My Saturday started like any other. I slept in a bit, then went downstairs when Atticus woke up. There were a couple kids already awake and Leyton told me that his belly hurt. It wasn't a comment said while in pain, nor did he look or act all that uncomfortable. He asked for a Tums and was given one.
A couple hours later, he mentioned it again, though, again, he didn't appear to be acting abnormally. Leyton is kind of a tough kid in that he doesn't often need comforting. That afternoon, I took him and Amity to the grocery store while Valerie and Atticus took a nap. We weren't shopping long when he began to whimper about his belly. I let him ride in the cart, but it wasn't long until he began sobbing in pain. The decision was made right then and there to leave the store and go straight to Ambulatory Care.
The care we got there was... disappointing, but no where near the worst experience of the day. The first thing the urgent care doctor said when she finally came into the room was "why would you bring him here instead of the ER with his history?" (side note: Leyton was born with gastroschisis - intestines outside of his body- which is the history she spoke about) There was no "history" as far as I was concerned. In his nearly five years, there has been zero digestive issues of any kind since he was 24 days old. She agreed to do an xray, but seemed almost determined that it would show nothing.
It showed something. It showed what she thought might be an abnormality. So off to St. Ritas we went.
The Ambulatory Care folks called ahead for us and gave me a form to give to the ER. This form would tell St. Ritas all they would need to know and expedite the process. Or so we were told.
Instead, we arrived at the ER with only two others in the waiting room. Those folks were called back while Kendra A. stumbled and fumbled her way through trying to figure out how to handle a transfer patient. There was a lot of phone calls and "how you do that? where do the 'e' go?" Finally she told us to have a seat. There was no one else in the waiting room. No one. At one point in the 15 or so minutes we waiting, a lady came out and called for another patient, who wasn't there, then retreated. Meanwhile, another hospital employee came up to chat with Kendra A. Leyton, by this point, began having bouts of pain so sever that he would cry loudly for a couple minutes. Almost like contractions, these would attack every 5-7 minutes.
My wife doesn't like when I get impatient in public. I tend to get rude. I got rude with Kendra A. and asked when Leyton might get seen, since, you know, this is an actual emergency and he was sent here by another physician. She disappeared into the beck only to return and say "he's next." Well no shit, he's next; there is no one else in the waiting room.
We get into the triage area and they can't figure out how much Leyton weighs - you know, important stuff since he'd already been weighed and he's here on referral for an actual emergency unlike the bulk of those who hang out at St. Ritas every time they get an STD or a hangnail. One woman had the balls to ask if Leyton had a tummy ache when he was mid-attack. That's when Valerie, who never ever says what's on her mind, asked if maybe they hadn't gotten the memo. The other guy then hurried off to find out what we were talking about. Soon, though not soon enough, we were moved to a room.
From there it was testing and lots of it. Leyton had a CT scan and the CT tech kept trying to reassure him during his screaming fits, which are now almost constant, that things would be okay and that his mommy's right there. Finally, I broke the news to her that Leyton isn't scared, but he is in a great deal of pain, so her soothing words are doing no good to anyone.
Another near hour passed and while nurses went in and out of his room, Leyton never saw a doctor. By this point he had been at St. Rita's for over three hours without a doctor ever glancing at him at all. I was getting as loud as Leyton was - his pain and loud crying constant. Some asshole nurse even came and shut his door at one point. I guess he was bothering her. I opened that back up.
I didn't like being the asshole parent, but it sure felt like we were the only three people in that hospital that gave a shit what was happening with Leyton. Finally, my fit-throwing drew the attention of a CNP and eventually a doctor. Finally, they gave him some morphine. The first dose did nothing. The second dose and also some other stuff helped to ease the pain.
They wanted another CT, this one with contrast, and they said we had a twisting of the bowel. That means surgery. The doctor said he'd talk to the surgeon and see if he was comfortable working on a child of this age. If not, I was told, they'd talk to Columbus. I said then let's just go to Columbus.
So the CT was done, including barium enema and it was decided that instead of ambulance ride, Leyton was taking a helicopter (per request of Children's Hospital). Two hours later, Valerie and I arrived in Columbus. Leyton had been there in a half an hour.
The folks at Children's are a different breed, I think. The care is night and day. From the moment we walked in to find four nurses surrounding Leyton, keeping him company, I knew this was the only place we should be. There was constant updates given and while we did have to endure another xray and another CT (St. Ritas sent the same CT twice instead of sending both of those they did - thanks again for that one) we moved quickly and before long, Leyton was being prepped for surgery. The last CT we had included no fewer than four doctors and two nurses in the room. From there it was a matter of getting the surgeon out of bed at 3 am to make it happen. At just after 4 am, we met with Dr. King (described by the anesthesia guy as a great surgeon but not very friendly). He has matter-of-fact, but otherwise okay. I'd rather have a great surgeon than a helluva nice guy cutting open my son. Later, I saw his name on the wall of fame at Children's - he's a good one.
Finally, Valerie and I got some rest, although short. We crashed out in the waiting room for about an hour. Dr. King came in and told us all was well. They were able to fix the twist with no loss of bowel. It was the best possible news. Additionally, they removed his appendix and moved his belly button over a bit to make it more centered.
Apart from the struggles of the security guy to create our access, all else was good and soon Valerie and I were able to take a nap along side Leyton in his room.
As I write this, Leyton is resting pretty comfortably. He's learned to work the remote, but also has cleared some hurdles and he's been up walking around and generally getting better. He's gonna be here for at least five more days, which sucks since Valerie and I both have to work, but thankfully Rob and Beth are once again there for us, watching the other kids and taking time off work to help. They are awesome people and are constantly giving of themselves.
I sucks being so far from home, but I know given the "care" he got in Lima, that this is the only place we should be with Leyton. These people, this place, they're different - no question about it. Get well soon, Buddy.
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