Monday, October 29, 2007

OK, whatever. I'm going for it.

So, the Bitter One himself decided to come down from Mount Tonawanda (Look it up if you want to get the joke - if you don't get it, ask, I'll share. I'm good at sharing.) and ask me how I'm doing. So, here you go. Or at least a snippet.

A couple Fridays ago I was on the phone with Jeannine when I heard in the background, kind of soft and scruffy "momiswallowedapenny." I understood when Jeannine told me she had to go. I'm understanding like that. Damn, I'm good. Apparently Izzy swallowed a "penny." Mind you, everything coin is a "penny." Could have been a nickel. Hell, could have been a Kennedy half-dollar if we had them lying around. So, this happened on a Friday afternoon. Saturday comes and goes - no poop. Sunday - no poop. Monday - no poop. Monday evening, out of the clear, blue sky puke everywhere. We just came in from playing at a playground, she went to pee, came out of the bathroom and then half-digested Mac-n-Cheese all over the entryway. And then a second and a third round in rapid succession. Hmmm, no poop but lots of puke. Pediatrician is closed. Take her to some "All Night Peds" franchise. Kind of like a McDonalds of healthcare. They didn't have an x-ray machine but thought that the puke and the penny were unrelated.

Tuesday, after not eating all day and being curled up in a ball we get blasts out the other end of the digestive tract. Twice. The Pediatrician tells Jeannine that if Izzy throws up again to take her to the ER. I'm thinking, she puked up everything yesterday, hasn't eaten today, there is nothing to puke. A bad gauge of health. So, I leave work early and take Izzy to the ER. I explain that I know the ER drill - sit and wait, see if anything changes. We have waited days so I really don't feel like waiting. Fearing a "penny" is causing an obstruction I want an x-ray to determine what, if anything, she managed to swallow and block her GI tract.

We get x-rays. I'm told by the doc that she is glad i was insistent because something looking like a coin is at the top of her stomach and may be obstructing her digestive system. After consulting with the GI surgeon at Children's Hospital she is being directly admitted and will likely undergo surgery the next (Wednesday) morning to remove the obstruction. Go home, change Izzy into PJs, get a book for me and off to Children's Hospital. While waiting in line to check Izzy in I get a call on my cell phone. My grandmother died. "Yeah, I really can't deal with that right now. I'll be in touch." (It wasn't unexpected. She was 95, in declining health and the last time we spoke when asked "How are you?" she responded "I keep waking up and am rather disappointed." Still, it sucks.)

We get Izzy up in her room. The first one is occupied by an infant with tubes and stuff hooked up to her and will not stop crying. We got moved. A steady stream of residents, interns, etc. asking questions. (Here is the part where I tell you it is scary to have reached an age when I can legitimately ask "When did the doctors get younger than me?") Of note is the fact that Izzy had a scrape/scab from playing roughly with Sebastian at SmalWurld at Ikea. (This is where Jeannine and I go for a date. Drop the kids off to play for 45 minutes while we shop child-free. A sad state of affairs.) When you drip the kids off they give you one of those GIANT pagers that light up and buzz. If they need you they page you. We got paged and ran back to SmalWurld. Apparently Sebastian had been a bit rough with Izzy and we were asked to remove the kids. Yeah, my son gets bounced from SmalWurld. Great. Anyway, Izzy got a scrape, it scabbed over. Each intern/resident who looked her over saw it and asked "Ohh, goodness, where did THIS come from (you child abusing sicko)?" Only that last part was not spoken but intoned. After the medical parade we get left alone. It is about 1030. I ask Izzy if she is tired. She is. I ask her if she wants to cuddle with me. She does. She falls asleep. It is 1100. She gets woken up for IV fluids. Nice timing, people. Kids don't like to get IVs. They make a lot of noise in protest. We go back to the room at 1130 and finally fall asleep. Well, sort of. Kids crying. People walking around. Not much sleep to be had. Up at 700. No idea when the endoscopic procedure will take place. But I do have that detail, general anesthesia, a machine breathing for my little girl while they stick a scope down her throat to snatch a coin from her belly. I'm unsettled.

I meet the doc. He tells me about the procedure. About the anesthesia. "How long is the recovery period?" "Not long at all," he tells me. "It is a minimal amount of drugs. She will be up and running before you know it." "What could go wrong?" I ask. "She could die. But it is HIGHLY unlikely." Oh, great. Thanks for that.

We get an x-ray before the procedure to see if the "penny" has moved. The penny was swallowed on Friday. It is now Wednesday. After so many days, it finally moved. It is in her lower GI tract. The surgery is called off. The "penny" will, well, get pooped out. And guess who gets to look for it. I pocked a handful of exam gloves before leaving the room anticipating my mission. I think it passed and we missed it. She is doing just fine now, thank you. We did learn an important lesson, there are differences between Piggy Banks and Izzy Banks. Piggy Banks are much better for "pennies."

I'll post my corn chowder recipe next time. I have to go to bed.

posted by MGSoden, 9:15 PM | link | 1 comments

So Umm, yeah. Is this thing on?

OK, I'll give this a whirl. I finally figured out how to sign back in after Blogger did their whole "let's make this easier" redux thing and completely fucked the whole thing up making it impossible to sign in. I'm not going to spend too much time typing here since it may be an act of blogging masturbation. If one of you gobs decides to read this and let me know I'll share my deep, dark secrets. Or at least the recipe for my fantastic corn chowder.

posted by MGSoden, 9:03 PM | link | 1 comments