Urgent, Urgent, Emergency...

Main Entry: emer·gen·cy
1 : an unforeseen combination of circumstances or the resulting state that calls for immediate action
2 : an urgent need for assistance or relief

Main Entry: scur·ry
1 : to move in or as if in a brisk pace : scamper
2 : to move around in an agitated, confused, or fluttering manner

Someone really should remind ERs what the E stands for. When one shows up in an EMERGENCY room, especially in the late evening or early morning hours, they expect a certain amount of scurrying for their dollar, or their one hundred dollars, as the case may be. In fact, for one hundred dollars, I expect scurry with a little dither thrown in for good measure.

When I took Amy to the EMERGENCY room late Friday night, however, I did not get scurry or dither for my one hundred bucks. I did get a little scamper, scurry's playful cousin; but, since the scamper was directed at the doodle-bug, I'm not sure I got my money's worth. She even got a sticker for good measure. HEY! Mr. Nurse! Where's MY warm blanket? Where's MY Strawberry Shortcake sticker? Where's my SCAMPER??

Sigh.

The evening started out right enough - we ate dinner at The Slip on Kirkland's waterfront. It's a dive with the best burgers and gorgonzola fries ever. It also has this adorable goth waitress with a fairy tattoo and the most amazing eyes - green with a ring of orange. (Hey, whaddaya know, Bob was right - I AM narcissistic! LOL!!)

Then we popped into Hector's for drinks, where we met a guy who asked me for my phone number and, because I had had two drinks, I gave it to him. And then, in the space of about 10 minutes, mi ángel pálido blanched and swelled up. Here's a pic.

Amy

A trip to the ER was imminent.

We arrived and checked in and sat...and sat...and sat and sat and sat. And we were the only people in the EMERGENCY room. Then we were shown to a nurse's station where Amy was cuffed and puffed and determined to still be alive. And then we sat a while longer. And then we were taken back to the examination rooms where we sat some more.

And then the slooooooowest moving doctor in the world came in to provide our EMERGENCY care. He was sooooooooo slow, I wanted a BP reading on him just to make sure he really was in the land of the living, and not a corpse that just happened to wander into our room looking for fun and amusing things to do while he waited for someone to realize he was dead and cart him off to the morgue at a slow scurry.

In the meantime, Amy was looking at me with those big blue eyes and trying to speak. She said, "oor aww eor pain ooh," which is Chubby Bunny for "GIVE ME SOME FUCKIN' PAINKILLERS NOW OR I AM RIPPING SOMEONE'S HEAD OFF." I feared for SloDoc's life while simultaneously hating him for making my baby suffer one moment longer than necessary.

He clearly picked up on a vibe because he actually slowed down. He hmmmm'd, then left the room to call the ENT specialist. Yeah. We sat for another 20 mins. and then I could not take watching her puff up like a marshmallow in the fire - seriously, time-lapse photog was not necessary, she was puffing at an alarming rate, and still SloDoc had not returned. I finally went looking for him.

Well, actually, I stepped outside the room and looked to the right. He was standing at the nurse's station doing absolutely nothing. He saw me, straightened up and actually bustled back to our room. Ok, that was worth, maybe, a dollar.

"Well, I spoke with the ENT and he really feels this is something we could treat with antibiotics and check in the morning. He didn't feel...blah, blah, blah...his sleep, blah, blah..."

Say what? Did you just tell me he didn't feel it was worth interrupting his sleep for?? It is now ONE in the FUCKING MORNING; we have been here all NIGHT, in this antiseptic room sitting on hard chairs under BRIGHT LIGHTS, SWELLING LIKE A BALLOON, and he doesn't feel it is worth INTERRUPTING HIS SLEEP FOR??

Now see, if I wasn't such a calm person, THAT is what I would have said to him. Instead, what I said was, "Can she at least have some painkillers?" And he clearly felt he had escaped some unknown but terrible danger, and quickly replied, "Yes! Absolutely! We'll give her some percocet."

And at that point, my beautiful, suffering daughter bursts into tears. And before you can say "johnny jump up!" a cute male nurse is tucking not one, not two, not even three, but four heated blankets around her body, she is hooked up to an IV, a prescription is being sent electronically to the pharmacy down the hall, and she is sporting a cool Strawberry Shortcake sticker.

Apparently, the E in ER is tear-activated. Note to self, start the saline "drip" earlier next time around.