Do not make Ethan angry. You would not like him if he's angry.
I knew this would suck. That's why when the allergist said that Ethan needed a celiac panel, I drug my heels for a little over a month before I got around to it. I needed his ped to fill out some paperwork, so I thought I'd just kill two birds with one stone and aren't I smart?
No. I am very, very dumb.
I obediently took Eef to Mercy Edmond Memorial and back to the lab we went. I signed in, and then pretty much picked my nose for about 15-20 minutes--even though there was NO ONE a head of us. Finally the lab person peeked out, took one look at Ethan and said: "I don't feel comfortable drawing his blood because he's small. You need to go to Mercy Signal Ridge."
Um....what? Are you stupid? I wonder if her superior knew she was sending all pediatric lab draws elsewhere. **Update--she was a nurse filling in for someone. Still...you're a nurse and you can't draw blood?**
Slightly grinding my teeth, I had to haul a confused and screaming Ethan back to the car, trying my best to explain to this autistic 5 year old why we couldn't go home, yet. (BTW: They gave me the wrong directions to Signal Ridge. Luckily I knew where it was from my pregnancy with Livi, otherwise I would have added getting lost to this tome).
I arrive at Signal Ridge and Ethan happily starts filling up a cup with water from their Ozarka dispenser. We check in and are quickly ushered back to the lab. Alright! This is more like it!
And we wait.....
and wait.....
Again, about 15 minutes later (I guess that's standard lab time), he's taken back. Ethan decides that he's done and proceeds to pitch a fit. The lab people frown and decide to take him to a room so he can lie down and be drawn. Okay, that's cool. Back to the room. Unfortunately, by now Ethan has transformed into the Hulk. He will NOT have any needles come near him--not if he can help it. So, I have to crawl up on the table, brace his shoulder and neck, with another nurse holding his legs, and the other nurse trying to draw. She gets only a little bit before Ethan's fighting rips out the needle. They are done and refuse to do more. "You need to take him to the hospital. We can't handle kids as strong as him." Thanks to Hercules, I now have to go to a third place to have blood drawn!
Back home we go, with me seething and flames shooting from my nostrils. I explain to my dad (who was watching Livi) what happened, probably with a voice sounding vaguely like Satan. Now...it's war. We agree to meet after lunch for Project Ethan Putsch. I called Mercy Hospital and explained that they could expect Godzilla shortly.
Upon arriving at Mercy, I swear I burst into flames--it is so hot. Livi decided that walking was dull, so I got to carry a sweaty toddler to add to the experience. We found the lab and no one was there. Huzzah! I signed us in, paid the co-pay, blah blah blah. The guy working there said he'd need the other nurse to get back from lunch to help. Enter in another 20 minute wait. I'm beginning to suspect that Jesus will return before this test can be given. Meanwhile, I had given Livi a Tootsie Pop to keep her amused, and she wielded that thing with Samurai precision. She managed to slime Dad and I many times, despite our attempts to stay out of harm's way. Now, all three of us smell vaguely like Bayer baby aspirin. Also, two other groups of people have now found their way there, so when they called us, I knew Ethan was going to have an audience for the epic fit he was about to throw.
Dad ended up having to hold Ethan in a brace position. Ethan's legs went between my Dad's, and then Dad had to cross his leg over Ethan's, so his legs were stabilized. Then, they had Dad put his arm over Ethan's free arm, while the nurse took care of holding the arm getting blood drawn. (I figured after this, Dad could probably take up yoga). Ethan was furious. HULK TIME!!! He screamed and yelled, his face going an attractive shade of puce. But thankfully, the deed was done. We successfully got enough blood for a celiac panel! I felt like fat, pudgy Raphael-like cherubs were tossing down petals upon us for this great victory. Ethan and Livi both got to pick out teddy bears. Ethan chose yellow and Livi purple. When we got home, I asked Livi what her bear's name was. She considered it, and then said: "Herpes." I have no idea where she heard that, because A.) I do NOT have herpes, and B.) She doesn't watch t. v. I modified the name to Herbie and she seemed content. I figured I'd have to meet with the Elders, otherwise. Fun times.
I knew this would suck. That's why when the allergist said that Ethan needed a celiac panel, I drug my heels for a little over a month before I got around to it. I needed his ped to fill out some paperwork, so I thought I'd just kill two birds with one stone and aren't I smart?
No. I am very, very dumb.
I obediently took Eef to Mercy Edmond Memorial and back to the lab we went. I signed in, and then pretty much picked my nose for about 15-20 minutes--even though there was NO ONE a head of us. Finally the lab person peeked out, took one look at Ethan and said: "I don't feel comfortable drawing his blood because he's small. You need to go to Mercy Signal Ridge."
Um....what? Are you stupid? I wonder if her superior knew she was sending all pediatric lab draws elsewhere. **Update--she was a nurse filling in for someone. Still...you're a nurse and you can't draw blood?**
Slightly grinding my teeth, I had to haul a confused and screaming Ethan back to the car, trying my best to explain to this autistic 5 year old why we couldn't go home, yet. (BTW: They gave me the wrong directions to Signal Ridge. Luckily I knew where it was from my pregnancy with Livi, otherwise I would have added getting lost to this tome).
I arrive at Signal Ridge and Ethan happily starts filling up a cup with water from their Ozarka dispenser. We check in and are quickly ushered back to the lab. Alright! This is more like it!
And we wait.....
and wait.....
Again, about 15 minutes later (I guess that's standard lab time), he's taken back. Ethan decides that he's done and proceeds to pitch a fit. The lab people frown and decide to take him to a room so he can lie down and be drawn. Okay, that's cool. Back to the room. Unfortunately, by now Ethan has transformed into the Hulk. He will NOT have any needles come near him--not if he can help it. So, I have to crawl up on the table, brace his shoulder and neck, with another nurse holding his legs, and the other nurse trying to draw. She gets only a little bit before Ethan's fighting rips out the needle. They are done and refuse to do more. "You need to take him to the hospital. We can't handle kids as strong as him." Thanks to Hercules, I now have to go to a third place to have blood drawn!
Back home we go, with me seething and flames shooting from my nostrils. I explain to my dad (who was watching Livi) what happened, probably with a voice sounding vaguely like Satan. Now...it's war. We agree to meet after lunch for Project Ethan Putsch. I called Mercy Hospital and explained that they could expect Godzilla shortly.
Upon arriving at Mercy, I swear I burst into flames--it is so hot. Livi decided that walking was dull, so I got to carry a sweaty toddler to add to the experience. We found the lab and no one was there. Huzzah! I signed us in, paid the co-pay, blah blah blah. The guy working there said he'd need the other nurse to get back from lunch to help. Enter in another 20 minute wait. I'm beginning to suspect that Jesus will return before this test can be given. Meanwhile, I had given Livi a Tootsie Pop to keep her amused, and she wielded that thing with Samurai precision. She managed to slime Dad and I many times, despite our attempts to stay out of harm's way. Now, all three of us smell vaguely like Bayer baby aspirin. Also, two other groups of people have now found their way there, so when they called us, I knew Ethan was going to have an audience for the epic fit he was about to throw.
Dad ended up having to hold Ethan in a brace position. Ethan's legs went between my Dad's, and then Dad had to cross his leg over Ethan's, so his legs were stabilized. Then, they had Dad put his arm over Ethan's free arm, while the nurse took care of holding the arm getting blood drawn. (I figured after this, Dad could probably take up yoga). Ethan was furious. HULK TIME!!! He screamed and yelled, his face going an attractive shade of puce. But thankfully, the deed was done. We successfully got enough blood for a celiac panel! I felt like fat, pudgy Raphael-like cherubs were tossing down petals upon us for this great victory. Ethan and Livi both got to pick out teddy bears. Ethan chose yellow and Livi purple. When we got home, I asked Livi what her bear's name was. She considered it, and then said: "Herpes." I have no idea where she heard that, because A.) I do NOT have herpes, and B.) She doesn't watch t. v. I modified the name to Herbie and she seemed content. I figured I'd have to meet with the Elders, otherwise. Fun times.
ugh - you think they would have training for drawing blood from strong kids in nursing school. sigh. sounds like no fun!
ReplyDeletewhen C was about a year old, his dr called for a blood test for lead poisoning. why? I have no idea. but me being naive just went along with it. it was awful - and the nurse kept getting on to me for not holding him down hard enough and C, the 1-yr-old for not laying still.
2 days later, i got a call that the test needed to be repeated because it didn't work. in other words, i think they lost the blood or something. i told them no thank you. and switched pediatricians (this was the final straw among many things)...we go where you now where we are much happier.
I know this isn't funny. But's is just so stinkin' funny.
ReplyDeleteThey have training. Even I know how to draw blood from a child. You do the same as an older person, me. Use a butterfly needle, get it on the first stick, & maybe tell the doctor next time give the child something to relax him. Every kid I know fights blood draws. Even I remember having blood drawn only finger stick with those tiny glass tubes to get blood. He will only get stronger. Shame on those nurses at the first lab. She should be reported.
ReplyDelete