Last week we got back from a long trip to California to visit family that we haven’t seen collectively in years. We were supposed to leave on Monday and end up home that night (between a 15-18 hour drive, depending on stops)… unfortunately we were delayed by a day. Was it California’s fault? Not entirely. To be fair, it is mostly our fault (myself and Shae) for not being assertive enough about the dangers of his allergy. But during the process we were shown yet another reason why we will never live in the state again. I’ll try to keep this short for my sake more than anyone reading this. I’m tired (look at the time).

On Sunday night Djai got hold of a small amount of peanut butter from a cookie. We’re talking a corner of a 1″ by 1″ cookie… not too much. But, as anyone with a peanut allergy knows, it doesn’t take a great deal of the stuff for a reaction.

Shae noticed it by the small bit of chocolate around his mouth. She knew what it was. My Mom knew that the only cookie on the table that had melted chocolate was the ones with peanut butter. We were all saying good-byes so nobody saw him get it. I’ll be honest here that I was in complete denial and wanted to believe that he had gotten anything other than the cookie with the peanut butter. A brownie? Anything. But no. I didn’t want to believe it.

Then he started coughing.

That was the point where we called 9-1-1 and Shae pulled out the epinephrine injector to treat possible anaphylactic shock (deadly allergic reaction common with peanuts). Otherwise known as an EpiPen, this is a device that anyone with a serious allergy probably has, and it is very much a double-edged sword. We’re very glad to have it with us, but we never want to be in a situation to have to use it. Luckily, when presented with a fight-or-flight situation with your own child… fight is a near natural response. Shae administered the shot to Johnathan while myself and the others in the room helped to keep him calm. I tried my best to explain to him why it hurt, what it was doing, and what was going to happen. Even though kids can’t fully communicate, they can understand a great deal of what is going on around them with a little help. I believe in full transparency.

Next step is the ambulance. Then the firetruck (they didn’t stick around too long since the paramedics were already on the scene and working). We explained to the gentlemen what happened, what we did, and Djai appeared to be quite calm. We put him on the stretcher and Shae went inside the ambulance with the two paramedics. We waited… and waited… and waited.

They came out and Djai appeared to be Ok. They say that he was one of the best patients that they’ve had, even better than some adults. Under the circumstances, Shae opted to observe him at home rather than take him in to the emergency room. In retrospect, we would probably agree that next time we won’t do that in the same situation.

20 minutes later, after his bath, as they were getting ready for bed, he begins to cry and look very uncomfortable. I take a look at his face and his eyelids look swollen and he looks to me to be quite lethargic. We call 9-1-1 again. Same paramedics come back out and this time I go in with them (Shae wasn’t wearing shoes so couldn’t go). This time he isn’t very calm. I’m watching hives break out on him and he vomits twice as I struggle to get him to roll onto his side.

Needless to say we get on our way to emergency room this time. Phew! You’d think that would be a load off eh? After much caressing and soft talking on the way over I managed to get Johnathan to fall asleep amidst his great discomfort. They have him hooked up to all sorts of machines so there is no worry that his vitals are in any distress at all. On the way over the paramedic in the back actually taught me a little about what numbers they were watching and what kinds of responses would be needed for different scenarios. These guys are like emotional rocks! You get the feeling that they can look at just about anything and keep their nerves about them while dealing with the situation appropriately.

When we get to the hospital Djai wakes up but I’m not too worried at this point since… heck we’re in a pediatric emergency ward! What better place could I hope to be? How wrong could we have been?!?! I think Djai would have had better care at the Santa Ana Zoo from the monkeys than from these imbeciles! If you know me at all you know I don’t anger very easily. In fact, other than being upset about various political issues, I don’t recall the last time I was filled with so much rage. These people filled me with such contempt I can’t even being to describe it. I shook. What do you do in situation like this? Yell at the nurses and doctors? Childish I thought and similar to biting the hand the feeds you. Naw. I just settled to write this afterwards and post a link to their hospital at the end. Here’s the shortlist of their blunders:

• Nurse comes in… then leaves abruptly and we hear, “Is there a patient in Room #9?” (we’ve been in Room #9 for 15 minutes… need I remind you that we came in from an ambulance with a child on a FREAKING STRETCHER?!?!)
• She comes back and gets the basic info. Shae asks if he can get some Benadryl to stop the itching as he is scratching so hard at his body that he in bleeding in some areas. She says soon. And leaves.
• Then a second woman comes in and wants to get our information. I gladly give her what I can to get the ball rolling. During the process she tells Johnathan not to cry… twice. Ok. Let’s see here. Let me stick a 1/2″ needle in your leg so you don’t die from anaphylactic shock, get in an ambulance twice, break out in hives, vomit repeatedly, scratch yourself bloody, and see if YOU don’t cry. The boy has earned all the crying he can get as far as I’m concerned.
• Nurse comes back in. No medication. No doctor. She leaves and nobody cares.
• Ahhh… Doctor Cole. Are we glad to see you. Luckily you read the charts before walking into an emergency patients room right? No? Then that makes you the 5th person (including 911 and paramedic) that we’ve had to use the keyword, “peanut allergy” with. You’d think that word would stick out on the chart for some reason. I don’t know why. Maybe because it’s like feeding cyanide to people that are allergic to it.
• Doctor Cole gets another mark on the same visit to our room. Why? Well I don’t really know entirely because I wasn’t listening in on the phone conversation that he had to leave our room for. That’s right. The phone rings out in the hall and he has the audacity to excuse himself to take a phone call. But hey, at least he knows my son is allergic to peanuts and ate one tonight. This is called progress akin to a functional government in Iraq.
• Doc Cole (we’re cool like that now) comes back in and we finally get to place our order of Benadryl to stop the itching. He also wanted Djai to take Prednisolone for the allergic reaction. He opts not to give an IV shot but rather an oral dose. Considering the EpiPen, we agree.
• Nurse comes in with two pink vials of the medication. Leaves.
• Djai takes the Benadryl without any issues but he won’t take more than a drop of the other stuff. I mix it with some apple juice (which he never gets so it’s a big treat) and he still won’t take it. We urge him harder and he gags on it so bad that he vomits it all up. More dinner. And the recently ingested Benadryl.
• The nurse comes in and we inform her of what happened. Shae mentions that an IV dose might work better. I didn’t tell Shae at the time, but that sorry excuse for an emergency-ward nurse rolled her eyes! Needless to say, she comes back in a few minutes with more of the same. Nice tasting Benadryl and putrid Prednisolone.
• Johnathan is so tired now that we can barely keep him awake to take anything. Even the Benadryl. I find the nurse outside and tell her that he is too tired and that if they could just give us a prescription, we could go home and we would be fine. She has to confer with buddy Doc.
• Nope. Doc says he’s gotta have at least the Prednisolone. Fine. Two can play this game. In fact, we’ll all play along. When the nurse leaves, I squirt the nasty stuff into his sippy cup, and we tell the brilliant doctor that he took his meds and is out like a light.
• I never thought leaving a hospital would be such a joyous occasion. The ordeal should be over right? Right? Nope. Remember my zoo analogy. It still stands.
• Shae takes Djai home so he can sleep and I go with Dad and Erinn to the pharmacy to get his prescriptions for the morning (it’s after 11pm at this point I think). I hand the pharmacist the prescription by Doc Cole and he looks at it funny. Apparently, Cornelius screwed up by filling in capsules in the first part of the dosage and then a liquid amount in another. Sorry pal, I don’t think any 2 year olds are quite ready for swallowing pills. You, as the emergency staff in the pediatric ward should know that. A quick phone call by the pharmacist clears that right up.

What did we learn from all this?

• 9-1-1 Operators, EMT paramedics, Pharmacists - You guys rock. Keep up the good work. Don’t be surprised if Shae sends cookies down your way. It wouldn’t be the first time.
• The nurses, data takers, and doctors at Northridge Hospital Medical Center have failed their credo, my family, and worst of all - my son.

Plus, I have a website that is indexed every single day by Google, Yahoo, MSN, and a dozen other search engines… with my story and your link. This is the sweetest justice I could hope for. And Johnathan is fine now, thanks more to love than medicine.

This entry was posted Saturday, June 24th, 2006 at 1:42 am and is filed under Events, General, Johnathan, Opinions, Outside the Box. Both comments and pings are currently closed.