A’s First Trip To The ER and When My Toilet Became the King of the Castle.

Fret not Nutty Momma, we’re all alive. Thanks to our darling little A, the Grinch came early this year and the stomach flu cloud hovered over our little abode the week before Christmas. What timing. Doesn’t that jerk know that, ever the procrastinator, I do my best shopping that week? Needless to say, several people received gift cards (read: all of our Secret Santa recipients and my bosses).

It started on the 18th. When I arrived at my parents’ house, my mother informed me that A was lethargic all day and, looking at her, I knew that something was amiss. She began vomitting at 5 p.m. and continued every ten minutes or so until 8 p.m. I completely freaked. The girls hadn’t done much more than spit up formula in the past fifteen months, but this was Exorcist-like force. And she wouldn’t stop! We took the advice of our pediatrician and fed her teaspoons of Pedialyte but she wouldn’t keep that down either. When the doctor called back for an update and I didn’t have good news for her, she advised us to take A to the emergency room for dehydration. We dropped HRP off at J’s mom’s house and drove to the nearest ER.

Apparently, “emergency” is an ambiguous term. When we arrived at what I thought was the registration desk at St. Jerk’s, I was informed that she was not, in fact, registration, and that it would likely take three to four hours before A would be registered and after that, eventually, she would be seen. The lady didn’t even take the insurance card I attempted to shove into her hand to prove to her that she would be paid. In the meantime, poor A threw up on me twice. The woman behind the desk didn’t blink.

While I was cleaning A and myself up in the most dreadful waiting area imaginable (until our next stop), J was calling the next nearest ER. The person on the other end advised him to bring A and she would be seen within an hour. We buckled her back in and drove to Mt. Nasty where we immediately were seen by registration. This was a bit of a relief for me and I was sure that we would be in with a doctor shortly.

An hour later, we were still huddled together in the furthest corner of the waiting room, as far away from the woman with the shakes as possible, when we were finally called to an examination room.

What took place afterwards was hours of frustration and tears. All to rehydrate my daughter. If it was so important to get her admitted and hydrated, why did it take four hours to start the process of inserting her IV and beginning hydration? You see, A had ceased throwing up when we pulled into the second hospital’s driveway. She was over whatever it was that had a hold on her little belly. And she was thirsty. When she saw a pop bottle left behind by another patient in the waiting room, she whimpered and reached for it. In the examination room, she cried for the bottles of alcohol on the countertop because they looked so much like water. She became distracted when we washed our hands. We had to turn away when we drank out of our water bottle and I was ashamed for even doing it when she was so apparently in need of fluids. But we were told not to give her anything until they started the IV.

When they finally came, I ran out of the room crying on the phone to my father and J had words with the nurse. For being so tiny, A was the strongest of the three of us. The next day, J would be huddled on the couch and I would be resting my head on our guest room toilet and we would remember how A quietly threw up for the seventh time while reading her Elmo book, or when she snuggled closer to me on the ER bed, dressed only in her diaper.

They wanted to admit her, but my mother’s instinct told me that she would be more comfortable at home. We left at 3:30 in the morning. The next day, A was chasing after her sister as if nothing happened.

Nothing except the worst stomach flu since J&A gifted us the same thing nine years ago and J himself ended up on an IV and mooning the ER nurses at Mt. Nasty. I started at 1:00 a.m. Wednesday morning and J was close behind me at 7:00 a.m. The girls were taken away by my sister and we took turns in the bathroom throughout the day. Later that afternoon, J’s mom left popsicles on our doorstep so that she wouldn’t catch whatever it was that was infesting our house.

Suuuurrrreeeee….

It hit their house on Christmas Eve.

My parents’ house was visited by the Vomit Elf on Christmas night.

Yeah, so our Christmas wasn’t so Christmas-y after all.

I did lose three pounds though. Woo hoo!