...needles, that is
We had a lesson in phlebotomy recently...
Nothing to worry about, just a routine check up, but Kimberly's first experience with any type of lab work. I must say, she was a champ! On the way home we discussed how everything works, from needles to tubes, from alcohol wipes to veins.
And it reminded me of this not-so-lovely day 4 and 1/2 years ago...
It all started with a UT infection at 5 and 1/2 months old. Lindsay couldn't keep the antibiotic down, and a visit to the doctor resulted in an emergency room visit.
And then an ambulance ride.
And three nights accommodation in the children's ward of French Hospital for both of us.
Describing the event to my children was like walking down the sterile, dingy halls of the third floor, pushing open the door to the dim, cramped children's ward, and feeling the lump in my throat as the doctor announced, "We need to change her IV."
My mind had been whirling since the ER doctor first asked for Lindsay's car seat and promptly strapped her, and it, onto a stretcher and wheeled her to a waiting ambulance. As we were whisked off into the night, my heart ached with the knowledge that I was unexpectedly leaving Kimberly behind with only a hug and a kiss. I continued the prayer I had started earlier in the day.
Well past her bedtime when we arrived, Lindsay was in hysterics, and the nurses proceeded to undress her in that cold, heartless room. And poke her. And take her temperature. And splint her arm so she wouldn't yank out the IV. I put her to sleep in a "crib" that was just about as welcoming as a cage at the zoo.
I slept in my clothes that night.
The next day we woke to more tests and feeding issues to deal with. Of course there was also waiting, and a hurting, unhappy baby. Some lovely folks came by to visit, and a friend brought me iced coffee. I'm not quite sure why she thought I needed it?!? Then the blood draw. Three nurses and myself couldn't keep Lindsay still enough to get the needle in. One itsy-bitsy butterfly needle turned into five or six as they repeatedly missed her vein. My whole being shivered and cringed at her screams. Tears threatened and I will never forget it. Or the paci-shaped sucker that finally made her calm enough to relax. Thank goodness for sugar... and prayer.
Some tests were scheduled for the following day, so we settled in for another wait. Kimberly came to visit, and we played with Little People at a small table by the window. She told me today that she remembers playing with me, and then begging me to play some more when I needed to go check on Lindsay. "I was missing your attention," she said. "You were all paying so much attention to Lindsay." My heart hurt all over again.
That evening, with the baby in bed, we squeezed two chairs into our little cubicle behind the curtain for my parents, and I sat on the bed, knowing we had two more nights in the hospital. Without warning, I knew I needed to throw up. Gross, yeah. I had the full-blown stomach virus. In my mind I can still clearly see the yellow sign posted in front of my bed while the janitor cleaned up the floor. Caution: Contaminated Area. I sort of felt like a roach. On second thought, maybe that was just part of the "bug"...
There were 37 steps from my bed to the bathroom past the nurses station. I know because I visited it six times that night.
I felt better by the first morning light, and we made it through the last day with flying colors, though I chaffed to be home with my daughters, wished for a daily shower, and prayed that the tests would come back clear. They did. And we went home.
Looking back, I remember being worried about Lindsay, the emotions of seeing a child in pain, the fear of the unknown. But trumping those feelings is the reality of never feeling alone. My Savior was right beside me the whole time. Especially when I thought things couldn't get worse, and they did! All the love and support shown to us in our time of need was His provision for us. God truly uses people in amazing ways.
Even the janitor...
