Fast-forward to this evening around 8:00. We were on our way home from Costco to put Lila to bed when she tried to pull the necklace off and it broke. The beads went everywhere. She handed me a bunch of them and I picked up several more. I told her we'd get them all cleaned up when we got home and not to put them in her mouth.
A few seconds later she whined from the backseat, "Sompin' in my nose!" I turned around and saw that her left nostril was swollen as though a little round pea-shaped object had been shoved up there. I bet you see where this is going.
I panicked. "PULL OVER!!" I yelled at Eric and scrambled out of the car to get closer to Lila (somehow, I should mention, my shoe came off and I was standing on the side of the road with only one flip-flop). By this time she was in hysterics. I tried to push the bead down and out, but it was really stuck in there. "I CAN'T GET IT OUT!" I yelled.
"Get in the car," Eric said in a commanding voice, "we're going to the ER."
I scrambled into the backseat and held Lila's hands away from her face as I whispered into her ear that everything was okay. She continued to scream bloody murder. Eric sped down the frontage road and I prayed we wouldn't get in an accident on our way. Fortunately we were only a few minutes from the hospital.
By the time we got there, Lila had calmed down and was just sniffling pathetically. The woman at the check-in desk was quite smitten with Lila who was now in a sort of wide-eyed shock. She checked us in and we were sent to the waiting room.
We sat down and both Eric and I went for our phones. "Are you going to take a picture?" I asked him.
"No, I was going to let her watch a video on my phone while we wait," responded the better parent.
And then I sent that picture to my sister and parents with the following text: First ER visit.
Approximately 45 seconds later, my phone rang as predicted. And while I was talking to Jess, my dad called. In hindsight, I should have given more information in that message.
By then, they had moved us into our room. And I took some more pictures.
Lila got to watch TV and play with the remote until she accidentally called the nurse at the front desk and then Daddy took over remote responsibilities.
I continued my documenting of this whole experience (is it wrong that as soon as I realized we weren't in a dire situation my thoughts immediately went to how I was going to blog about this?) by interviewing Lila, who was surprisingly articulate about the whole thing:
The whole shark, sock, shock misunderstanding in the video is actually pretty funny. The triage nurse had commented on how calm Lila was and I had said that I thought she was sort of in shock. Lila must have heard me say that so when I was interviewing her she told me "I have shock." I gotta be really careful about what I say in her company. The girl doesn't miss a thing.
Anyway, we waited for about an hour during which we were visited by the guy who makes sure we have insurance and can pay for our visit, a nurse, a doctor, another nurse and finally another doctor who was actually the one who would be performing the extraction. He explained that they would have to hold her down and try to pull the bead out, but that sometimes "all you end up with is a sweaty doctor and a child with a bloody nose and then she might have to go into surgery to get it out." Oh my. This is when my prayers went into overdrive.
He stepped out of the room and I prayed with Lila that Jesus would be with her and that the doctor would be able to get the bead out and that Lila would be calm and not be afraid. Then I explained that the doctors were going to hold her still and use a special tool to pull the bead out of her nose. I told her she had to try to lay very still and that Mommy and Daddy would be with her the whole time.
Then, two doctors and two nurses walked in. The main doctor instructed each of them to hold her down while I crouched by her face and told her how proud of her I was and that she was doing a good job. So while three men pinned my daughter to the bed, the doctor tried to swipe that bead out with a hooked tool. Lila amazed me. She was quiet and calm and only complained that the light was too bright in her eyes. Unfortunately, the first attempt was unsuccessful. When they released her, she sat up and looked at me like, "There. That's over with. Can we go now?" Then she was a little disconcerted when the doctor and his team moved in on her again with a new tool in hand.
The second attempt did not go over as well. I don't know if the little tweezer-like tool hurt her nose more or if she knew what to expect now so she had some anticipatory fear, but as soon as they held her down again she started crying. It was the saddest thing. She kept looking at me for help and wailing, "Moooommmmmyyyyy!!!" I just tried to smile at her and tell her she was doing such a good job and that she was okay and I was there and promised her fruit snacks when it was all over. I sort of had this flash forward to Lila in labor with her first child, looking at me for help and reassurance to make the pain stop and Get This Thing Out of ME! And then, to continue the weird labor metaphor, with one last push, the bead popped out of her nose and there was an exclamation of relief and happiness in the room.
The doctor peeked in her nose again to make sure that there wasn't anything else in there and then Lila climbed into my arms and clung to me, still wailing.
I was so relieved and I think all the tension was sort of wearing off all at once so I was starting to feel a little giddy. Plus I hadn't eaten dinner yet so I was feeling kind of out of it. All of which are my excuses for awkwardly calling the doctor "Kevin" instead of Doctor because I was all flustered and saw his nametag that said Kevin and it just came out. Also I usually take Lila to see either my uncle or one of several friends who are doctors so I'm used to calling doctors by their first names. I know, totally disrespectful of the doc who just saved us a visit to surgery, but I'm hoping he just brushed it off.
After the room cleared out, we had to wait for the staff to process our paperwork. So of course, I went back to my Mommy journalist role:
All in all, I think we came out unscathed.
The only evidence of the whole ordeal are the faded blue stain on her upper lip, a $75 hole in our bank account left by the ER co-pay, and a slight wheezing sound from Lila as she breathes. As I type, I can hear Lila breathing on the monitor. She sounds like Dr. Kelso on Scrubs after he gets punched (skip to 3:35):
Oh yeah. And this:
|The temporary resident of Lila's left nostril.|
So, there it is. As the Husband said in a text to his family, "Our first ER visit is on the books. Doctors: 1, Bead in Lila's Nose: 0."
Let's hope this one is our first AND last.