There apparently is a motherhood right of passage that I've just completed. The first hospital visit. This past week, 9 1/2 month old Michael contracted a rather unpleasant respiratory virus. After struggling on Thursday and Friday morning, we decided it was time to see the doctor. Our wonderful pediatrican did some tests and some treatments, but her intervention wasn't quite enough for our little guy, so off to the ER at Children's Hospital we went.
Before I get into lessons learned, let me assure you that Michael is now fine. He was the darling of the hospital. The doctors called him a 'happy wheezer', and he developed a reputation amongst the nurses and doctors as "the baby who always greets you with a smile when you enter his room".
Now a hospital pro, here is what I learned:
1. If you have to go to the ER on a Friday, arrive close to or before 5:00pm. We got there at 5:00 and were admitted immediately. (didn't hurt that our ped had called ahead and we had some oxygen issues) By about 6:00, the wait was +30 minutes and by 8:00, they were sending patients to other hospitals.
2. When you are leaving the house to go to the doctor for what you think could be a hospitalize-able illness, pack your big diaper bag, not your cute little one. And pack yourself a snack. And a bottle of water. And a sweater. And a pair of clean underwear wouldn't hurt. And a toy and a book for baby.
3. Hospital chairs are really uncomfortable. Ok, I have no advice here. Just stating fact.
4. This one kills me - the only food at the SD Children's Hospital is a McDonalds and a cafeteria (which according to my pediatrician is about the same as McDonalds). Ummm...childhood obesity is a raging problem in our society and the only food I can get is a quarter pounder. Oh yes, there are apple dippers - not even a half an apple, and a thing of carmel sauce made with high fructose corn syrup. Super healthy.
5. Make friends with all the staff. The more they like you, the more attention you get. While we were in the ER, our bed was right near the nurse's station where the attending physician was sitting. She and I had a little chit-chat, I empathized with her long shifts, blah blah blah, and before I knew it, I heard her begging with someone 'upstairs' to give us the last bed that would be available that night.
6. It probably is going to kill our insurance, but if you can get admitted, the rooms and beds are ever so slightly more comfortable. At least there was no longer a plastic chair. And (this is a big deal if you have a baby who is wiggly) they have cribs instead of beds.
7. Always keep your cell phone charged. Apparently it is no longer true that cell phones are prohibited. I was able to send updates to family and "please bring me..." lists to Larry with a few clicks of my thumbs. (my phone charger was the 1st thing on my 1st "please bring me" list)
8. Try to stay positive and confident. Trust your maternal instincts. If something doesn't seem right, question it and stick to your guns. But try to be specific and calm. And it helps to understand that sometimes the treatment looks worse than the illness. This is a tough one, but as a parent, you have to just suck it up. Ok...bad pun since the treatment we had to suffer through was the tubes down Michael's nose and throat sucking up all the snot in his lungs.
9. Once you are home from the hospital, you will be exhausted, both mentally and physically. Try to arrange for some quiet family-only time to recharge.
10. I don't know that I have a #10, but it just seems like there should be a #10. So one last thought - if you get admitted "upstairs" just hope that your kid and the other one sharing the room are in diapers. Then you get to use the in-room bathroom. If not, you have to hike out to the 'public' bathroom whenever you need to 'go'.
Ok, one more
11. It's tough for Dad too. They may handle the crisis different than we moms do, but it's still tough for them. Flipping out at them is probably not a good idea. And if you really need them to just hug you while you cry a little, you may need to ask them. They may be too busy trying to hide their feelings to realize that you're about to lose it.
So now it's time to kiss my boys and say a prayer or a chant or a spell or whatever of thanks that Michael made it through this ordeal and that William seems to have escaped the ick. And hug my husband. And maybe even still cry a little. At least until morning when I get to see "the baby who always greets you with a smile when you enter his room."
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