So here's what I've been doing instead of blogging over the past ten days:
- Waiting in the aptly-named waiting room while my son has emergency surgery
- Dealing with 8,000 doctors and specialists, none of them nice and only one of them in any way accommodating. Apparently the golden standard in the medical industry for dealing with distraught, sleep-deprived mothers is dismissiveness and sarcasm. I am starting to suspect that there is an entire section of medical textbooks entitled Blaming the Caregiver: An Easy Out When Examination and Diagnosis is Too Time-Consuming.
- Contemplating how patients heal while being fed nutritionally void foods in an environment filled with toxic chemicals.
Yes, it has been an exciting two weeks. Remember that stomache flu roaring through the house? It ends up three kids had the flu and one had appendicitis. Appendicitis acts just like a stomache flu, so when I took my 12 year old into the ER with what I thought was dehydration, I was shocked when people started talking about CT scans and then emergency surgeries. An ER doctor was screaming at me: How long has your son been this sick? And if I wasn't speechless, I would have told him, not long at all. He was skateboarding on Monday, less than a day and a half before.
He didn't technically have appendicitis by the time I brought him to the hospital. It was then officially peritonitis caused by a ruptured appendix. There was a massive infection followed by respiratory problems from the anesthesia. I am so grateful to all of these doctors for saving my child's life, but would it really have killed them to be a little kinder? And to actually talk to each other before spouting off their theories? At one point, I had three different doctors in our hospital room at the same time, all saying contradictory things and not even registering what the other two were saying. I know they don't listen when I talk, but don't they listen to each other? These people are in charge of making decisions that may save someone's life (or remove it) and they don't know how to turn on their listening ears. Creepy.
The nurses, on the other hand, were angels. And considering that everyone has survived the experience, I'm going to chalk this up as one of those traumatic life experiences that I just have to learn from and then try to forget. And I will, once again, be blogging actively about my crazy little life here in Central Washington.