First of all some observations:
When we arrived, Luke was still strapped in his carseat on the stretcher. This picture was taken before we left St. Luke's - the fear had not set in.
Once we drove downtown, he was petrified and there was water pouring out of his eyes, nose and mouth. Our nurse (the same one I later caught sleeping) came to orient us to the unit and introduce herself to Luke. She walks up to Luke, and with a fairly thick accent raises her pointer finger and slowly shakes it at him, saying "don't worry baby, no pokey pokey, no boo-boo, no no no" Of course, Luke promptly bursts into tears. Really? Hey, pediatric nurse, DON'T SHAKE YOUR FINGER AT A TODDLER SAYING NO NO NO. It's bad form.
That next evening they brought Luke's meal tray. The toddler meal was Salisbury steak, box mashed potatoes, canned green beans all swimming in gravy. Really? Hey, nutritional services, MOST TODDLERS DON'T WANT THEIR FOOD SWIMMING IN ANYTHING.
I like teaching hospitals - when I see them from the curb. When I (or one of my children is receiving treatment in them), I am less of a fan. First of all, on TV, the virtual caste system of experienced doctors, medical students & residents is made obvious by both the casting director and wardrobe. The newbies are barely shaving, they always look tired, their white coats are short and wrinkled they can't find their pens and when they do they don't work. They say "um" and "well" a lot, and they are followed around by a crotchety, experienced, well-coiffed "Attending" who is perpetually embarrassing them with the Socratic method of teaching. In the real world, the difference is not so easy to discern. Wednesday morning, anxiously awaiting the ENT's results, in breezed a "doctor" with her own monogrammed scrub cap, a white coat, enough pagers to make me wonder if she was not only a surgeon but a diplomat as well. I surmised that she was probably an over-achieving, top of her class, last year fellow - who runs marathons and advocates for under-represented not-for-profit organizations in her spare time. She was holding papers in her hands and handed them to me with a putt-putt pencil and said circle the items you are interested in and leave it on your door when you are finished. So, I am thinking - what am I circling. Am I going to need to call Billy to have him help me make decisions? Did they decide Luke did need surgery and I am choosing the type of procedure we would like to have performed? (yes , Karen - it's Choose Your Own Adventure, Hospital Edition).
It was a menu, she worked for food services, I was ready to place my child's future in her hands. I chose mac n' cheese, and apple, and whole milk instead. I'm not saying that there should be a dress-code hierarchy, where you can't wear a white coat or a scrub cap but multiple pagers? HOW MANY FOOD EMERGENCIES CAN THERE BE AT ANY GIVEN MOMENT?
Shortly thereafter an extremely tall, dad-ish man came in to our room, dressed in a suit with a clipboard and a bluetooth. Was this the CFO? Not it was the surgeon - he gave us some good news. Luke's abscess was small enough that it did not need to be drained in surgery. (collective sigh of relief). They would stick with aggressive IV antibiotic therapy, as well as some steroids and pain control. Luke was playing basketball at the time, and the surgeon said - "you are not sick enough for my OR." It sounded scripted, and I loved it.
An hour or two later, the intern came in and told us that since Luke's clinical presentation is how they will measure his improvement, they would need to see him be able to completely extend his neck before they send him home. She then examined him and said we should plan on staying, but they would round on us later as a formality.
In came the doctors (and interns and fellows and med students). Luke was playing basketball (shocking, I know) and the attending physician told us they were changing the diagnosis to retropharyngeal phlegmon (gross) which is an overly-clinical term for an abscess that isn't big enough to drain yet, and more or less they just wanted to play with him and see how he was coming along. He explained that the intern had informed him of Luke's status but he just wanted to get a feel for his improvement. So they told Luke to throw the ball up! (a favorite game) At which point, he THREW his head back and launched the ball for the ceiling. The place erupted in clapping, and the attending did a knee lift, double fist pump out of excitement. Luke assumed that this clapping was in adulation if his demonstration, so he immediately began to put on a show. There was some stomping, some running in place, a few shrieks and we were told "the hospital is for sick people - you need to go home" WHO IS DOING THE WRITING FOR THESE PEOPLE - They're amazing.
We called daddy and told him our surprise, we packed up our bags and headed "ei-yah" (outside) for the first time in 3 days. It was beautiful outside. I'm not sure what the weather was like, but the air was the freshest.
We were told to stick with the antibiotics, the steroids and OTC pain control and to follow up with our pedi. In the days since we have been home, Luke has had some of his pain come back - which I am assuming is because we are taking Motrin instead of Toradol, which is like eating PBJ instead of a Santa Fe chicken and Monterrey jack cheese with avocado ranch dressing on foccacia bread. But, none-the-less, we are seeing progress. Giving the antibiotic is like scraping dried mortar of bricks. Luke is not a fan - he can't be blamed, it smells like rotten eggs and settles in the syringe after like 11 seconds.
Thanks to all for the love and support and encouragement. Being surrounded by friends and family who came out of the woodwork without being asked was both comforting and humbling.
A few pictures of the patient!
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