Cute Firemen and Emergency Rooms

There is a story by Irma Bombeck were she describes how even though her family lives in a nice house and they all have nice clothes the times they have ended up at the emergency room they all looked like refugees seeking a new homeland. How they huddled together with ‘deer in headlights’ look in their eyes, torn t-shirts, dirty sneakers and old, torn and baggy sweatpants for pajamas.

Well….this weekend I could relate to that. Here’s my story.

My niece and I both woke up late on Saturday morning. I heard her come into my room and say ‘Good Morning’ and get Mia (my Pomeranian) from my room, before heading downstairs to let both dogs out to pee. Fifteen minutes later she calls out telling me to come downstairs because her stomach really hurts. (I am still sleepy and I want to take my 600 thread count sheets for another spin around the block before I get up... but I get up and go see what she’s talking about). The first thing I think about is that she’s overreacting (this girl loves Band-Aids!!!) and if she has made me get up just so I could see her try to win the Academy Award for best performing actress in a DRAMA….I was going to MURDER, DEATH KILL HER!! (I wonder where she gets the drama from??)

As I come down the last step I see that she is on the floor, rolled up into a little ball and she’s puking on the carpet. WTF!!! I go over to her and she’s covered in sweat. WTF!!! I try to get her up, but she’s crying and barfing and telling me that it hurts and she can’t get up….WTF!!! I have to call 911!!

So, I grab a towel and make sure she’s barfing on that before I call 911 and tell them what is going on…then I run upstairs to put on some pants, a bra, a t-shirt and try to control my “Mr. Carter” fro with a headband. (Extra points for those of you who understand the Mr. Carter reference) When I come downstairs the firemen are already getting out of their truck….Wow! That was fast!! I check on my niece she’s still scrunched up in pain..they come in…things are a blur…the Paramedics show up…more blur…they are asking her questions…they are asking me questions…all I can think about is “Do I have a bra on?’ (Now I know why all those people on cops shows look so stupid when being interviewed….I will not judge them again). They are asking me if she’s pregnant….she better not be or they will need to call the cops after I beat the shit out of her!

At some point I start crying and a very nice fireman tells me to take deep breaths and to relax that everything is going to be okay. (At this point I think it would have been appropriate for him to have taken me into his handsome arms and consoled me……although thinking back, I was lucky he didn’t stop the crying and shaking my slapping me….good call fireman!!).

I drive to the emergency room, give them her name and they call me back within a few minutes. It turns out we have chosen the busiest Saturday morning to have had an emergency because the ER is packed! I sit down next to her gurney and try to console her because she is still in pain and crying. As her pain calms a bit she turns to me with tears in her eyes and asks me “Did you go upstairs to go put on makeup before you called 911?” (That would have been a good idea if I would have thought of it….those firemen were CUTE!!).

4 ½ hours later…they let us go when they confirmed she is NOT pregnant. Well, that’s good to know, but WTF is the diagnosis? I am thinking appendix burst, cancerous tumors’ in the intestines, an Alien monster wanting to get out….and they come back with “She’s not pregnant!!!” They went to how many years of medical school to tell me in 4 ½ hours the same thing a stick you pee on could tell me in 15 minutes!!! Oh, but they did give her a Tylenol….that was nice.

Now, don’t get me wrong, the firemen, the paramedics, the ER receptionist, the nurses and even the doctor where very nice….but when your kid is lying in a gurney crying in pain….very nice and very good are simply not enough. The final diagnosis was a potential ovarian cyst, but he could not rule out appendicitis…to monitor her and take her back if the pain returned. Why did this happen so suddenly? He didn’t know.

When all was said and done, I looked down at myself and realized my zipper had been down the whole time, my ballerina shoes looked like I had danced Swan Lake on gravel, the t-shirt I pulled on had bleach stains, the jacket I grabbed was 3 sizes too big and my hair…not as ‘controlled’ as I had thought. My niece walked out with an old ratty t-shirt with cut off arms, bleached stained boxers she sleeps in and socks (no pants and no shoes…nice!!). She was cold, she was stinky, she had no pants, and no shoes….she said she had officially become a HOBO. As we walked out of the ER we both tried not to make eye contact with anyone in the packed waiting room.

On Sunday we went to church to thank God it was not something worse. To thank God that there are people who help others for a living. To Thank God she is not sexually active and thus not pregnant (because I would have to KILL her and I don’t think they allow inmates at the women’s prisons to have ‘Blogs’)

Where’s that fireman….I think I need a hug.