Chaos Theory

No matter how straight forward things seem to be, chaos abounds. Take yesterday, for example. Jordan got a cold over the weekend and was seriously bogged down in mucous, but we were holding our own at home with Benadryl & the suction machine. But by Monday she was slowing down, and Tuesday morning was the lull before the storm. By mid-afternoon I was on the phone with her pediatrician, and together we decided she needed some respiratory therapy and probably a little oxygen for awhile, along with a chest x-ray to make sure she wasn't developing pneumonia.

We also agreed that instead of driving down to Emanuel in Portland I'd take her to Salmon Creek 3 miles from here, BUT IF she did need to be admitted, she'd have to be admitted at Emanuel. I agreed, risking it, certain that we'd be home in a few hours. In fact, I was so certain we'd be home in a few hours, I didn't even stop to pack my stuff, and just grabbed a few bare essentials for Jordan, and some arts & crafts for Avery's entertainment.

Life at Salmon Creek is sooooooo calm & the service is so timely. What a great experience (not to knock Emanuel at all). We met a new ER doc that we quite liked, the nurses started an IV and drew blood with the first poke, and the respiratory therapist had extracted about a cup of mucous out of her in short order. Within an hour, with a little bit of blow-by oxygen, she was snapping out of it & getting back to normal. Even the x-rays went well; I was able to hold her still & in position for both of them, and Avery scored a couple of stickers for hiding behind the shield with the technician. All was going well, and despite Avery's boredom, she won the hearts of the nurses & the doctor by jumping up and yelling "don't worry Jordan, I have an extra kiss" every time Jordan cried (and usually tried to push the nurses & the doctor out of the way to get to her).

But then chaos took over. The great ER doc told me that Jordan's x-ray showed something inexplicable in or near the upper right lobe. Some options included an enlarged thymus, something weird with a heart chamber, developing pneumonia, or a perhaps she was just in a strange position when they snapped the picture. There was no pediatric radiologist on duty at Salmon Creek, and no one knew what to think of it. So, a few phone calls later and Jordan was being admitted to the floor at Emanuel. . . . Then the real kicker -- the hospitalist at Emanuel (another doc we love) insisted that she be transported by ambulance. Yes, ambulance! There's always a first time for everything. I offered to drive her, but they insisted on an ambulance transport because, at that time, she was on oxygen & had an IV placed.

So, there I was, stuck at the hospital with an ambulance on the way, Avery, & Jordan's wheelchair, and nothing for me. Luckily Devon was on the way to pick Avery up for swimming lessons, the wheelchair fit in the trunk of the Saturn, and there was a carseat in the Saturn for us to use in the ambulance. Of course, by the time the ambulance was there, Jordan was fully "recovered" (the deep suction and blow-by oxygen had worked its course, as planned), and the ambulance was truly overkill. And because Jordan was crabby again (thanks a lot, Keppra), the ambulance crew wanted me to ride with her -- there went my chance to swing by the house and pick up the stuff I guess I should have packed in the first place.

Upon arrival at Emanuel I was pleased to find out that not only was our favorite hospitalist on for the night, Jordan's actual pediatrician was picking up a shift overnight, too. Phew, at least I didn't have to explain Jordan to the residents for a couple of hours. So, we got settled in and made a plan: stop feeding her at 4:00am, take her to x-ray first thing in the morning & have the radiology tech make sure they get a good position, then have a ped radiologist read it. If there was still a problem she'd be NPO for sedation for a CT Scan at ~10:00am. If the x-ray was okay, and her oxygen level was fine (which it was all night), we'd head home and forget it ever happened.

Luckily we were home by 10:00am, instead of heading for the CT scan. Turns out, like her pediatrician suspected, she must have been rotated in a funny position for the x-ray at Salmon Creek. No big surprise there, she's always in a funny position. That's what happens when you weigh 26 pounds and have no muscle control. I did a great job of holding her still at Salmon Creek, but not holding her straight.

As for other chaos last night -- I had to have Devon grab stuff for me and bring it down to Emanuel to get me through night. . . . I'll never risk that again!