On Sunday evening we had visitors. A good friend of mine, whose children are in the girls scouts, so they were over to sell us cookies. During the chatting/selling process I noticed that Megan was looking at me as if she were quite angry. I told her that I was going to drive the neighbors home (it was dark, and the girls were little and I couldn’t find my flashlight to lend them) and that she could yell at me when I got back.
I was gone about 10 minutes. When I got back I heard crying from upstairs. Sprawled on her back and tears streaming down her face, Megan said, “Mommy! I hurt, all over!”
She had been given a prescription for Vicodin after her adventure with the ruptured ovarian cyst, but hadn’t used any (even though she’d been in pain off and on for those three weeks in between that ER visit and this). I got out the meds and announced that now would be a good time to use one. I have her one, saying that if the pain wasn’t better in half a hour, she could take the other one of the 1 – 2 prescribed on the bottle. Shortly after than I thought to ask her more specifically about the location of the pain.
She spread her hands wide across her back, right over her kidneys. Hmmmmm, she’d been complaining that it hurt to pee earlier in the week and I’d had Mark (my adorable hubby, her loving dad) pick up some Cranactin, which works great for handling bladder infections. And in fact, it had helped some, right before the pain hit.
Anyhoo, after she showed me where it hurt, I told her to go get stuff to keep her occupied, because we were going to Urgent Care.
Now, granted, my track-record for telling her what was wrong was way off. I’d thought that the ruptured cyst was a yeast infection (don’t ask, I know it doesn’t make any sense in retrospect, but I wasn’t familiar with ovarian cyst symptoms, having never had one). But I was pretty sure that that was what this was.
So she grabs her computer, a blanket, her DS (a little hand-held computer game thing, which most of you know about, but I’ve only been introduced to in the last four months), sheet music and a drawing pad. I grab my book and we head off.
We sign in at 7:15 and are seen by the triage nurse about 20 minutes later. She asks for symptoms and takes vitals. Megan’s heartrate is at about 140. That’s high. High enough that the triage nurse is worried. She sends us to sit and wait, which we do. At one point, Meg turns to me and says, “Mom, I don’t hurt, I feel silly being here.”
“Uh. I gave you a vicodin an hour ago, of course you don’t hurt any more, silly girl. And no we’re not going home before you’re seen by a doctor.”
So we sit and we joke and we wait and we joke some more and she leans her head on my shoulder and we wait some more. Eventually the triage nurse comes over and brings us to a small room off the waiting room. It’s got a gurney, and a chair, but that’s it. She brings blood vials and the set up for an iv drip.
We’ve not seen a doc, just the triage nurse. This is completely backwards from how things are normally supposed to go. But then, this isn’t out of the norm for Meg either. She came into the world, not breech, but sunnyside up (facing up, which is not the normal pathway in to the world, it’s more painful for the mother and the child. . .).
The blood draw and iv set up is not nearly so traumatic as the last time. We’re all happy for that.
We eventually get taken to a proper room, where the tech who brought us in has to clean it up after we get there. So we’re standing, waiting (Megan’s holding her iv bag up in the air above her head as we wait).
Then he leaves, without another word. So we wait. Eventually an efficient, very funny fellow named Bob comes in.
“Huh, first time the patient has *shown up* with an iv. You’re special.”
They hand her a cup to pee in. We’d already gotten one from the very first woman we saw, but Meg didn’t have to pee yet, so we were still holding on to the tiny pink tray with the two “wipeys” and the labelled cup.
Jokes about her having two pee cups ensue. They weren’t very funny, or at least not funny enough for me to remember, but we laughed.
She pees in the cup and comes back and we wait some more. Bob comes back to check on a few things, leaves and comes back again saying, “Haven’t you seen the doc yet?”
Doc? We thought he was the Doc. He had been wearing green scrubs, with blue booties on. An incorrect assumption on my part.
So, now it’s 10:15, the doc finally shows up, says that it’s a kidney infection, that he’s going to give Meg a big dose of antibiotics and send her home.
IV antibiotics take 20 minutes to deliver. Who knew? Well, medical folk probably know, but we didn’t. Megan’s trying to draw, because she’s bored, but it’s hurting where the iv was inserted. Then she gets her Chamber music out and starts to sing.
After the adventure in December, this trip is much more relaxed and boring, which was just fine with me. I’d rather be bored than worried.
So, she’s home with pretty green pills to take. I’ve also got her on Probiotics, to help counteract the messing with the GI tract that comes with broad spectrum antibiotics. And pumping her full of peppermint tea, because she doesn’t really like to drink water.
And that’s the rest of the story.