Well now, we have had a slightly interesting morning. Feisty Pants had
some tummy issues this week which ended up causing her to miss two and a half
days from school. But she is good now, thanksforasking, and back up and raring
to go. However, a couple or million days of worrying about her leaves her
parents, well, a tad edgy. So, when her father started banging on the living
room wall and yelling about how we had to take her to the hospital RIGHT NOW, I
was instantly awake and in full adrenaline mode. At 6 effing AM on a Sunday.
Only to find out he was overeacting.
You see her g-tube had fallen out. (That's the tube that goes
directly into her stomach through which she is fed.) Goo went to give her her
morning meds and found it lying in her bed next to her. Well, half of it . And
got a little panicky thinking the rest of it must be in her tummy. Did I
mention Goo is 6' 3" and built like a middle aged linebacker? (Seriously, think Dan to my
Rosanne.) So when he starts yelling and pounding to get your attention, it's
like a blitzkrieg. Especially at 6 effing am on a quiet Sunday morning. In
his defense, this is a man who has done cpr on his youngest daughter at least
six times. That's at least six more times than any human being should ever have
to do. In my defense, when he starts yelling and waking me, I panic a bit too.
And I'm panicking whilst doing special needs child health care physics in my head. ("The
hospital we prefer does NOT usually stock her size g-tube so we go the other
hospital but what if they want to keep her so we go to hospital number one but
what if they want to ship her out in case this means abdominal surgery but
insurance is a pain so where would they ship right now oh god does this mean new
york city I'll sue if it they try to ship her where I won't go. Do we take the
stroller or the wheelchair? Where's our med list for her? Where the hell are my
clean pants?etc. etc. etc.")
But, thank the stars above for whatever celestial being is
tasked with dealing with folks like us, because in he midst of all this two
things struck me. One, I have a clean unused g-tube in the house. Don't even
ask how I managed to scrounge that one. (It involves a hospital stay and lack
of feeding adapters which just so happen come with a new tube.) And we both
thought to look for the rest of the old tube. Which we found. In her bed in
pieces. With little puppy teeth marks all over it. It had fallen out and been
found first by some other member of the family. So pop the new tube in... (That
takes all of about a minute) Crisis averted. Gather our wits. Catch our
breath. But now it's 7 am on a Sunday and I am oh so effing wide awake.
So, what I really want to know is this. In this sit-com of
endless wonder that seems to be the universe, when did we get picked for the
wacky neighbors role?
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