Emergency Room

It doesn’t take much blood at all to send a four year-old’s mother and grandmother into paroxysms.  Everything seemed to be going so well.  Gabe was home, otologically enhanced and adenoidally free, playing video games with Tia.  Something happened.  Accounts vary, but what ensued was profuse bleeding from Little Big Man’s nose and mouth.  Mother and Grandmother were unable to stanch the flow (imagine the scene and the decibel level).  A call to the offending surgeon’s office produced a trip to the emergency room, during which trip LBM began convulsing, flailing, kicking his mother in the throat.

 

It doesn’t take much in the way of a report of blood and convulsions coupled with a tearful request for an ad hoc ER meeting to rouse a grampa to frenzy.  I jumped into the roadster, utilized all of its capabilities in most of its gears and arrived at the hospital, let’s say, post haste.  LBM so brave, wouldn’t complain, still saying he was ok to any green frocked questioner.  A glance at aforementioned mother/grandmother team dissuades.  (How many times do they have to stick needles into different places on the boy?  Look lady, he whimpers, you die!) Off to his second surgery of the day.  45 minutes later, he’s back, sleeping fitfully.  Two hours later, he’s home.  Slept all night, tired, sore, but not leaking blood from anywhere today.  Updates as they become available.