Seville is doing fine now, thanks. This is a long post, but I've wanted to write some about our adventures in the Emergency Room, for those who might be interested. Here are my (many) thoughts:
1. Emergency rooms are no fun. We went to Emmanuel, which is supposed to be about the best children's hospital in town. They have an emergency room just for children, which is nice. But no matter how many little fishy stickers you put on your walls, you're still cramming a small child into a little room with a hospital gurney, a chair, a big intimidating light thing hanging from the ceiling, and not much to do for HOURS while you wait, wait, wait for everybody to get around to looking at your case. The endless waiting between each and every doctor or test or procedure was probably the second worst thing about it.
The winner of the worst award goes to the sounds of the other children in there. Seriously. The number one thing emergency rooms could do to make themselves more humane would be to soundproof the walls. Seville tried to nap on that hard hospital gurney, and I spent the whole time (about an hour) holding her with one arm, and holding her ear with my other so she wouldn't hear the screaming of the other children as they got their blood drawn, or their stitches, or whatever it was. While she was awake I would distract her like mad when the baby next door cried. It was excruciating to listen to them. My heart went out to them so much, and it made our situation seem ever more dire and scary. And I wanted to do everything in my power to keep Seville from hearing the house-of-horrors noises and feel at ease and comfortable.
2. I should trust my instincts. Throughout the course of the whole thing I can cite decision after decision where my instincts told me something. With every single one, if I trusted my instincts I was right and/or glad. If I went with what someone else said or recommended, against my inner pull, I was universally regretful later.
For example, they needed a blood test early on. The doctor recommended that we go ahead and put in an i.v. line at the same time because it would save a step later if we needed it (which was likely). Something in me felt that I shouldn't do it, but the various people there convinced me otherwise. As it turned out, the nurse was unable to get the i.v. in the first time, so she had to try again (first strike against the decision. Now we've no longer saved her a step. And how hard was it to hold Seville while they were attempting this!). The second, successful attempt was in the bend of her arm, so they had to strap her whole arm to a board to keep her from bending it and messing it up. She HATED it! She spent more time crying and whining about her arm all day than anything else, including her hip, which is what we were there for (second strike, because it's just making her more miserable than ever). Many hours later I asked for some Motrin or something, but because she hadn't eaten (another story there!) they couldn't give it to her orally. They went to give her some pain killer in her i.v. only to discover - after MUCH horrible fiddling, prodding, tugging, etc - that the i.v. line had closed up and was useless (strike 3, it was a waste). They took it out and freed her arm from the board, at which point she was immediately in better spirits. They said they could give her the i.v. she needed for surgery after she was under anesthesia (WHAT?!! Then why did we torture her all day with this thing to begin with?!! a BIG strike 4!). Obviously, I regret not following my gut on that one.
Here's one I followed: We went to the E.R. in the morning, but had actually been told by my doctor to go the night before. It was after midnight and Jared and I were ready to head out the door. I walked into my bedroom to get my wallet and Seville immediately calmed down until I walked out again. Something in me felt I should try lying down with her in my bed before we left. I told Jared, "what if half of her crying and upset is because she is tired and exhausted and frustrated and just wants to sleep?" Jared looked at me a little incredulously. His hand was on the doorknob. We were dressed and packed and ready to go, but he trusted me and agreed to try it (so grateful for him!). We lay down in bed in our clothes. Seville calmed down and went to sleep for the rest of the night, between us in bed. I was so glad. It didn't save us a trip to the E.R., but it did give us all some rest before we went, which I think was critical. And Seville was in better spirits the next day, and much easier to work with.
3. No matter how bad you think you have it, someone else has it worse. The next morning Seville and I went to the play room in the infant/toddler wing. Seville's havin' a good ol' time with the hospital's toys when a couple other moms come in. We exchanged stories, and it turns out both these moms' tiny babies have been living in the hospital for months now. One of them has never been home. They both have serious heart conditions and have had several surgeries and stuff. I felt almost guilty telling them we'd only been there 24 hours, and that we'd be sent home today. They only talked about how blessed they were that their babies were still alive.
4. The doctors and hospital staff can and will tell you what to do, but healthcare decisions are ultimately your own. I repeated this mantra to myself when I felt I needed to advocate for Seville -- like when I fed her, against their advice, because I wasn't about to starve her in addition to everything else she was going through, "just in case" she needed surgery later. I decided if she needed surgery, and it was that critical that her stomach was empty, they could postpone the surgery a couple hours. Everybody there had a different number of hours she's not supposed to eat before anesthesia anyway (ranging from 2-6). I understand and respect that they make recommendations based on what they're trying to do for her healthcare. But I'm responsible for more than just her healthcare, and the big picture was that she needed to eat. And she needed to go outside and get out of the room for a while too - another thing I insisted on against their policies, that did her a world of good.
Wondering where we've been? See that picture on the right there? Yes, that is a picture of me re-formatting my hard drive. Yes, I reformatted it because my computer totally and completely and irrevocably crashed. Yes, it means I lose all my data.
