Before Allie’s birthday party began yesterday, she was feeling slightly under the weather. It wasn’t the sort of under the weather you would halt a party for, but it seemed more like the beginnings of another illness.
So the party began. Guests were eating, children were playing, 80’s Lady was outside chain smoking Marlboro Reds, and the table was covered with gifts (*cough* *snort* *cough*).
Then, I noticed that Allie had decided to sit down on the couch. This is the part where I tell you that Allie NEVER sits; particularly, when in the company of masses of rambunctious children. She is all about running around like that she has a 24 hour caffeine IV stuck in her arm.
So I approached Allie to see why she was sitting, because natural phenomenons such as this should be asked about. My questions were answered with,
*grunt*
” I can’t breeve right now. It hurts so bad.”
*more grunting to breathe*
We sat for a while, because I was under the seemingly false impression that perhaps her slight illness was aggravated by all of the running and playing, and probably, she just needed to rest for a while. So she rested. But after a while, she was still only going downhill-rapidly.So the pediatrician was called, and he insisted she be taken to the ER.
And off we went. The trip to hell adventure began.
Thankfully, our doctor had called the ER, and we were ushered to the back as soon as we got there. I was very grateful, because I doubt Allie would have appreciated being whisked off from her third birthday party to hang out with the six crackheads sitting in the white walled/tiled waiting room that stunk of hospital, and held silence filled with the consistent hum of the vending machines.
When Allie awoke from her sick-nap, she looked up at me and wimpered, “where–are–we? are we lost?? where’s my party?” followed by more grunting to breathe.
She cried for a while, and I cried for a while. Because hey, who wants to be at the hospital on their birthday? Let alone their third birthday? And hearing her whimper in between grunts about how she wanted a piece of birthday cake was terribly sad.
As a favor to you, I won’t go into detail about encountering the national winner of the world’s most hostile nurse award, the blood drawing, or convincing a three year old that sometimes peeing in a cup is totally logical.
“come on allie, just pee in the cup.”
“you can’t pee in a cup! you have to pee in the toilet bowl!!”
“please, just pee in the cup.”
“NO! YOU ARE NOT APPOSED TO!” (apposed=supposed.)
I couldn’t argue with her, because we both knew that she was right, though she did eventually pee in the cup. I can’t remember how expensive my bribing techniques became, but I’m not above bribery when healthy is involved.
After a few breathing treatments and a bundle of prescriptions, we were dismissed.
Then, what should have been a glorious release was marred a bit after Adam went to get the car, and it refused to start. Someone who is not familiar with driving my car, I won’t mention Adam’s name, had accidentally turned the lights off of the automatic setting and onto a setting that I will call ‘on constantly’ since I have no idea what it’s real name is.Anyway, blame placement was not the problem here, but the additional time at the hospital on Allie’s third birthday was.
I don’t have a nice ending to tie this all together, because I am still tired. But know that we did eventually make it home, where we all crawled into bed and called it a night.
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