Something Out of a Horror Film

If you've read my post on HS's recent surgery to get his tonsils and adenoids out then you'll know two things: 0530 arrival and successful surgery. Well, in the spirit of that post, I write this one. Only without the element of happy go lucky that was in the last. Keep reading...the plot doesn't end like the end of a bad horror flick.

It is 0010 (12:10 midnight for my civilian readers) do you know where your darlin' is? For most, yours will be sleeping peacefully under comfy covers. Cue spooky music. Ours is shaking and gagging. He's crying out for mommy and daddy and when we enter the bathroom, he's huddled near the toilet coughing, sputtering, and vomiting blood. The culprit of this massive scare is not some insane maniac, but the battle wound of what used to be tonsils. Yes, chalk HS into the 3% of the population that when they have this surgery, they will have a "re bleed".

It was a flurry of adrenaline that jumped us into high gear as I carried him downstairs to the cat bus and HH dressed. HS was handed cold water to drink (the doctors had said that if he had a rebleed, have him drink cold ice water on the way to the ER...that would help stop the bleeding) and they were off to the ER in the cat bus. I raced inside to call a neighbor to come over and stay with LD. Within 5 minutes I was speeding to the hospital not long after the 1st departure. Thank God for kind neighbors!

Once at the ER, we went through the usual entry into any ER facility. State your case, speak to Triage, and then wait. Only HS's sinister scab-free incision had another plan.
"Mommy, I want to snuggle with daddy." he moans.
"Ok, darlin'...I'll get you to daddy's lap..." I reply.
"Uhhhh...mommy...my stomach is talking....I don't feel well..." he moans and then drops again to my shoulder, and curls into fetal position.

I stand and beginning taking him to the bathroom, but didn't make it before another scene out of a horror flick played out. HS vomited again blood and bile all over himself, my left side, and a trail followed us as I tried desperately to get him (and hopefully catch the helping hands of medical personnel) to a safe zone. The family bathroom was locked...I searched quickly for the women's restroom, gave up, and kicked the door to the men's restroom as I searched for the toilet for HS.

He stood on my feet (PJ bottoms, no shoes, and a shirt) and vomited again.
"Where in the world are the medics?!?" I wonder as I try to reassure HS that he is going to be OK and we'll see a doctor soon.
"Sh**! Where are they?" my mind races as I watch him turn pale white.
"Honey, mommy's going to get someone...hold me for a minute..."
My eyes hone in on a tiny sign by the toilet: Pull only in case of emergency.
Screw it...I've been having an emergency situation since my son started vomiting blood. I pull the magical cord that begins beeping and flashing a light.
"Is there someone in here?" I hear a voice.
"Yes!!!" I scream.
"Is it an emergency?" he replies as he peers around the corner into the stall.
"He's vomiting and is white as a sheet...YES!!! HELP ME!!!" I say with gritted teeth.
"Yes, ma'am. I'll be right back...we'll get him in now."
Thank God I sigh or somehow I would have had to figure out how to open a can of whoop a**.

It wasn't long before getting HS on the bed that they phoned the ENT docs. and the process of getting him into surgery was complete. They were fast. It was the getting through to the "wizard" that took the hardest. Once we were in the belly of the beast, we were good to go. HS's team of doctors couldn't have been better. They were caring, understanding, and what's more, I looked into their eyes and could see that they were clearly older than the Doogie Howser who had operated on him the 1st surgery. It was going to be OK I reassured myself as HH gave hugs, squeezes of the hand, and glances over at me as I tried to reassure HS.

This surgery evolution has not been what we had anticipated. In fact, far from it, but within six hours of arriving at Trippler, we were on our way home with a son that has once again proven that he has the strength of superman, the patience of Job, and the fight of Jet Li. He's recovering well (again) and is addicted to Chicken n' Stars. As far as I'm concerned, he can eat all the cans of his newest favorite soup. I'm just happy my family survived the horror and will pray that I don't have to see him suffer like that again.