The Hospital

Hospital1My monkey was 12 months old at the time.  That particular morning, he didn’t wake up like he usually does – all happy and excited.  Winter was coming in, so I figured he was coming down with a cold.  I gave him some cold medicine.  I dropped him off with my parents and headed to work.

Then my mom calls.  Something is wrong.  He’s acting different.  You need to take him to the doctor she says.

I get to the doctor’s office.  I assumed I would get a prescription, take a few doses of something and on our way home.  When the pediatrician examined him, she looks at me and says you need to go to the hospital now.  He’s having trouble breathing.  What????

I remember driving to the hospital.  Shaking.  Calling my husband.  But my monkey looked so peaceful sleeping in his car seat.  What was wrong? He looked fine. Why don’t I see this?

As I walk into the pediatric floor, the intake nurse welcomed me, and asked me to fill the paperwork.  Everything felt so simple.  Maybe he’s fine….  Maybe the pediatrician made a mistake.

Then my son collapsed on my arms.  The intake nurse sees him and uses her stethoscope to hear his lungs.  She screams “Respiratory Distress!”.  She yanks my son from my arms and starts to run to a room.

I felt my heart was going to fall out of my body.  I run after her.  They put him in a room, about 8 people show up.  I am forgetting to breath.  I need to breathe.   They are inserting tubes, an IV, and oxygen and everyone is screaming medical terms and I hear the beeping of the machines and my son isn’t responding and….

Then my cell buzzes.  My daughter.  I was supposed to pick her up from school.  She needs a ride.  Who can I call to pick her up?  Think.  I need to think.  Shaking I start texting friends.  I make so many mistakes on my texts they don’t make sense.

I then look up at the medical personnel and I felt a need to explain myself.  I tell them my daughter needs a ride.  I need someone to pick her up from school.

And at that moment, the intake nurse looks at me.  She gently places her hand on top of mine and says “Mama, he’s going to be fine.” That’s all I needed to let the flood gates open.


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