Disclaimer: everything's fine
A while back, Mal convinced us to buy him a set of multi-colored Buckyballs. They're little spherical magnets that you can use to create all kinds of cool shapes. I used to work with a guy who had played with his so much that they'd started to fall apart into powder.
At least for a while, they were illegal in the US, because, supposedly, kids were swallowing them and getting really sick. Mythbusters did an episode about this. And, yeah, it turns out that swallowing a pair of magnets can really do some nasty damage to your intestines. (No, I can't find a reference to this episode).
I had a set when Laura and I first got together. I haven't seen them in a long time. I suspect that I got rid of them when Mal was born, for that reason.
The decision to get him a set seemed reasonable. This kid is terrified of almost everything. We have emphasized to him that keeping him safe is our number one responsibility. We've never played any of those "tricks" that some parents pull (I'll never forget Khrys telling Chelsea to try a "baby pumpkin" aka habenero), and he still doesn't trust us.
He's terrified of anything new. Or anything he hasn't tried recently. If we let him go too long between eating his favorite foods, he'll refuse to eat them. Yesterday (well, the day before, now), he pitched a fit about going swimming. Mostly because it's been so long. Laura basically forced him (which we almost never do). After he'd been in the pool for a while, he admitted that "Okay, you were right. This
is fun."
His idea of adventure is climbing up on the cabinets and then jumping.
So he's a super-cautious kid who just does not take risks. There are times I get frustrated with that. I vividly remember being scared of the dark, and roller coasters, and heights still freak me out. But I decided long ago to quit making decisions based on fear.
I think he's a lot more cowardly (and I do not mean that in a bad way...it's just the most fitting term I can think of) than I ever was.
We have repeatedly emphasized that putting these magnets into his body, in any way, shape, or form, is a terrible idea. And that you never, ever, put anything (except your finger, of course) up your nose. And nothing in your ear.
Once, when he was much younger, he put a decorative candy silver ball up his nose. That came out quickly enough. We thought he'd learned his lesson, but he claims he's forgotten. I'm sure that's a lie, because this kid never forgets
anything.
Now that you have that background:
Today, while I was wrapping up work, he told Laura that he thought that, maybe, just possibly, one of those magnets had gone up his nose. He wasn't sure how such a thing could have happened, but he wanted her to know.
She wasn't as worried about it as I. Somewhere like 2 years old, her older kid did the same thing (although with a bigger magnet). It came out by itself a few hours later.
I had all sorts of visions of it getting sucked into his lungs instead. While I was trying to figure out who we could call, Laura called the hospital where his primary physician works. Supposedly, they have an after-hours non-emergency section that's open 24/7. She eventually managed to contact a nurse, who recommended we bring him on in, just because it's a magnet.
Mal argued the point. He was sure it would all be fine. I told him that this could kill him. His reaction was "But I thought it took two of them!"
Laura got a little frantic at this point. She was wearing something like gym shorts and a tank top and felt like she needed to "get dressed" before she could go. I was in a position where I was done with work and could take him, which is rare. So I insisted that it was my turn (it really was: I think this is a first).
We scrambled a bit. Laura produced his mask. I grabbed my glasses, shoes, wallet, and water bottle. She got him dressed. I also grabbed his iPad, on the theory that you always spend a long time waiting at the ER. We rushed out the door, over his objections.
We got about a block before I realized that I'd left his mask behind.
I basically did a bootlegger's reverse and rushed back to our driveway. She was waiting on the porch with his mask.
Then we rushed away again.
At first, he babbled about his terror. He wanted to know where we were going. When I told him, he couldn't remember any of it. He told me that the best things that could happen in his life were red lights.
He kept getting more and more worked up, until we actually got to the outskirts of the city next door. I tried to tell him that this is where it starts, but he was unconscious.
At that point, I panicked a bit. Was he breathing? Should I pull over and do CPR? Call for an ambulance? This car his a mirror that lets us see what's going on in the back seat. I probably endangered our lives (along with most of the people around us) by staring at that more than the road, trying to see if his chest was moving.
It was.
I finally calmed down (a bit) when I could see that movement. We were still about a mile or so away.
Still, he was
out when we arrived. Laura's theory is that he just collapsed from the stress.
I basically peeled him out of his car seat and carried him in. I didn't run, but I did rush. He woke up and was able to stand when I needed to pull things out of my wallet to get checked in. Later, he agreed with Laura that I'm much nicer than she: she would have just made him wake up and walk on his own.
The receptionists (and probably everyone else) were going through a shift change when we arrived. So we had to wait a bit to check in. Which worked out fine, because Mal needed to pee.
To me, this ER was amazing. I don't think I've ever seen another with an empty waiting room.
They asked about fever. I shrugged and told them that he felt a little hot to me, but what do I know?
They made a point of checking both our temperatures. They seemed a bit dismayed that we hadn't been screened for COVID recently, but relaxed when I told them that he's the only member of our family who isn't fully vaccinated. The thermometer is some sort of infrared scanner that looks like something a cashier would use at a supermarket. Mal and I agreed that we wish we had one.
While we were discussing the entire thing, he mentioned that he vaguely suspected that it might possibly have been his left nostril. Since he's left-handed.
After the initial intake was done, he and I discussed left vs. right handedness. And the fact that both his parents are also left-handed.
After we got checked in, Mal got fascinated by the TV.
I hadn't finished the intake paperwork when the nurse showed up. Because of COVID, I asked whether I was allowed to tag along. The nurse looked a little panicked at the thought. "He's a minor. You're required to accompany him."
When I told Laura that part of the story, she giggled. "What if you'd told them you didn't want to?"
This is Mal. He was nearly petrified with terror about the entire situation. Of *course* I was going along! Even if Texas had sane COVID protocols that had forbidden it.
He managed the basic height/weight checks without any problems. The last time I went to the doctor with him (for his teeth capping), this part completely overwhelmed him. He's around 4'1" and 58 pounds.
They double-checked my relationship.
Then we did more basic vital signs intake. The nurse asked about Mal's fever. I repeated that he felt a little extra warm to me, but that they'd taken his temperature when we walked in.
He was within whatever zone they consider acceptable/normal.
Then the nurse went through a standard battery of questions for Mal. Did he hurt? Was he having problems with his sense of taste/smell? Was he bleeding? Was he having trouble breathing?
He managed to get Mal's pulse-ox without much fuss. Which impressed me. The last time, Mal was freaked out enough about the entire process that he was still scared it would hurt this time.
The nurse promised that, this time, it wouldn't hurt. And Mal believed that promise enough to put the sensor on his own finger. When that didn't hurt, he trusted the nurse enough to move it enough to actually collect data.
I thought the worst part was next, when they checked his blood pressure. I'm sure it was through the roof because he was so terrified. He screamed about how much it hurt the entire time.
The nurse was freaking awesome here. He talked Mal through the entire process. He warned when it was going to squeeze, and then promised that it would go quicker/easier if Mal didn't squirm.
Mal did holler a bit about the pain, but then he stopped when the nurse told him that it was stepping down. That process, with each little incremental step, is the sort of thing that Mal loves.
And then the nurse asked to look up his nose.
That was a big "nope."
The nurse decided to bargain. He wouldn't, but Mal would let the doctor. The nurse even showed Mal the light/magnifier thing the doctor would use.
Mal agreed.
I was too distracted by paperwork to warn the nurse that Mal's a dirty, rotten liar about this sort of thing.
The nurse noted that Mal's usual physician is Dr. Corpus, who wasn't currently available. But Mal should be super-excited, because Dr. Brown is! And Dr. Brown is a super-nice doctor!
I almost made a snide remark about all the other really mean doctors, but I don't want to make Mal any more jaded.
Internally, I wondered about a terrible world where someone with brown skin would get the last name "Brown." I dismissed that notion as ridiculous.
There was a TV in the room. The nurse turned it to Nick before he left.
This cheered Mal up a lot. He had a lot of fun telling me about all the commercials he'd already seen while I skimmed through all the legalese in that intake paperwork.
There's a lot of that here. There's a bunch of stuff about what they're allowed to share, under HIPAA, and a bunch more about the basic fact that you're required to pay them.
I'm sure there were a lot more details. If I'd been the patient, I'd have read the entire packet a lot more carefully. But we've been using this hospital for the past several years, and I trust them. So I was really just trying to make sure I understood the basic gist before I signed everything.
Around this time, Laura pinged me to ask what was up. She'd started to take a shower, then realized she hadn't watered the plants. I told her to relax until we knew more.
Laura sent me several messages through this entire process. She wanted to make sure her child was OK!
Between the paperwork, the actual exam, and everything else, I barely managed to fend her off. I tried to convince her to just relax until/unless we actually needed her.
I was still working through that paperwork when Dr. Brown showed up.
When I saw him, my immediate reaction was sorrow about everything that I know he's been through, because his skin is, in fact, dark brown.
I'm still trying to work my way through the injustice of that and of everything I know he's lived through (plus so much more that I can't even imagine).
But that wasn't the point today.
Today was about a magnet in Mal's nose.
Mal refused to move to the exam table. So Dr. Brown stretched the light/magnifier thing over to the chair where Mal was planted.
Mal was terrified about the bright light. He'd worried earlier about not having sunglasses, like he got at the dentist. I asked him if he thought we had his sunglasses in the car, but he was more interested in problems than solutions.
When we got to this point, I covered his eyes with my hands. It calmed him down enough for Dr. Brown to get a quick look.
Dr. Brown suggested that he might be able to get Mal to blow the magnet out of his nose himself. Mal told him that we'd already tried that several times. I told Mal that the doctor might possibly know techniques we didn't, which got a "Yep" nod.
There wasn't anything obvious.
Over his protests, I carried Mal to the exam table. Dr. Brown got a better view, but still couldn't see anything. He ordered a speculum.
Mal tried really hard to convince us that he just really needed to lay on his side now (facing directly away from Dr. Brown). He needed some free time. Maybe they could come back in a couple of hours.
I felt bad about disillusioning him.
Once the speculum arrived, we wrestled.
Mal informed us that he's probably the strongest person we know. The nurse and I pinned him (and his arms, especially) into place while Dr. Brown looked. And didn't see anything.
I think this is about when Laura sent me a message that mirrored my skepticism about the entire situation. She couldn't find any of those magnets on the floor. They naturally seek each other out, which is why they're so dangerous if they get inside your body.
But...these are tiny little things. Somewhere in the vicinity of sesame seeds. How do you stick something like that up your nose?
While this was going on, Mal informed me that the only thing that can make him happy is going to one of those soft indoor play areas where everything is padded.
Anyway. Dr Brown
still couldn't see anything. So he ordered an x-ray.
Which, again, plumb freaked Mal out.
The x-ray tech lead us to that section of the building.
Mal had already noticed this part, because the CAT scan is front and center. It's a scary looking device. Honestly, I think that promising him he wouldn't have to get into that probably made the rest of this easier on him.
Not that the X-Ray was easy, by any stretch.
I promised him that it was just like getting his picture taken. No big deal!
The room was really dark. It has some LCD screens of some blue, slightly cloudy skies. Mal told the tech that it would help him a lot if those screens were realistic, or even real windows. But they aren't. Because our sky is basically orange right now.
The tech turned on all the lights so Mal could see the entire room.
Mal was really brave, and he followed the instructions to just press his forehead and nose to the plate and wait for a bit.
We promised him that it's just like getting your picture taken. That doesn't hurt, does it? He protested that he needs a good day where no one ever takes his picture. I promised him that we'll do that tomorrow. (When I discussed this later with Laura, she agreed...provided that he doesn't stick anything else up his nose).
I wasn't sure about where I should go to stay away from the radiation. The last time I'd been involved with x-rays was for my knee, and it was still worrisome enough that they made sure to drape the rest of me in lead blankets.
The tech assured me that I'd be fine, 8 feet (or so) back.
Then he started the shot, and Mal flinched and covered his ears because the noise was too much.
I'd forgotten that they buzz.
We got lucky. The shot was fine.
We thought we were done. Actually, I'd promised Mal that this was it.
But the tech made a liar out of me.
They needed another shot, this one a profile.
While the tech was setting it all up, Mal asked about all the markings on the plate. I told him that those are all different details they can use to make sure that everything is lined up correctly.
As much as I admire Calvin's father from the comics, I don't want to ever BS my kids. I'm pretty sure that's what those markings are for.
This time, the tech requested that I hold Mal in place. Keeping his fingers off his ears was a major issue. Keeping him from flinching was important, also. But, seriously, fingers over ears would really obscure the images.
I was a little nervous about the radiation exposure level. Not enough that I would have refused (I've had lots of training about this from the Navy, so I've never been worried about a few random exposures like this...it's the long-term day-after-day exposure that we didn't really know anything about, back then), but I expected at least a lead apron sort of thing.
He assured me that it's down to about the levels of a hot sunny day outside.
I don't have any idea what that amounts to in mRems, but that amazed me. I love living in the future!
I thought we were done then.
But we had to go back to our room and wait.
It was worse for Mal.
But he managed to lose himself in the cartoon that was playing on Nick.
To be fair, so did I.
Dr. Brown showed up shortly to tell us that he couldn't find anything on the x-ray. He offered to show us.
Mal wasn't interested.
I trusted him completely, but why would any responsible parent pass up a chance to look at their kid's skull?
He pointed out Mal's nasal cavities. And the caps and fillings in his teeth. And that, if there were anything as dense as a magnet inside there, it would show up like a bright white spot.
He seemed almost apologetic to me.
I told him that I'm
thrilled there wasn't anything.
On the way home, Mal sang to me.
We stopped at a gas station to get him a treat. He chose a Kit Kat.
Laura was outside on the porch waiting for us. Have I ever mentioned that she's a great mom?
She read through the follow-up paperwork a lot more closely than I did. If they were wrong, and he sucks it down into his lungs and starts wheezing or coughing or having trouble breathing, then get him back to the ER!
At this point, I'm convinced that he imagined the entire thing. Laura grilled him pretty hard about how he could possibly think that it "accidentally" happened. He told us that it teleported from his hand (down at the table) into his nostril.
I don't think I've ever been this angry at him before. I want to beat him for making up a story like this. Hopefully the natural consequences of going to the ER (and the lesson that it wasn't *that* bad) convince him to never, ever make up this sort of lie ever again.
On the other hand, I hope this is also a life lesson that we
*will take care of him for as long as we can, and that, really, doctors aren't awful.
And also, after it was all over, he put together a "story" which is really just a cast of characters so far. They include "Unknown Laura" and "Hero James." And this morning (the next day), he showed up and spontaneously offered me a hug, which almost never happens.
