We’ve had a rash of emergency room visits lately.
And one thing you may not know about me is that I am a “slap a bandaid on it and you’ll be fine” type of gal. Bloody gash? Slap a bandaid on it. Stepped on some glass? Slap a bandaid on it. Twisted ankle? Really, you’ll be fine!
All that to say that I don’t run off to the E.R. for a sore throat or slight fever. So visiting the emergency room twice in one month is a big deal for us!
The first one was our rough and tumble donk-buster, who doesn’t flinch during blood draws or dental procedures. You know when you have a kid that never complains about pain? When they are rolling around on the floor holding their heads, wailing in pain, you believe that kid needs urgent care.
It turned out to be her very first migraine, with the classic signs: flashing lights, severe pain, sensitivity to light and sound, dizziness, vomiting, numbness in arm.
It was very scary to see her in so much pain, since she rarely ever is.
The E.R. was packed and we were in the waiting room for 2 hours! After vomiting 6 times from the pain, she was finally admitted and was given 3 different i.v. medications before the pain subsided. We went home in the wee hours of the morning with a prescription in case anything like that ever happened again.
The most recent emergency room visit was with our newly turned 18 year old, who called me from her gymnastics practice and told me in a very calm voice that she had fallen and I would need to come pick her up.
When I arrived she was still sitting calmly where she had fallen. She had to be carried to the van because she couldn’t get up. The entire time, she seemed to be in only mild discomfort. I told her she probably had just sprained her ankle, but she asked to be taken to the hospital anyway.
The diagnosis was a broken fibula!
She only winced when it was time to set it for the splint.
In other, totally unrelated news, we found a big bowl of dirt in our chest freezer. The culprit had apparently spilled half the bowl while putting it in, so that should be a fun clean up.
We lined all the kids up, explained the scenario and asked for a confession. Crickets. We got nothing. We said we knew good and well that one of them had put the bowl of dirt in there, so they might as well come clean.
The world may never know. What I want to know is… a bowl of dirt? In the freezer? Really? What in the world?
I have some weird kids.