If You're Having a Bad Day, Read This!

I had loftly plans for myself this morning. Zane’s medical tests at the hospital (an upper GI and blood work) were going to provide me with some well-deserved reading time. With a handful of toys and my book tucked into my bag, Justin, Zane, and I headed to town.

I should have known it was going to be one of those days when the low-gas light came on during the ride to Durango. I stopped to fill up before dropping Justin off at Jeff’s workplace, making us a little on the late side for our appointment. Just a little late; no big deal.

When Zane and I rolled into the hospital parking lot, all the handicapped parking places were taken. Apparently, it didn’t matter. When I opened the back of the vehicle to pull out Zane's Kimba, I realized I had left the seating insert at home beside the dining room table where I last fed him. I grabbed the bag (with reading material, toys, and diapering materials), my purse, and Zane and headed inside.

As we registered for his procedures, I caught a whiff. Nothing significant; he just needed a simple diaper change. I asked if we could skip off to the bathroom before his tests. The woman said it would be ten minutes anyway, so we were in good shape.

Of course, life is not so simple. Once we came back to the lobby, I sat Zane in the chair beside me. He started coughing and retching—the very things he was at the hospital for anyway. I did a quick diaper check again. All was good. Until I lifted him up. There was stuff everywhere: on his legs, on his pants, on MY pants, on my hands, and even on the waiting room chair. Oh. My. God. What to do? I rushed him off to the bathroom.

Stuff truly was everywhere. The woman exiting the stall must have thought I was undertaking a Frankensteinian procedure. The protective gloves were on; the pad and incontinent care spray were wildly tossed on the changing table; Zane’s clothes were off; the bag had been dumped recklessly on the floor with extra clothing, wipes, and paper towels. What a mess! After ten minutes or so, Zane was clean as a whistle. Mom: not so much. My pants had stuff smeared all over them. As hard as I tried…the signs were evident. I had been pooped on. The smell lofted up toward my nasal passages. But the show must go on. We returned to the waiting area, where I diligently cleaned the chair amidst staring eyes, then was whisked away by a very patient and understanding hospital employee.

I apologized to her, the technicians, and to the radiologist, as well.

The upper GI went well. The blood work? Well…no! He was unhappy before they even stuck him. But when they did, the tears really flowed. They couldn’t make their magic work on his left arm, so they stabbed the right. There were some mumblings, which I took to mean they were having a challenging time with the right side, as well. All the while, Zane wailed. But they finally drew the 5ccs they needed.

We zoomed out the lab area, past the doctors, nurses, administrative staff, and technicians lined up at the coffee shop. They simply stared at us: me with my poop-stained pants, toting a child who—for all they knew—had the most horrid mother in the world.

So after baths, showers, and laundry, I am feeling slightly better about my day.

The morals (yes, there is more than one):

1. Never administer Miralax to your child the day before a hospital procedure.
2. Don't get too exited about reading when taking a child to the hospital. Better to just stay up until midnight to get that book read.
3. Truly, don’t sweat the small stuff. Sure, poop everywhere—by all intents and purposes—seems like a big deal. And, to be honest, it is no picnic to go through what I did this morning. However, it’s still small stuff. With a little problem-solving and a lot of cleaning products, we got through it okay. And now we have a comic (albeit gross) story to tell.

BTW...the hospital staff was so nice and nonjudmental. I truly appreciate them for those qualities.

Speechless

I am speechless today. Back in December, we enlisted the help of an outside person to schedule Zane’s appointments for Children’s Hospital since it is a laborious and fruitless task to attempt it myself. I tried once before and failed--not due to any incompetency on my part, but because offices and clinics seem less willing to work with parents than with fellow professionals.

As many of you may recall, Zane went to Children’s in November and needed to return for follow up. He was supposed to have the following appointments:

• Anesthesia consultation
• ENT appointment
• DMSA scan of his kidneys (under sedation)
• ABR (under sedation)
• Dental cleaning (under sedation)
• Surgery consultation for his ptosis

Jeff and I have been waiting to hear of the appointment times. We had indicated the end of March (after the Destination ImagiNation tournament ends) or the beginning of April as a range of time that would work for us. We hadn’t heard anything, so I contacted the outside party. She had gone to the Complex Scheduler at The Children’s Hospital for assistance despite the fact that complex scheduling specifically lists on its webpage that they do not schedule most of the above-listed appointments.

Bottom line: no one scheduled anything. Zane has no appointments. Zippo. Zero. None. Someone did not do her job. And who is the victim? Zane.

The sad part is that when we were last in Denver, the urologist said Zane’s scan needed to take place no later than then end of March or beginning of April. And now, here we are.

This leads me to one conclusion: If you want it done, you have to do it yourself.

At this point, I don’t know what is going to happen with Zane, his kidney health, and his appointments. Denver is at least seven hours away. It’s not a simple drive down the road. This mistake has started a whole chain of events that I simply do not know how to handle.

Now that I finished my rant, I am once again back to being speechless.