Return of the Hives

You see that?  That red rash?  Its not a sunburn.  Its not poison anything.  Its hives. 

From his antibiotic to treat what wasn't Revenge of Ogre Ear but in fact was cellulitis.

I'd like to tell you a Tale of Two Emergency Departments.  The first was actually the very same hospital whose basement I sit in 30 hours per week. The other was in an alternate universe where treatment is fast, pediatric-centered and where all things taste like bubble gum and sweetarts.

I have insurance through my employer.  This is good.  Its good insurance, its affordable even.  The thing is, I have to use their ED (which is fine for me).  And so do my kiddos (which is not fine for them).  Even though they are not a pediatric hospital and do not employ staff who are specifically educated or trained in the pediatric field.  Unless the issue is "life threatening" or I am not in this area of the world, I need to come here.  And I did last week.  For seven hours.  In a box, with no movies, no crayons, no books, nothing.  Just a little boy with a very swollen ear, a Leapster with dying batteries and a miserable boyfriend.  For seven hours.

In that seven hours, we saw one nurse, one lab person who took blood (more on that later), one doctor and one very awesome CT Scan tech person.  Her name was Jennifer.  I could have kissed her for her kindness. (Shutup Aaron.) 

Upon entering My ED, I was greeted by two women in navy blue scrubs.  They were miserable.  Not a smile, not a hello.  Nothing.  And then we waited. 

I did the registration thing.  Waited.  Waited more.  Waited even more. 

Then I was led to Fast Track which is a glorified PCP office.  I was already at the PCP, but thanks.  Nurse came in, said words, left.  Wait, wait, wait.  An hour?  Two?  Doctor came in, declared it to be cellulitis without doing a single test or x-ray.  He never read JP's history or knew that he had mastoiditis and that I wasn't fricking moron.  I insisted on a CT Scan.  He left. 

We waited.  And waited.  Jennifer the Awesome came in, and made JP smile.  This won her many, many brownie points.  She was brilliant with him and made what could have been a difficult and/or scary test into something really fun.  And it broke up our seven hour day into two halves.

 Back to the box.  Enter Moron Bloodwork Lady who thought that taking blood from a five year old boy was exactly like taking it from a thrity-five year old boy.  That went well.  After the blood stopped spurting and JP stopped screaming, she went to the other arm and this time actually warned me so we could hold him down. Moron leaves, we wait. 

And wait.

 And wait. 

Now its really getting late in the day and little boy with swollen ear is hungry and miserable.  His parents are with him on this point.

Doctor comes back, hands me antibiotic prescription.  Cellulitis it is!  I was happily proven wrong, but this time with actual tests to prove me that way.  I was fine with that.  We leave and the story ends.

Enter the hives.  Sunday afternoon JP looks like he has Cheetah-envy and is covered in spots.  I try to convince myself that its a heat rash.  At 7pm, the rash is worse.  I call his PCP office, nurse says to get the Cheetah Boy into the ER immediately.  He was starting to cough and had spiked a fever.  I decide to brave my insurance rules and go to the Pediatric Emergency Room at Baystate Hospital. 

I walk in and am greeted by two women.  Same, but different.  These two women are nice to me.  In fact they usher us into triage immediately.  Two nurses do two things at the same time, JP is weighed, vitals are taken, level of care is assessed by using information rather than a once over by a disgruntled employee.  We are walked to the Pediatric ER and put in a room with video games, a tv, a wall of coloring books and the room itself is painted in beautiful colors.  There is even a ceiling tile with flowers and butterflies to look up at. 

Enter Kyle.  He is a Prince. Prince Kyle says, "Hi, I am not a figment of your imagination. I am here to grant you three wishes."*  The movie Cars appears on the tv.  I mention to Kyle that we had a rough experience the week before and that JP is pretty nervous and that he has an Autism Spectrum disorder.  Prince Kyle replies, "What are his triggers?"  When he picked me up off the floor, I kissed him on the lips.*  Prince Kyle closed the door and the curtains, he dimmed the lights and offered us a weighted blanket.  He waved his magic wand* and all was good and quiet and peaceful. 

Immediately upon his exit, Real Nurse entered.  She had beautiful wings that sparkled in the dimmed light of our room.*  She asked me questions, spoke to JP like he was a real human being and everything.  She left.  Ten minutes later a doctor came him.  He looked exactly like a hybrid between a biker and Hagrith from Harry Potter. 

"Hey James!!!  I'm Doctor John!"  He bellowed and smiled and he was kind.  He had a puppy in his pocket that licked my nose.*  After he was done asking JP a few things about race cars and his belly and his lungs, he talked to me.  He talked about antibiotics and the fact that JP was officially allergic to two of the most effective classes of antibiotics.  He determined Benadryl would help and he left.

Three minutes later, patient registration lady arrived.  She handed me a feather quill pen and I signed my name in purple glitter ink.*  Real Nurse came in too, she gave JP his meds.  Another doctor walked in as Real Nurse was leaving.  Spoke to JP while crouched down on the floor - looking right at my Slim Jim in the eye, and then he spoke to me and he left.  Harps were played and two guardian angels held the door open for us... we were discharged*.  Prince Kyle galloped into the room on his white unicorn* to say goodbye and to make sure JP got his shiny new race car stickers for being such a great boy.

I have a feeling that this visit will be denied by my insurance company.  I have a feeling that I will appeal that and that I will make some waves about the need for the employees at this establishment to have access to the very best pediatric care even if that means it isn't under this roof.  I have a feeling that it will be worth my time and that I will not be alone in it. 

*These things may not have actually happened.