I called my mom, asking her how I would remove a bead out of an ear. “Do you want me to come over and take a look?” Yes, yes, I would. She confirmed what I feared. It was best to go to the ER. Crap. Crap.
A call to their father: “Tornado S put a bead in his ear. I need to take him to the ER. My mom is here. Can you come over and watch the boys?” “Ok. I’ll let her know you’ll be here in twenty.” “Yeah, I know. This sucks. Talk to you later.”
A text to a friend: “My boys decided they needed to push my buttons to make sure I didn’t miss them too much. Then Tornado S told me he put a ball in his ear when the sun was shining. Guess where I’m going.”
I stuffed all the Star Wars book in a bag. I tossed in some Star Wars figures. I grabbed Tornado S’s blankie. My mom helped Tornado S into his jacket. I threw mine on, and we ran out of the house. At least, I was fully prepared for the very long wait ahead of us.
When we arrived, I turned around to tell Tornado S. To find him completely asleep. No problem. I picked him up. I grabbed the bag and my purse and marched into the ER. To march back to the kiddie waiting room. Yea.
We waited for three and half hours. We were in triage once, and Tornado S slept through it. He was dead asleep in my arms. I was not prepared for that. I would have lost my grip on sanity in small doses from boredom and watching tween Disney programs, (Who are those writers? Better yet, who hires them? Because I can write better stuff half asleep. Pay me.) if I didn’t have some one to text back and forth to. I also had “Pocket Frogs” as well. But it was the texting because honestly how long can you be entertained by bouncing frogs from one lily pad to another?
Finally we were called to the back. Tornado S woke up. The nurse looked in his ear. “Let me think and come back and let you know what I come up with me.”
I felt so reassured.
The first technique she tried to pull it out with some sort of plastic hook.
The second technique a doctor recommended some other nurses suck it out with a vacuum. One nurse with the hose. The other nurse and I held Tornado S.
Those nurses suggested a third technique. The paper clip technique. Three nurses and I held down Tornado S as he thrashed as they tried to pop out the bead with a paper clip. He screamed out “Mommy! Help me!!!” My heart broke. I held on. Praying.
They gave me a reference for an ENT, and I held Tornado S tight, blinking back tears.
Oh, and did I mention after a four-hour ordeal, I still was leaving tomor- I mean, I was leaving that day.
I stayed up way too late trying to get things done.
Friday morning, I was a tornado. It’s sick how well I do under pressure. Sick. I got boys up and ready. I allowed Tornado S to sleep in, but when he woke, he insisted on going to school because it was crazy sock day. I got things done. I called the ENT before we left for school and left a message.
I explained things to Tornado S’s teacher. Dropped off Tornado E. Dropped off food from Tornado E’s fundraiser. Started getting the support network online. Called the ENT again. Left a message again. Tried to straighten up the house. About to jump in the show- Phone call. Tornado S’s teacher wanted to know if I could pick up Tornado S because they were worried he would do something to lodge the bead in further on their watch. Run to get Tornado S. Jump in the shower. Hear the phone ring. Jump out of the shower. The ENT.
I explained the situation.
The scheduler: Will Monday afternoon work for you, ma’am?
Me: No. Did you miss what I said? My son has a bead in his ear. The ER couldn’t remove it last night. If for some chance, it moves and starts to hurt him, they can’t get it out. So Monday will not work for us. I understand if you can’t help us, but if you can’t then give me the number of someone who can.
The scheduler: I can try to fit him in at 3:30, but there will be a wait. I don’t know how long.
Me: We’ll be there.
I organized my mom to watch Tornado A and Tornado E while their father took Tornado S to the doctor.
I was told I could postpone my flight or my trip. Wally told me to get on the damn plane.
I had to trust. It’ll be fine. He is their father. He can do this. I had to trust. I had to trust.
“We’re at the doctor’s”
“How’s the wait?”
“Um, we’re actually waiting in the room.”
“How’s Tornado S?”
“Fine. Oh, there’s the doctor. Got to go.”
“Ok. Good luck. Tell Tornado S I love him and to be brave!”
Breathe. Breathe. Breathe. Trust. Trust. Trust. Everything will be fine.
The Imperial March
“The doctor couldn’t even get near the ear. Tornado S freaked. They’re going to have to put him under. I’ve talked to the woman who is setting this all up. It may be Monday or Tuesday.”
Tuesday. Tuesday. Tuesday.
“Ok. How’s Tornado S doing?”
“Hold on. Here.”
“Hi, Baby! How are you?”
*enter five-minute monologue about Sith Lords and Jedis and toys and Mario with a toddler accent*
“Daddy says I’ve got to go. I love you, Mama. Bye-bye.”
“I love you too, Tornado S. Be good. I’ll talk to you later.”
Please let it be Tuesday.