Twins!
Submitted by
Jamie on Mon, 04/23/2007 at 12:44am.
Phil woke me up last Sunday night at 2 AM in a panicky, cold sweat.
"I think I need to go to the hospital!" he blurted to my prone, drooling form.
"WHOSiWHATtheAREyouOK?!!???" I managed to snarfle in response.
"No, I have this weird pain (insert embarrassing personal info here), but it won't go away!"
"OK, let's go downstairs and get some stuff together, and if you aren't feeling better by then, we'll go," I responded, thinking that we'd stuff him full of Advil and I would be able to go back to my dream about the perfect lesson plan. It became clear after 10 minutes of me trying to find some shoes, my purse, some real pants and the keys to my car that he was in serious pain and we were indeed headed to the ER.
I ran 4 red lights and paused twice for Phil to dry-heave out the window (strange memories of trips to Burney drifted through my foggy, sleep-deprived mind). When we finally made it to the hospital, he barely made it out of the car before being sick in the nice landscaping outside of the entrance. As my siblings, my mother, and my poor Aunt Charlotte's old MR2 know, I make a regular occurrence of being sick - keeps things interesting, you know? However, this was the first time in 10 years poor Phillip threw up! Now we knew something was seriously wrong.
After signing in at the desk, we joined a snoring vagrant in the overheated waiting room at lovely Emanuel hospital. As we came bearing a heating pad and our own blanket, the nurse must have recognized us as actual patients and not just temporary residents seeking thrice-heated food and possibly narcotics. We were (thankfully) swiftly seen and taken back to an exam room.
Although the exam room was nice, Phillip felt much more comfortable in close reach of the toilet. So while he was otherwise detained, I stood guard outside the loo listening to the melodious sounds that accompany the witching hour at an Emergency Department. I kept tabs on his doctor, nurse, and test specimens like an air traffic controller from this position, informing them that he was holding court in the facilities, not his room. Finally a test confirmed blood in his urine, so they set him up with an IV and some pain medication before sending him off to a CT scan.
"Sir, this might hurt - try to hold still while we insert the IV," said Andrew, our very relaxed nurse who looked like a Dave Matthews Band fan.
"Needles don't bother me, and I'm fairly sure nothing can really 'hurt' compared to this pain," says poor Phillip, writhing in his efforts to hold still for the IV and also not come out of his skin in agony.
"Give him 15 of Dilotid and 5 of Phenergan," uttered Dr. Aloysius Fobi
(Aloe-ish-us FOE-bee), god of medicine and pain relief, and possible namesake of at least one of our children. “It seems as though you might have a kidney stone, Mr. Incorvia. Now you will be in the unique position of truly empathizing with your future wife when she’s in labor.”
"Whoa," slurred Phillip. "That's good schtuffhhhghgh..."
Finally relieved of pain and nausea, Phillip was relaxed. Ever a modest man, Phillip was now reclining with his hands behind his head and his legs sprawled, boxer briefs, delicate hospital gown, and a big smile enough cover for him. As he was wheeled toward the CT scanner, he grinned and waved at the collection of staff gathered at the nurses' station who had previously only seen the back of his head as he paced to and from the john.
"Hello!" he offered cheerfully. "I feel much better now!"
Smiles and chuckles all around.
"That is my favorite person in the whole world!" he announced, pointing at Andrew, heroic nurse, bearer of all good opiates, and (I suspect) fan of a good jazz flute solo.
"Feeling better, Mr. Incorvia?" inquired our amused, yet stately doctor as we rounded the corner toward the scan room.
“Ohhh yeeaah…!” proclaimed Phillip, seemingly as gilded by Dilotid as the mortals were by Puck’s interfering love potion.
“You, sir, are a cheap date,” replied Dr. Fobi, shaking his head bemusedly.
The CT scan was like a giant metallic donut. Phillip was placed on a bed that slid right through the hole of said donut, taking pictures of his insides as tiny “slices.” While I felt that we were close before this momentous occasion, never have I felt that I knew Phillip more or better than when I was peering over the shoulder of the CT tech taking a tour of his insides from armpits to hipbones. Weird.
“Yep,” intoned the tech, “it’s a kidney stone alright.”
When we returned to the exam room, Dr. Fobi informed us that there was good news and there was bad news.
“The good news is that the stone that’s causing you so much pain is about to leave your kidney,” he informed us. “It won’t cause you any more pain once it gets to your bladder. However, the bad news is – you have another stone in the same kidney! I’m prescribing enough pain meds to get you through passing both stones. Looks like you’re having twins! Now go home, get some rest, and give birth!”
Well, Phillip and I are glad to say that one “child” has made its way into the world. Now we are eagerly awaiting the birth of its twin.
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