So now Aidan was feeling better. The Tylenol had kicked in and he was beginning to want out of the stroller. Now I was panicked. I couldn't let him roam about the tiny waiting room! What should I do? I hefted the diaper bag out form underneath the stroller and began to fish for something amusing. Diapers? No he only likes those when he's taking them off. Wipes? Don't want anyone to see his penchant for sucking on them. Bottle? He was barely taking fluids. Ah ha! The Binky pocket!
Aidan has an addiction to binkies, one we are trying to break him of. If his sister has a binky and he doesn't, guess who gets her binky stolen? Our diaper bag had a detachable pocket made to carry one binky. I had also attached a rubber duck keychain to the pocket so I could distinguish my bag from anyone else's. (As if I were going to be in a room full of mothers who had the same diaper bag as me. We all know every Mom has her own style of diaper bag. Mine is navy blue and doesn't look like much but Mark will carry it. Plus it's washable but that's another story.) I grabbed Aidan's attention and let him watch me put a binky in the pocket and close the Velcro top. Now he was fascinated. I then handed him the pocket and let him go to town. First he had to figure out how to open it and remove the binky. It is amazing how much like little scientists all children are, testing items and their parents at every turn.
Next, he learned to put the binky back in. This was accomplished first by shoving and then by handing it to me to finish. Eventually, he had it down and was happily repeating the process, committing it to memory no doubt, so he could sneak binkies from the diaper bag in the future.
At this time, I moved us to a seat closer to the door to the real ER. Where the rooms are. Now I was sitting next to the teenage cowboy and ranch owner. They were on the "fast track" because he had broken his ankle. He had ridden a bull and did fine, until his dismount. He landed wrong and he'd been in the ER from the time I came in. That was around 6pm it was now pushing 11pm. The male nurse with a Scottish accent came back out and both the rancher and I went for it. We beckoned him over and asked about cases. Told me I had two people ahead of me, I slumped back into the chair. There was no sense in yelling at him, and besides I loved Scotland. My mom was there at the moment in a house she rents and I found myself wondering what their emergency room service was like.
The next thing I knew, Aidan was called back. I looked over at the cowboy in shock. He frowned and said “so much for fast track.” I happily wheeled our mammoth stroller after the nurse as fast as I could go. I felt that if I didn’t keep up I would somehow lose my chance. It was silly, but the feeling was there. I wheeled Aidan past people moaning on gurneys in the hallways and was led into an enclosed room with a bed. The nurse assured me the doctor would be in soon. I instantly put Aidan on the bed and he, now losing the little energy he regained from the Tylenol, lay back and let his eyelids droop. I covered him with his blanket only to have a nurse come in a tell me to take it off.
“But he’s shivering” I grumbled.
“I know it seems cruel but you need to keep him cool.” And off she went
Next the Scottish nurse came back in. I told him I was baptized in Scotland and then asked where he was from.
“Ayr.” He replied. The way he said it sounded like he said “air” so, not having ever heard of Air Scotland, unless we’re talking planes, I heard “here”.
“No from Scotland. Where are you from?”
“Ayr”. I looked baffled.
“You’re from here?”
“No Scotland.”
“But where in Scotland?” About now he was giving me the look I always hate getting when I am traveling. The “you stupid American” look. He sighed.
“Ayr it’s near Glasgow.” I felt like we were Abott and Costello doing who's on first and giggled. Then I quickly explained that my mother was in the highlands, while I kept my hand on Aidan’s back. He nodded, checked Aidan over, noticed that his fever seemed to have come back and told me the doctor would be right in.
I heard that the doctor would be right in about 3 more times before he showed up. At this point Aidan was asleep, and I crept the blanket up to his knees because looking at him lying in a diaper shivering was too hard to handle. When the Dr. finally arrived, I was sitting on a chair by the bed resting my head, with my hand on Aidan so if I drifted off and he moved, I’d awaken. It was midnight.
“You have a sick little guy.” At this point I almost screamed “CUT TO THE CHASE give us our antibiotics and for goodness sake LET US GO HOME!” But I’m only that flamboyant in my mind and it was midnight, so I nodded. I didn’t take the time to point out that it didn’t take a medical degree to see that Aidan was very sick. How many toddlers do you know that lay still when awake?
“Well I looked over his chest x-ray and he has pneumonia in his right lung. You’ll need to push fluids, give him the antibiotics I prescribe and switch back and froth between Tylenol and Motrin.” I was still at pneumonia. That was a big word for such a little boy. I had heard the horror stories of people losing their child to pneumonia. (So the stories were based in the 1800’s, it was still scary.) “His fever has come back and he’s panting a little so I’m going to watch him for a little while and then you can go.”
A little while was another hour. I sang, held and rocked, petted and cooed Aidan until I felt like I was going to crash. I had not stayed up past midnight since Abby was born. When New Year’s came Mark and I were in bed at 9pm. The only time I saw midnight was if someone needed feeding. I was beginning to feel the exhaustion and knew I still had a long drive back across town to get home. I called Grandpa Ralph and told him we were almost done. I called Mark and gave him the news. He, too, had been staying awake at the show he was working to hear the verdict.
At 1:30 am we left the ER and began our trek in the now windy and cold night to the car. The ER was at the bottom of the hill and the car was around the building at the top. (Because I had parked where their old ER had been.) I bundled Aidan and quickly walked back the way I had came earlier that evening. I found the door locked. CRAP! I kept going around the back of the building thinking there must be a pathway up the hill. It was very dark at the back of the hospital and a bit creepy. Aidan was thrilled by the street lamps and kept saying “star star.”
I saw a woman as I walked past and she informed me to not come back to the area alone. I found it odd that they would think anyone would mug someone near a hospital, told her thank you, and pressed on. I found a cement pathway through some ivy and pushed Aidan up it to the top of the hill. By now I was puffing some from being out of shape. To my dismay at the crest of the hill was not my car, nor a way to it, but another building. Cursing softly I turned Aidan around and began the journey down the hill hoping to not lose grip on the stroller. The light part of this adventure was Aidan chanting “star star” each time we passed a lamppost. Down we went back around the building back to the ER entrance and then up another hill and around the other side of the hospital back to the car. (And I’d parked in the handicap spot because my legs were fatigued that day.)
Finally we were in the car. Next a security truck drove up and sat idling near my car. What was odd about the truck was that I didn’t feel he was watching because he was protecting me, I felt he was watching me because I had been acting suspicious around the back of the hospital. I could just hear them on the walkie-talkie “weird lady in the back climbing through the ivy with stroller, follow her.”
I watched him watch me as I put Aidan in his seat, collapsed the stroller and hopped into the driver’s seat. I looked at the truck which had not moved and then longingly at my pizza which was sitting next to me. I had planned to eat a few bites before heading out but it was clear the security guard was waiting for me to leave. I turned on the car and the headlights and the truck left. I snuck a bite of pizza and drove us home on empty streets.
In the next week Aidan’s fever broke and he went back to running us ragged. Everyone was proud of me for driving, in rush hour traffic, when they all knew I was nervous of it. I was proud of myself for being capable to do exactly what I needed to do which was: a mom.
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