Current
Location: Sacramento, CA
A recent
event at the Frat House seems to have warranted a blog entry and reminded Ben
and I to be grateful for something we tend to take for granted; our children’s
health.
Although we
navigated the waters of critical illness when Mickey was born, we have been
fortunate to have nothing more than colds, flu, sprains and the occasional
vomiting (the kids, not us….if you don’t count Ben and my college days…and mid
20’s….beer bongs will do that to you). So as the hours progressed, we anxiously, watched
our child become increasingly ill. At one point our eyes met and without
uttering a word, we concurred on one simple notion.
“Dang, I’m glad
this didn’t happen when we were cruising.”
Let me
preface this with the fact that we would not have changed our mind about living
on a sailboat and residing in foreign countries. However, when something like this occurs, it
does make us pause and reflect on the question, how would this all played out, if
we were living on a sailboat?
The day
began as any other, the boys woke up to their alarms, got dressed, made their
breakfasts and were ready to go 30 minutes early, as their parents
procrastinated, hit their snooze alarms and waited until the last possible
moment to slide out of bed. This is not
an exaggeration and we have no idea how it happened, but our children are ready
to go every morning before we can press the button on the coffee maker. I know this does not present us in the best
light as parents, but on this blog I try to always tell it like it is.
So the boys
and I walked to their elementary school where I was teaching for the day and
have been working regularly. Apparently,
J.P. complained of a stomach ache to his
big brother at morning recess, warranting the suggestion, “Go and see the
nurse” (please note, their school does not actually have a nurse, but the boys
don’t seem to be aware of this, since Mrs. Tracy and Mrs. Shelly are highly
skilled band-aid administers).
J.P. decided
to soldier on until the end of the school day, even gutting it out for his
basketball practice. Afterwards, we all
walked home without incident, the Frat House mother still without any knowledge
of a stomach ache. Upon entering the house, the boys found a bag of hidden
Doritos in the pantry and celebrated the treasure by wolfing it down. It should
be noted that the regular after school Frat House snack is blueberries, popcorn
or edamame. This is the honest truth and
I’m not making it up because I sounded like a lazy mother at the beginning of
this entry.
A couple of
hours later those same Doritos propelled themselves out of J.P.’s stomach into
our lovely stainless All-Clad stock pot. With
concern and sympathy we watched the poor, young lad get sicker and sicker. After interrogating the patient, I was
concerned when he informed me that the stomach pain had now migrated to the
lower right hand side of his abdomen.
Amongst his
anguish and vomiting, J.P. looked over at me after I had cleaned out another
pot full of orange regurgitated Doritos and said, “Thanks mom for cleaning up
my puke.”
I took heart
that if I had failed at all other aspects of mothering, my children turned out
to be quite appreciative.
At this
point, I decided to confirm my motherly intuition on Web MD and there it was in
black and white, an acute appendicitis. Ugh! Ben called the advice nurse and
ordered us to go to the Emergency Room where they would admit him to the
hospital. By this time it was 11:00 p.m.
so we called our friend, Chris to stay with Mickey who was blissfully unaware
of any drama, snoozing away in his bed. Into the night we drove with brave,
J.P. in the backseat vomiting into my favorite stockpot.
As some of
you know, an ER can be a carnival ride-freak show on steroids, yet I had high
hopes of some normalcy, it being Monday night and all. No such luck. However,
they saw J.P. right away for which we were grateful. When the nurse asked him
when the pain began J.P. answered in a serious tone, “At 7:50 this morning.”
She turned
to us, winked and said, “Well, I guess that’s precise enough.”
He further
entertained when he proclaimed to the nurse taking his blood pressure, “This is
perfect for what we are studying in class. Medical history! I will learn a lot
here.”
James
Patrick Doolittle….a patient AND a scholar!
They
immediately put in an I.V., drew blood, performed an ultrasound and confirmed Dr.
Molly’s diagnosis of ‘acute appendicitis’.
He was soon tucked into an ER hospital bed and given some pain
medication. At this point he turned to us and asked, “Do you think I will miss
school tomorrow?”
The curtain
between J.P. and his new roommate, an inebriated 70 year old, provided a visual
barrier, yet we were still privy to all of his verbal communication, mostly
with himself. One such conversation went
like this:
Roommate
sneezes loudly.
“Excuse me!”
“God Bless
You”
“Thank you.”
“You're
welcome!”
One would
think there were multiple people on the other side, but it was just him
enjoying his own company and being pleasantly polite to himself. This got a silent chuckle from me, Ben and
even J.P.
When we
broke the news to our nine year old boy of the impending surgery, he cried quietly
while processing his new reality. We explained that he would go to sleep and
not remember the procedure and would eventually start to feel better. To this
he responded, “But what if I wake up in the middle of it?”
Ooops! We
neglected to inform him that it’s not like his nightly sleep! We quickly
backtracked and let him know there was special medicine that keeps people
unconscious until well after the surgery. Our bad!
 |
Middle of the night ER, waiting for the ambulance.
We brought his favorite blanket from home. |
Comforted by
this fact and a dose of morphine, he dozed off, however 15 minutes later his
big, sweet, beautiful eyes blinked opened, looking up at me hopefully. He then asked me a question that broke my
heart, “Did they cut it out yet? Is it over?”
As night
evolved into early morning, the staff informed us that he would need to be
transferred to Sutter Memorial Hospital where there was a pediatric surgeon on
staff. The EMTs arrived about an hour
later and were very sweet with the patient asking him questions about himself and
being very kind. As they conversed with J.P., he divulged that we had lived on a
sailboat and traveled for two years. This warranted a comment from one of them that made all of us chuckle, "I don't think I've ever said this to a
nine year old before, but I'm so jealous of you!!"
With that,
J.P. was loaded into an ambulance and taken the 2.2 miles to the facility where
he would have surgery. Ben rode with him
and asked the EMT’s if they could turn on the sirens and lights to which they
obliged. Oh, boys and their toys!
As I
followed in the car, appreciating a moment of solitude, thoughts blazed through
my brain. Would J.P. be ok? What if
there were complications with the surgery? Could he have an allergic reaction
to the medicine and anesthesia? The damn
broke and I was soon in tears driving through the empty streets of Midtown
Sacramento. Noticing that the hysteria was
building, I said a prayer and calmed myself down. Sailing 10,000 miles taught
me many invaluable things. Perhaps the most significant was that hysteria is
not a great strategy when all hell breaks loose.
As a side
note, we received a call a couple of days later from the ambulance company who
informed us that the 2.2 miles ambulance ride cost $2,000. We are covered for
it, but WOW!! For that amount of money, shouldn’t it have been tricked out with
gold rims and staffed with a butler serving cocktails???
After
arriving at 3:00 am, J.P. was brought to the pediatric ward where we awaited
confirmation of his surgery time. When the pediatric nurse came in and informed
us that the surgeon was on call and would be in at 6:00 am, I wasn’t concerned.
However, she then proceeded to tell me, “The hospital will fit him in sometime
later today because the schedule is quite full”.
I couldn’t
believe my ears. Mama Bear had been awakened from hibernation and she was NOT
happy! <Enter GROWL here>
Ben had
returned home to get some sleep and stay with Mickey, so I’m sure he was concerned
when I texted him at 5:30 am. Before I print below the text exchange, please
note a few things about Ben and myself as husband and wife.
Molly - The Irish one, tends to be easy going until
pushed too far, turning quite hot headed (especially when someone messes with
her children). In addition, she has an
endless desire to get things out in the open and tends to express every emotion
as it bubbles to the surface. Let’s just say I’m not a woman who says to her
husband, “No, I’m fine” when I’m upset. This can be a blessing and a curse.
Ben – the
ultimate example of an easy-going guy and truly lives by the philosophy, “It’s
all good!” . He tends to avoid confrontation if possible, but will put up a
good fight when needed. The text
exchange went like this:
Molly: How r
u guys doing? I’m ready to start kicking some butt here if they don’t get him
in there (surgery) soon. He’s been awake off and on and keeps asking me when.
What’s your plan?
Ben: No plan
here. Explain to JP that they will need to fit him into a full schedule.
Molly: Yes,
but I’m not ok w/ that. It’s been 7 hours since diagnosis and really don’t
think we should be waiting any longer. U may want to get down here to play
peacekeeper.
Molly
(cont.): Scratch that, get down here and be my back up. I think it would be
good if u were here sooner rather than later. I can send Kathy if u want (to
take care of Mickey).
Ben: You tell me. Shall I check w/ chris or is
Kathy on her way? Or I can b there in about one hour just dropping him off a
little early….whatever you like.
This is
where I terminated texting and made an actual phone call to my husband. With
the conversation that ensued, I came to realize that I was looking for Ben to
be at the hospital to make sure I didn’t get hysterical with the medical staff.
With no sleep and a stressful night behind us, I was feeling extremely
emotional, tired and anxious. We were
also at a difference of opinion, in that Ben was not seeing the urgency about
getting J.P. into surgery, and I was. So if that was my deal, why the heck was
I waiting for him? It was time to put on my big girl pants and take care of
business.
So I hailed
the amazing, nurturing, kind night nurse to our room and asked her to meet me
outside in the hall. As I expressed my concerns about the timeline of the
surgery, she was an attentive and active listener (Honestly, I really don’t
know how these people do this job…it takes a strong and wonderful person).
When she
reached out her hand and rubbed my arm, telling me everything would be alright,
Mama Bear stormed out of her lair and this nurse now became my prey.
It went
something like this….
Molly: Thank you for your kindness, but this is what
I want you to do (pointing a finger… I know soooo bad, but I couldn’t help
it). Pick up the phone, call the
pediatric surgeon and tell her that I am NOT ok with this timeline of fitting
him in where they can. I don’t know if this is a communication thing, but I
want it to be known he needs to be in surgery ASAP. Here’s my point, if they
have diagnosed him with appendicitis…the only next step in this scenario is
that it will burst and we all know that’s NOT good.
I looked
into the nurse’s eyes to see the horror of “Oh, crap this mom is seriously on
the brink of an emotional breakdown”…which made me even more angry.
Molly (in a
hauntingly calm, quiet voice): Look, I know you think I’m being emotional and
I’m telling you not make that mistake. Let me be very clear with you. This is
what I want you to do:
(Molly holding up 1 finger) “One. Call the pediatric surgeon.”
(Holding up 2 fingers) “Two. Tell her the mother of this patient has serious concerns about
the timeline for this surgery due to the decline of this child’s health which
includes a high fever and increasing pain. Also there is the growing anxiety by
the 9 year old patient about the impending surgery. He is waking up every 30
minutes asking me ‘When mom? When?’.”
(Holding up 3 fingers) “Three. Then take a pen and write down in the file my concerns, that you made this call and the surgeon’s response”
(Holding up 4 fingers) “Four
And if there is no response, I want some doctor down
here to explain to me the health benefits of waiting. Do....you….understand….me?”
To her
credit, the nurse squeaked, “Yes.”
 |
Awaiting surgery. Who wouldn't fight for this bear cub?
Jon bravely stood by J.P! The nurses even gave him his very own hospital bracelet. |
I felt
momentarily guilty that I had just shot the messenger, but was proud that I
didn’t go all “Shirley Maclaine” from Terms of Endearment on the woman. BUT-if I had to, I would have!! The movie clip actually played through my
head as I talked to the nurse.
The scene I
am referring to, takes place in a hospital, where a daughter is dying of
cancer and receiving pain meds to keep her comfortable until her impending
death. Her mother is quite persuasive when the nurses are late administering the medication. If you haven’t seen it, here you go:
I remember
watching the movie with my mother when I was in high school. The scene moved my
mother to tears and at the time I did not understanding why. Now having my own
children, it is crystal clear.
A few
minutes later the nurse returned and reported that J.P. was scheduled for
surgery at 7:00 a.m. With her duty done,
growling Mama Bear now retreated back to her lair.
Ben returned to the hospital just as the surgeon
arrived to explain the procedure to both us and J.P., answering all of our
questions patiently. She chuckled when the charming patient informed her in a
morphine induced haze, that he had a medical research report due in a couple of
weeks. He hoped to choose appendicitis as his topic. Much to his surprise, Dr. Graf offered to
take a photograph of his appendix during surgery.
They soon prepped him for surgery and he was whisked off to
the operating room. Unlike 35+ years ago when I had my appendix out, they
catered to J.P.’s emotional needs quite beautifully. For instance, they allowed
him to have his beloved teddy bear, Jon with him during surgery and put him to
sleep while we were still by his side. I remember crying hysterically when they
told my parents to leave the room while they prepared me for surgery.
They were
able to do laparoscopic surgery and all went well much to our relief. Later, as
J.P. recovered back in his hospital room, the surgeon dropped by to check on
him and delivered the photograph of his now defunct appendix. We were tickled
by the gesture and J.P. proclaimed, “I’m totally going to get a good grade on
this!”
 |
| Yep, we took photos in the recovery room. Don't judge, the nurse suggested we take them! |
 |
| Now that's a selfie! |
He spend the
next two days recovering in his private hospital room complete with his own television,
adjustable bed, food delivery and people catering to his every need. J.P. was
in heaven!! When they informed him he
could go home the following day he said, “Do I have to? I really like it here.”
 |
| Who would want to leave this place?? |
As we posted
updates on Facebook on his recovery, we were thankful for all of our family and
friends well wishes. One such comment made me chuckle and to again ponder the
question, “What if this happened while we were cruising?”
Our fellow
cruising friend, Heather, posted a comment which makes me laugh because of the
truth in it! Background; the “Perlas”
are the Las Perlas Islands. They are a series of small islands a day sail away
from Panama City, Panama. A “head” is
the toilet on a boat.
“Can you imagine if
this had happened 10 months ago, while in the Perlas? We ALL would have been looking
at him like a boat project, similar to taking the head apart. This way is MUCH
better. Speedy recovery!”
I know it
may not make sense to you land living mothers, but every time I read this it
still cracks me up! A ‘normal’ mom may feel terror or shame, but when I
reflected on this, I felt relief! We
would have figured it out and while it would have been challenging to get him
to a hospital and communicate in a foreign language, I have no doubt we would
have received the necessary care.
There would
have been a community of cruisers milling around figuring out if we could take
care of this ourselves. After reaching the conclusion it was outside our
expertise, we would have banded together and got him to a hospital. That’s what I learned
while cruising, the balancing of self sufficiency and not hesitate to get
the help when you need it.
And now another
edition of the…..
FLOATING FRAT HOUSE FOLLIES:
Part #1:
While recovering from surgery, J.P. was
complaining of increasing pain. The nurse suggested going pee since a full
bladder can create pressure on the wound.
He then urinated into
the bedpan, filling it to the top.
J.P. (clearly
relieved): Oh God! That was my second
most favorite thing so far.
Nurse: What was your
first?
J.P.: The I.V.
Nurse: Why the I.V.?
J.P.: Because you can
give me all sorts of medicine and I don’t have to get a shot or take that nasty
tasting stuff through my mouth.
Part #2:
After learning about
our sailing trip, a nurse asked J.P., “So do you like to travel?”
The nine year old J.P.
replied, “Yeah, but I think I’ve had my fill of it.”
Cheers!!
Molly
