By Charlotte Bowman
When I learned that The Medical Center in Columbus was building a full-service Pediatric Emergency Department (ED) this fall, I cheered.
A trip to the Emergency Room can be scary or slow-going or both, so my husband and I try to avoid it if possible. If we can’t see our boy’s Pediatrician, we’ll wait for the After Hours Clinic. If the After Hours Clinic is closed, we’ll do our best to ride out the night.
To date, I can count on one hand the number of times we’ve taken our boys to the Emergency Department. And I swear each trip gave me grey hairs.
One time when “Squeedunk” was a toddler, he accidentally ingested some adult medication. I called Poison Control, who said to call our Pediatrician, who said to go straight to the ER. The concern was the medication would cause his blood pressure to bottom out.
The on-call ER doctor hooked Squeedunk up to a adult-sized blood pressure machine that squeezed his tiny arm. Needless to say, my little guy didn’t like having his arm squeezed one bit. The harder he fought, the tighter it squeezed. This cycle continued all night. We never did get an accurate reading.
The doctor finally released us saying Sqeedunk’s flailing and wailing had done a better job keeping his blood pressure elevated than any drug on the market.
Then there was the weekend when Squeedunk was running a high temp (103.5F). That Sunday, I took him to the ER and settled in for a lengthly wait. Wouldn’t you know? His temperature dropped while we waited. The on-call doctor (who clearly had little experience dealing with sick children and frightened mothers) gave him a cursory exam. He declared it a virus and sent us home to ride it out.
Three days later, Squeedunk had to be transported to Egleston Children’s Hospital in Atlanta for emergency treatment for the 2nd worst case of pneumonia his pediatrician had ever seen.
To make matters worse, that Friday my in-laws called. My oldest son “Lego-Boy” had been sent home from school with a high temperature. So my husband drove back from Atlanta to take him to see our pediatrician. She immediately admitted Lego-Boy to the hospital… for pneumonia!
And there was the time when Lego Boy vomited all night. I took him to the ER, where he was diagnosed with a virus. The care was top-notch, but I had a hard time explaining to my frightened child why that woman over there was screaming in agony.
Needless to say, trips to the Emergency Department are not much fun. But if we have to go again (and odds are we will!), being treated in a child-friendly environment by trained pediatric specialists with pint-sized equipment will make the experience a little less upsetting for my boys… and mean fewer grey hairs for me!
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