ER parking lot and onto the main road, there was an ambulance. Two minutes later, the other ambulance. Wow. Those ER people were about to get VERY busy.
Since Benny was fine and I was starving, I hit the KFC for a grilled chicken meal. So I guess I went to KGC.
When I got home, I was immediately descended on, like crows to a fresh squirrel carcass in the hot summer sun.
"You're not getting any of MY dinner! You guys ate pizza!" I said.
Dylan eyed my tray like the Terminator.
Mashed potatoes. No match.
Cole slaw. Negative.
"I'll just have aaaaaaaa biscuit!" he said with such glee that I just HAD to split the biscuit with him. What a sucker I am!
Then Elizabeth pulled the same move.
Cole slaw. Gross!!
But she didn't speak. She just puppy-dog-eyed my chicken wing until I gave up and let her have it.
Then she wanted my spork! My SPORK!
I gave it to her.
"Mmmmm. Smork!" she said.
My meal plundered and consumed (Elizabeth saved her sMork). I adjourned to the loo, accompanied by Mr. Biscuit Thief.
Since he's potty training, he went first. A trickle at best, but a start!
He examined his work, and was proud.
Then I had to use the loo. I peed.
He was astonished at the loud loud noise!
"My pee was very quiet!" he said.
Then he examined MY work...
"Whoa mom! You're full of eggs!" and he flushed it away. I laughed so hard, I almost peed my pants, but then I remembered, I had just peed and as Dylan says I was "all out of pee."
So yeah, remind me to never say "there's nothing much going on here" ever again.