ER with Kids

I have been to the ER a few times. My first was when I was in 7th grade and the front tire of my bike caught the back tire of my friend's bike. I caught air for a while, but what goes up must come down and I did. On a curb. With my right knee.

I sat in the ER for probably three hours before they got to me because they were dealing with a mock disaster and taking care of fake patients. At that point, the numbing effect of the adrenaline was starting to wear off and my knee hurt. I think they waited until it really hurt to bring me in and take care of me, at which point they injected the open knee with six shots of anesthesia. I still remember the moment as the first time I figured out my mind could scream.

I went to the ER as a spouse when Enoch walked into a hurricane strap (big piece of metal that sticks out of the foundation on a house) during a blinding snow storm. With his face. Again, it took a while for them to figure out how to get someone in to fix his face until it was REALLY swollen and much more difficult that a prompt stitching would have been. He wears the scar with pride.

I went to the ER again about six years ago when a pregnancy with a few complications was clearly being terminated by my body but the process was making it impossible for me to maintain consciousness. This was a shorter stint in the ER because of the whole blacking out anytime I wasn't completely horizontal thing. They really paid attention to me then.

I was in the ER again a few years ago with extraordinary abdominal pain. Enoch thought my appendix had ruptured and I had 24 hours before I would be dead. The Dr. thought I was having gall bladder problems, eventhough I told him over and over the pain was not that high. Ruptured ovarian cysts. They suck. Worse than having babies. Trust me.

I had the worst/best experience in the ER two days ago. Will was playing kickball at PE, tried to steal 2nd base but the other team had a player on the baseline - a fact Will discovered after his right temple hit the other kid's head. He was okay, ate lunch, no problems, then had headaches so strong he dropped to his knees and started crying. After some calls, I finally got in touch with Enoch, who went to pick him up. Will started screaming every 15-20 seconds, couldn't remember who he was, didn't know who Enoch was.

To the ER.

I arrived about 10-15 minutes later to a son who kept asking for help, wanted his hand taken off and wondered when we were going to be done. I don't think he knew who I was. He had a CT scan - clear of any bleeding but indicated a bruise. Concussion.

I looked at Enoch and told him I was not leaving my boy until he left. Period. About five hours after he arrived in the ER, after he had been given morphine twice and finally got a good solid sleep, he awoke as my Will again. And I remembered how to breathe.

Why the best? Because everyone was so ready to help get him better. They took him right in, gave him a stuffed squirrel and let me follow him everywhere. I was incredibly impressed and delighted there were people who could help me get my son back, because he was erratic and irrational.

And I'm hoping that I have had my last experience as a mom in the ER. Turned out okay, but that is a life experience I'm really okay with not repeating.