Sometimes the military is out of control with acronyms. Who thinks this stuff up?!?
WRBNMMC - on everything, all over the place.
Walter Reed Bethesda National Military Medical Center.
For real.
Why can't we just drop some words?
Who knows?
Anyway, we were there all weekend. With my youngest.
She's fine. We're not completely out of the woods, there's a few more tests to do, but she's good.
But on Thursday we didn't know.
I think the first phone call from ENT Dr. B up at WRBNMMC went something close to this, "I'm not telling you to speed, but maybe just drive fast. Come now. Pack some clothes, bottles and whatever you need but just get here. Straight to the ER, I'll have ENT and PEDS waiting for you."
We sped. Through 4:00 rush hour in Northern VA, WDC and Eastern MD... a.k.a. Traffic Corridor of the World.
Once we got there they determined her life was actually not in immediate danger (thankyouverymuch for the heart attack), but they still needed to figure some stuff out.
So there we stayed. At WRBNMMC, for 3 days.
Hospitals suck. If you want some perspective on how bad you in fact DO NOT have it, go spend some time at Walter-Reed Bethesda. Take your fair share of fortitude. You'll need it.
But there we were. We drove her around in this car to pass the time. Which was a bit of
deja vu.
We found the play room. She tried to eat the puzzles.
I don't do well in hospitals. I don't trust or really even like doctors. I start to feel a special kinship to the Mama in the picture frame above my baby girl's hospital crib. I start ripping people's heads off for messing with my kid. Which is bad news in a hospital. For everyone really. Me included. Sometimes it's people's job to mess.
One Dr. had me pegged the minute we walked in the door. After talking with me for maybe 30 minutes, he walked in our room and said to my rockstar of a husband, "Well, Mr. Weathers, you've picked a real sweet wife... not only has she disagreed with everything I've said or mentioned, but she managed to turn whatever was in that bag into something acceptable for us to feed your daughter."
Adam just laughed and nodded.
He tried to tell me to give her gatorade.
"What... that's like high fructose corn syrup concentrate. No way!"
"Ok, Mrs. Weathers, we've got apple juice back there. Can we give her some of that?"
"Is it organic apple juice?"
"No."
"Then no. Don't you watch the news. Ever heard of arsenic?"
"Well... then she can't have anything. Clear liquids only and that's all we have to offer you."
"Tell you what, Doc. How bout I give her this organic grape juice box (that I had in my bag for Brannen) mixed half with this water bottle... you can still see through it.... will that work?"
"Uhhh... sure.... I guess."
Then the Dr. said, "We may have to give her some Prednisolone (steroid)."
Then I said. "No, Sir."
He gave up. Poor guy. Docs don't really care for me much either I'm afraid.
Complete disclosure. I need doctors and my children need doctors, I'm grateful for them. With my whole heart. I thank God for some of the special doctors he's placed in mine and my kids lives. The good ones are worth more than gold. Even with the bad ones, I always try my hardest to stay respectful. I really do. I promise...
The other thing that stinks about hospitals is that there is no sleep to be had. At. All. I finally started sitting on the floor in front of our hospital room door to ward off any would be interrupters of my daughters desperately needed slumber. The vitals lady came by, "sorry, she's sleeping, please come again!" The nurse with her Motrin, "pretty sure whatever pain she was in isn't bothering her now... because she's asleep... I'll let you know when she wakes up." - "Well, Mrs. Weathers, she's due for it now.... " "No, no she isn't."
Me and sweet baby at about 8:00 on Friday morning. I'm going on literally 27 hours of no sleep in this picture. By the time I went to sleep I think I was on about hour 40.
Daddy came to the rescue. With his bright smile and coffee!
By the time I am done officially "mothering" my daughters I hope I will have instilled in them a gratefulness for health. It's something that, until it's gone, appreciativeness is often lacking. I am so grateful for the healthy girls and husband that I have. Others are less fortunate and my heart aches for them. I also realize that at any moment, that could just as easily be us.
We roomed down the hall from a 3 year old cancer patient who wouldn't take off his Captain America costume because it made him stronger for the chemo...
So grateful. Humbled.
Love, Krista