A Night In The Hospital; Or, How I Became Surrogate Mother To A Penny-Swallower

Behold...the source of all our pain...

 Whew! It's been a very busy May, full of soccer, school, piano recitals, birthdays, etc. However, the "winner" of the Craziest Day of the Month Award happened pretty early on. It was an event I'm sure everyone hopes they'll never experience--a night in the hospital with someone else's child.

But I'm getting ahead of myself...

Several weeks ago, I agreed to help a friend of mine (she's in the Primary presidency with me in church). She was going to travel to Georgia for a weekend to see her husband for the first time in four months (he's been studying to qualify for a job in US Customs and Border Protection). She also has four children under 12. She desperately needed a mini-vacation from them, and so began placing her three boys and one girl into the homes of various families for the weekend she'd be away. Her little girl, Sophie, is five-going-on-six, and I thought she'd enjoy an "all-girl" weekend with my three daughters. Thus, we made plans to have Sophie as our family's fourth "child" for the first weekend in May.

For the most part, this turned out to be a great idea. Sophie was in seventh heaven with my girls; they spent the day painting each others' fingernails and singing, and nights curled up together in the bunk bed. They even spent the night on the trampoline once, under the stars (well, most of the night; they eventually got cold and retreated inside). I had been a little nervous about having four kids all weekend, but they were having such a good time (and behaving pretty well, to boot), that I relaxed, and thus failed to anticipate The Incident to come.

The girls had been playing all kinds of "let's pretend" games all weekend; one of their favorite games involved them giving each other "money" (in "imaginary" coin form), which they then "swallowed." I never figured out quite why it was money they were swallowing; who am I to unravel the mystery of kids' games? Then, on Monday night (May 7), the game took an unfortunate turn for the gritty & realistic. This was the last night we were to have Sophie over; she would be spending Tuesday after school at her neighbor's house, before Mom came home to pick her up. I am telling you this so you can fully appreciate the irony.

First, Sophie came to me at about 6:45 pm (just after dinner) and said, "I really swallowed a penny this time! I did it for real!" I wasn't sure whether to believe her or not at first; however, she seemed unusually earnest and I soon decided she must be serious. I wasn't too worried, though; little kids swallow (and pass) pennies all the time, right?

However, within five or ten minutes, Sophie was hunched over, crying, and complaining of acute pain in her chest. At this point, my emotions ranged from exasperated ("Kid, why'd you have to SWALLOW a PENNY??") to concerned. Without further ado, I left Nathan in charge of our kids, put Sophie in our van, and immediately drove up to Tucson's University Medical Center Children's ER.

What followed is 22 hours of Not-At-All-Fun.

I spent most of the first hour in the ER waiting room frantically trying to call my friend, who was (so far) happily oblivious to the situation in North Carolina. As (un)luck would have it, we had not thought to ask for a medical release form when she left town. Thankfully, her phone had only been turned off temporarily, and she was soon able to give the admissions office all the pertinent health insurance information they needed to admit Sophie. Mom was also able to talk to Sophie a little bit on the phone; the poor girl was tired, sore, and very nervous, and it was a tearful conversation for all involved (including me the observer!).

Thing I Learned From This Experience #1: I will always request a medical release form every time I agree to watch someone else's child for more than one day.

We were admitted to the ER soon afterward; it was modern & had a flat-screen TV in the room with lots of inane cartoons blaring loudly to keep Sophie preoccupied. Unfortunately, while Sophie at least had a hospital bed to lay on, I had a tiny, uncomfortable chair that was to be my only source of comfort for the next four hours or so. Also, my smartphone didn't work in the ER...no Facebook, e-mail, or Internet to keep me busy. Just those annoying, inane cartoons I already mentioned.

We waited for the X-rays...and waited...and waited. During this time, poor Sophie threw up all over herself, ruining her shirt and covering the sheets in a blood-tinged mess. The ER staff came and cleaned it up...and still we waited. They finally got us in for the X-rays at about 10:30 pm--just as Sophie was finally starting to doze off. "Sorry kid...gotta wake you up!" Then we went back to our ER room and waited some more. Finally, the doctor returned with the X-rays, and even though I'm no expert, I could immediately tell what the problem was.

Sophie hadn't swallowed just any old penny. It was one of the souvenir "pressed pennies" offered by places such as the Reid Park Zoo in Tucson. Basically, you put a penny in a machine, turn a crank, and the penny gets flattened out and stretched to a much longer, wider shape, usually with an imprint of some kind. The long penny was tilted lengthwise in Sophie's throat (fortuitously, as it turned out; at least there was some passage through the esophagus), but it was just wide enough that it was stuck fast. Groan.

The doctor said they'd need to do an endoscopy (which entails a small camera inserted into the body via a thin tube) to properly locate the penny; after that, they would be able to easily remove it. It would still involve general anesthesia, so I needed to call Mom so she could give her consent for that...and give her consent for the operation in the first place. More long minutes passed while all the details were worked out. After a while, though, the doctor informed us that there were no ORs available that night, so we'd have to be admitted to the hospital, and the surgery would be performed in the morning (since it wasn't life-threatening). Ugh.

Even after all that, we still had to wait just over an hour until they finally got us out of the darn ER. By this point, I was considering curling up in a corner on the floor of the ER room, using my purse as a pillow, and finally just getting some darn sleep. But no...at 11:45 pm, they came by, woke Sophie up again, and wheeled her up to our room for the night. At least there I could pull out a bed from the couch and curl up for a minute...

My only source of comfort during the ordeal

...nope. At 12:45 am, here came more nurses, waking both of us up a third time, cheerily saying, "Time to put in your IV, Sophie!" Oy. This was, officially, the nadir of the whole trip. Not only had poor Sophie been awakened yet again, but it was by a couple of techs who couldn't find a vein. They turned on a huge lava-lamp thingy in the room, saying, "Watch the pretty lights, Sophie...we'll take care of you!" Right...like a lava lamp is going to distract a kid from two big people sticking needles in her arm multiple times in a brightly lit uncomfortable room in the middle of the night. Sophie was tired, dirty, stinky, and lightly coated in vomit; she was crying loudly and begging for her mom--begging for the whole thing to be over--the whole time. I could do nothing but stroke her hair, hold her hand, and fight back my own tears. Finally, the IV was in, and thankfully people finally left us alone after that. By the time we got to sleep, it was past 2 am.

Thing I Learned #2: If you aren't near death, you are in for some looooong waits during your stay in a hospital. Unless, of course, you're about to fall asleep...then it's guaranteed the nurses will wake you up over and over to do annoying things to you.

 We were awakened at around 6:30 am. At least we got four hours of uninterrupted sleep...hooray! (I guess) The nurses informed us they'd prep Sophie for surgery as soon as a room became available. In the meantime, we hung around in our room, resting (in Sophie's case, dozing lightly), watching more lame cartoons on the TV and (in my case) playing with the phone and checking my e-mail. Hooray...the smartphone was my one link to the outside world. I also snuck out and bought some breakfast at the hospital cafe. Not terrible, but kinda pricy. At that point, I was so exhausted and drained I didn't care...I needed nourishment!

I returned to the room just after 9 am, and lo and behold! It was time to go in for surgery. Here, at least, things seemed to move swiftly. The OR staff were all friendly, helpful, and optimistic. They also seemed very prepared to cater to little kids...Sophie got a stuffed animal as a gift, and she clung to it passionately. The nurse also let her play Angry Birds on her iPad while I went through yet another round of phone tag with Sophie's mom to get various consent forms filled out. In fact, she got so busy playing Angry Birds that she was wheeled into surgery without even acknowledging my "good luck"! That made me smile; it amuses me how, even if they're uncomfortable, kids can still get so absorbed in games that they tune out everything else...even impending surgery!

Can you imagine gulping this down??

I went to the waiting room and started to get comfortable...but I almost needn't have bothered! In less than 15 minutes, the surgeon strolled over to me, jiggling the offending super-penny around in a small pill jar with a smug look on her face. The penny was removed, and Sophie's throat was completely fine. Hooray! Time to go home, at last!!

Um...

Thing I Learned #3: Hospital food is the opposite of fast food.

Oops...it wasn't time to go home yet, after all. The head nurse on our floor seemed to think Sophie needed a meal (or two) first. I could definitely see her reasoning; she wanted to make sure there was nothing wrong with her throat, and that eating wouldn't be a problem. But waiting for a hospital to bring you food is its own kind of maddening. When a hospital staff member says, "I'll have a meal sent up to you," a small part of me deep inside starts to cry...because I know I probably won't see that meal for at least an hour.

And this nurse wanted to give Sophie two separate meals. Ugh.

The first meal was what they called a "clean" meal; it consisted of a lot of smooth, easy eating like chicken broth, Jell-O, etc. Sophie ate about half of what they (eventually) brought her, but she was also distracted by all the awesome gifts the hospital staff kept throwing at her. Besides the stuffed animal I mentioned earlier, Sophie also got a huge packet with crayons, coloring sheets, activity books, and even a jewelry-making kit(!) Besides all this, Sophie was clearly feeling much better by now; she was chatting with all the nurses, singing along to songs on the TV, and acting like her usual happy self. This made me happy, too--though I did wonder a bit at so many rewards going to a girl who swallowed a penny, and thus sorta brought her torment upon herself. But that's just my cynical side grumbling :).

How could you stay mad at this face?

In between coloring and making pretty bracelets with an intern, the nurse finally took a look at Sophie and declared she needed to eat a real meal next--and thus, an hour and a half later, a measly portion of mac 'n cheese, sliced fruit, and soda was delivered (I'd finally given in to the hunger and bought myself soup and a sandwich from the hospital cafeteria earlier). Sophie, probably still a little "off" from the anesthetic, said she wasn't really hungry. However, I (who had not received my own jewelry-making kit, and was getting pretty bored playing on my smartphone) urgently told her, "Sophie...if you don't eat this, we're never getting out of here!" (Yes, I made sure the nurses were out of earshot. Why do you ask?)

Sophie gamely finished about half of what was given her (and I finished off her fruit...again, when no one was looking. I can live with this sin). Finally (finally, finally!!) the head nurse declared Sophie fit to be discharged. Hooray! There were just two little problems...

1. Sophie had no clean clothes left. She'd thrown up on her shirt the night before, and during the surgery, she wet her pants and underpants. She'd spent the whole day sitting around in a kid-sized, tie-in-the back hospital gown, and I was starting to worry that's what I'd have to drive her home in. Sophie herself seemed amused by this prospect.
2. Sophie's mom was, at that very moment, on the first leg of her flight from the east coast back to Arizona...and I needed her verbal consent to get us both discharged.

Number 1 turned out well enough; luckily, the hospital has several pairs of donated clothing laying around for situations like ours. That's how Sophie eventually got to wear a size-8 pair of boys' underwear home. Number 2, however, proved to be (nearly) the undoing of my sanity. Of course Mom's flight was delayed on the tarmac. So of course I couldn't get hold of her for two to three hours, with Sophie happily coloring in the background, and the nurses constantly peeking in our room to see if we were finally ready to get out of their way. I called...and called...and called...hoping that this time, I'd finally get through to Mom and I could leave this forsaken place. I fidgeted...I constantly checked the clock...I repeatedly called home, and repeated over and over, "No I can't leave yet. No, I can't come home yet." At least Sophie's IV was taken out (at last!), and we were able to wander the halls a bit. Needless to say, this was not very exciting either (even though there was a pretty cool kids' playroom on our floor that managed to keep Sophie, at least, entertained for a short time).

Finally, we made contact at about 5 pm, during Mom's layover in Dallas. A few hurried signatures later, we were out the front door as fast as we could go. In other words, we didn't get to leave the hospital until seven hours after that darn penny was pulled from Sophie's throat. And people say socialized medicine means long waits???

That night, I dropped Sophie off at her neighbor's house, where she was to spend the night. After getting my own kids to bed (with help from Nathan, who'd had to take the day off from work), I went upstairs, washed off the hospital-stink, and went to bed very early. It was kind of an abrupt ending to our long weekend with Sophie. Still, I have always been happy to see Sophie after all this; she apparently feels the same, since she always runs up and gives me a hug (she even calls me, "Adrianne," not "Lorelai's Mom," which has become my default identity for most kids). It's nice to know she doesn't hold her bad experience against me...it's interesting, the bonds you develop with people in adverse circumstances!

The silver lining to this hospital-shaped cloud is that now, my kids have an excellent cautionary example for every time they feel tempted to put something small into their mouths. "Oh yeah? You think that Disney locket looks tasty? Well, remember what happened to Sophie...you could end up in the hospital for a whole day!"

And what do you know...I also spent another morning in a hospital at the tail-end of May. But I'll write more about that later. Suffice it to say, between Sophie's ordeal and my own, I hope to not see the inside of a hospital again for a very long time!