911 - What is your emergency?

Before I say anything, I want to assure you that Megan is OK - thank God. Now for the story, which will leave no one doubting why this blog is named "My Stay-at-Home-Momma-DRAMA."


September 30 - #1 thing on my "to-do" list - buy Megan's leotard, tutu, and ballet shoes for dance class starting Thursday


Just my luck - the store nearby doesn't have her size - must continue on to several more stores searching . . . and searching . . . and searching


Oh gosh, look at the time (dinner time) - try keeping her under control with a snack - first snack I see on the shelves . . . Cheese-Its! (extremely UNUSUAL snack choice for us but I was desperate)


Text message from John - he's gonna be home late tonight - good thing 'cause I'm out shopping for tutus instead of home cooking dinner


Cool, John's gonna pick up some dinner for us on his way home - Megan will be fine waiting for dinner, she just ate half a box of Cheese-Its


Finally home - with two different combinations of tutus/leotards that still don't fit - kill some time by checking my email and coloring with Megan in my office


Megan - RIGHT NEXT TO ME COLORING - begins choking. What in the world is she choking on?


Choking- OK Lisa, you know what to do. There is still air moving - don't interfere. Find a phone - get help rolling FIRST. Where the heck is the phone? {frantic search} It was right in front of me. So much for all the training/experience I've had in emergency situations. None of them were MY BABY.

John walks in the door. Megan now has tears rolling down her cheeks and is gagging. I find a BINDER CLIP in Megan's hand, missing one of the metal prongs. {more panic}



The kind that look like this -

911, What is your emergency?


My daughter is two. She is choking on a metal binder clip.


Is she breathing?


Yes.


We'll get help to you, just hang in there.





By this point, Megan is no longer choking or gagging. The binder clip has apparently been swallowed.


I run outside to meet the medics in the driveway. Megan smiles at them like they are long lost friends, gives them a big wave, and yells "OH HI!"


My neighbor the fire chief arrives from around the corner. Just last night he presented his proposed fire budget to us on city council. So glad I didn't propose any cuts to it.


Don't I feel a little silly? A few moments ago she was crying and choking. Now she is smiling like nothing is wrong. Did she really swallow that? What if she spit it out somewhere? Oh my, it is sharp on the ends. Is it cutting her insides?


I don't care if I look silly - rush her to the hospital, I think that thing is in her throat. What if it is in her throat? John follows the ambulance.


Hospital ER - sent to trauma room (mommy panic - in my experience, healthy people usually don't end up in trauma rooms)


X-rays . . .





We're going to need to send her for more specialized care at Children's Hospital. The clip is not in her airway but it could compromise it if it moves. It could perforate her esophagus. An ambulance will take you there.


I need my mommy. I call her. So glad my sister is already here.


Terrifying ride (for me) to Children's Hospital. Megan keeps asking, "Are we going to Mexico?" (I have told her in the past that Mexico was really far away.)


Megan's first words out of the ambulance - "We're in Pah-lum-bus???????" How the heck did she know that? We don't live within the city of Columbus, nor do I ever remember really talking about it.


Questions at admission -


When was the last time she had anything to eat or drink? Umm, about 5. (It is now about 10:30 pm)


What did she eat? Cheese-Its.

She ate Cheese-Its for dinner? No, you moron, she had Cheese-Its as a snack. SHE ATE A BINDER CLIP FOR DINNER! Try to keep up here.

(Didn't really say exactly that but I secretly wanted to.)


Next, a ten-year old surgeon tells me he needs to operate on Megan to remove the clip.

How many years have you been a doctor?


Answer: 3


WRONG ANSWER! Next surgeon, please.


My mom looks at me funny. "I watch Grey's Anatomy," I tell her. I know what can happen. That's my baby and I'm not playing around. Get me the best - get me McDreamy.


My mom looks up and says, "MS. McDreamy is headed our way."


How long have you been a doctor Ms. McDreamy?


Longer than he has (pointing to the ten year old.)


WRONG AGAIN. Get me the head of surgery please.


He has been a doctor longer than the two of them have been alive.

Finally the correct answer.

Yes, you may operate on my precious daughter whose existence constitutes my ENTIRE WORLD. Please take good care of her. {crying}


Meanwhile, Megan acts like nothing is wrong - like a piece of METAL is not crammed in her esophagus.

She says, "I'm having so much fun" while sitting in this chair. Seriously.

"There is a piece of metal in my throat and all you can do is take a picture with your cell phone? What the heck is the matter with you people?"

Disclaimer: I did NOT take this photo. I was still crying.

Off to surgery

Object removed - no complications - no damage done - prayers answered

Up all night with Megan after surgery. She seemed uncomfortable from the tubes they put in her nose to intubate her. She had a swollen lip from the instruments they placed down her throat. My poor baby. I would have traded places with her if I could have.

By the morning, she was up and at 'em (just as I was about to pass out from sleep deprivation.) Here she is watching TV.

By 10:30 am, she hadn't eaten anything but cheese-its and binder clips in quite a while. She was begging, pleading for food. I went into the hallway to ask the nurses if she could be allowed to eat. I kept telling her, "Megan, we have to wait for the doctors to tell us it is ok to eat."

Megan attempted to walk to the hallway but was stopped a few feet short by her IV cord, which wasn't long enough. She yelled from where she was, "Doctors! Please have some crackers?" How pathetic.

She was finally allowed food. She drew a crowd of hospital workers in her room, marveling at her unbelievable CUTENESS.

Her sweet nurse came in to remove her IV FINALLY and she was discharged at about 1 pm.

We finally came home, but without the t-shirt that could have said,

I ate a binder clip for dinner and all they could do is cry, take my stupid picture, and save the clip like I ever really want to see it again!

She actually got 2 stuffed animals - one from each ambulance ride - and a wonderful blanket from the Linus Project. (This was such a wonderful thing - definitely going to send some donation money their way for the thoughtfulness.)

All humor aside, it was the most terrifying event of my life and I am still thanking God she is ok. When you talk to Him, please thank Him yourself as well.