OK, This is a really long post--but I wanted to list the details of how my prayers were answered on a Friday night...before the objects in rearview mirror had disappeared.
Over a week ago, on a Friday night, I packed Nutmeg into the van and headed for the emergency room. J packed a bag with water and food for me, and plenty of cash for valet parking, etc.
Our ER doesn't have a parking lot, and it was pouring rain. It had been pouring all day: when I took all of the kids to the doctor's office, and when we all went to two different pharmacies.
Rain, rain, go away.Friday morning I made an appointment for Bud, who had complained Thursday night of an earache. And made appointments for Wombles and Nutmeg, too, seeing as how it was Friday and they were just as sick (minus the ear pain). They both had fairly serious colds.
(For non-parents, the "seeing as how it was Friday" means "if I didn't get them in on Friday and they got worse over the weekend, we'd have to go to the emergency room. Boo. Hiss.")
As you know from the beginning of this post, we ended up at the emergency room anyway: Nutmeg was having chest retractions, which were a sign of how hard she was working to breathe. It was pretty scary. On the way to the hospital, every time I heard her fuss I would think, "OK--she was breathing at 7:50." ...."OK, she was still breathing at 7:53." I couldn't see her while I was driving, and was afraid I'd get there and find her purple and
not breathing.
Also, it was still raining. As I drove down the hill from our house I was praying: for Nutmeg, sure, but mostly that I would make it to the hospital safely (
people around here have NO practice driving in the rain--it's like taking a Georgia girl and having her drive in ice and snow) and that the right people--doctors, nurses--would be on in the ER.
Talk about answered prayers.
I went straight to triage, where the people were SO nice and admired Nutmeg--and didn't freak out. Straight on to registration, where
no one asked me about money and the registrar knew my name without my giving it. We chatted about having the same pediatrician for our children.
I was in the waiting room for fifteen minutes when the nurse came to the door to bring me back...the nurse was Shauna...who is part of our church and eats dinner at our house every Wednesday night for home group (when she's not in the ER, that is).
Do you know what it's like to have your nurse say, "I saw her name and thought, Oh no! What's wrong?...I know her last name and birth date are correct--this
is how you spell Nutmeg, right?"
At every possible turn, I was a person and not a case, or number, or dollar.
The respiratory specialist commiserated with me over how scary the off-hours advice nurses can be--his wife had had a frightening experience with one of their children just two weeks ago.
I had to wait a little longer to see the doctor, as it was just coming on shift change.
Shift change. I know from Shauna (and my experience) that I ended up seeing a great doctor. And I also had a little insight into the benefit of being behind that
super-slow crawling they-must-be-lost or can they just not drive in the rain car all the way down the mountain--when I was scared my baby wasn't breathing.
She was breathing, though, and I ended up with a great ER doc who was totally fresh. And who stayed in the room and explained everything to me such that over the weekend, when things stayed scary, I had confidence for J and I to make choices about what was good for Nutmeg.
As everyone had suspected, Nutmeg had RSV. In her favor is the fact that although she wasn't yet two months old, she's easily the size of an average three-month-old...maybe a little bigger. Her size and strength were the difference in her needing to be admitted v. coming home. How much better to care for her in the comfort of our home!
It helped that Shauna told me she wasn't working the rest of the weekend. They live about a mile away, and she said she'd be happy to come over and take a look at Nutmeg if we grew more concerned.
When Meg and I were waiting to be discharged, the registrar/business office rep came by--we could pay now, but they would be glad to send us something in the mail--. There was zero pressure, and total acknowledgment that paying in the midst of the stress of a sick baby was not a top priority. I went ahead and paid, though, and my UGA credit card was recognized for what it was: "Wow! I think you're the second Georgia fan I know! (Not, "Oooh! Is that YOUR dog?!" which is what I always get). It seems small, but it was another personal touch. And I always appreciate anyone acknowledging that the oval G is not owned exclusively by Green Bay.
Nutmeg and I got home from the hospital almost exactly three hours from when we left. When does that happen on a rainy Friday night?
The other thing I was praying--perhaps praying most of all as I drove down the hill--is that I would have a firm trust in God's goodness. I don't even feel like I had to trust it--it was so patently obvious that it was hitting me "upside the head" at every single turn. With every person, in every interaction, with every slow-pokey car driving down the hill. We are so grateful.
We continued to have a scary few days with Nutmeg, considering whether we needed to take her back in. But Sunday evening one corner was turned, and then Thursday another, so that now she is quite well. Thanks be to God.
