Here's the story:
Went to the park on Friday afternoon, just as we've done about a million times. Had pb&j. The boys favorites. Drank Capri-suns. Loved it. Gavin was on carrot number four (he had to eat four since he's four years old . . .) and Reese decided he wanted to try one. Since the four teeth that have been torturing him for the last three months were finally in, I thought it would be nice for him to try it out. He took a small bite, and spit it out. That's not unusual. He likes the 'in-and-out' method. Suddenly Emergency! Gavin had to go potty. He loves to wait until "it's coming out" before telling me. There's no stopping for that kid. We rush off to the bathroom, with Reese in tow. I left Reese out side and Gav and I ran in (and left the door open). I came out literally two seconds later to find Reese choking (that's right CHOKING) on his carrot. I sweep him up, and start doing back blows (after years and years in training in that stuff and I finally use it on a kid of my own . . .). I won't go into detail, but let's just say the sandwich and some of the carrot came up. He was upset, but seemed okay.
Next scene.
We go home, Reese is exhausted from the incident (and because it's nap time) and so I put him down and he sleeps for just about three hours. When he wakes up, he and Gav are running around and chasing each other. That's when I hear the horrific wheezing. "Hmm, there's something not right with that sound", says Spencer. And I immediately think, "Oh he's fine". Well, he wasn't. After calls to the nurse line and debating for half an hour, we're convinced to head to the ER. Fabulous.
Scene.
After hours of waiting (POKE ME IN THE EYES WITH NEEDLES), we were told that we needed to go to the main Children's Hospital because REESE HAD ASPIRATED A CARROT. Serious? In fact, we almost had to be escorted in an ambulance. Now remember, I realized there was a problem when Reese and Gavin were CHASING each other. And now we're dealing with an obstructed air way. Shocked doesn't even begin to explain how I felt.
Next.
Gavin was safe at my sister-in laws (thanks again Angie!!). I had changed from a skirt into sweats. The contacts were out. I knew it would be a long night. That's an understatement. After telling the story about a million times, having every nurse in the hospital listen to his right lung, and a horrible IV later, we were [finally] in our room by 1:00. The night was long. The promises were broken (we'll put you down for a surgery to remove it tonight. Wait. Maybe tomorrow at 8:00. Wait. Maybe at 1:00). The energy levels were drained. And we were spent. The worst part was that Reese felt fine. Try getting a 16 month old to "settle down" while hooked to an IV machine. Not fun.
So here we are. Finally home, feeling cheated out of our weekend, but feeling so incredibly blessed that our baby is okay. Poor Spencer.
Yeah, Reese, I wanted to rip my face off too.
Finally resting. (And yes, that massive splint is the IV).
Trying, for the 100th time, to rip that thing out.
Ready for the Bronchoscopy (13 hours after the incident).
Done. And tired.
The obstruction. How nice they let us take it home.
A picture from the scope. Pretty sick.And even though we were miserable, my sweet Spencer found a way to make us laugh.
