Our Little Piggy Bank

There are many ways to save money. You can fill an old water jug. Open a savings account. Pick up loose change you find on the ground. Put all loose change in a jar. Withdraw some money on each paycheck and put it in a box. Stash away money received from Christmas or a birthday. And of course there’s always the good ‘ol piggy bank. But who knew our daughter would take the term so literally? She actually became her own little piggy bank.

On this particular morning I had just put Jacob down for a nap. He was having trouble going to sleep and I was having doubts he would actually stay asleep for his morning nap. Shyla and I were in the bedroom. Shyla was being a little loud so I kept asking her to keep quiet so as not to wake Jacob up. She had been “talking” with him on the monitor that sat by our bed and she proceeds to tell me, “He’s not sleeping I’m talking to him.” Sigh. I was a little annoyed that nothing I was saying to her could make her keep quiet. I put something on TV for her to watch and I was reading something to myself. I had heard Shyla running around the room as usual. At this point in time she was yelling into the fan that was on, a little fun “trick” I showed her last year. It’s fun yelling into a fan because it makes your voice sound funny.

The next thing I know I hear a funny sound. I can’t really describe it, but then Shyla says to me, “I swallowed money!” When I look over at her she’s holding a quarter and crying, screaming really, and then starts gagging and spitting up saliva. Lots of it! I thought she had started to swallow it and then spit it into her hand. She kept screaming at me saying she wanted water and that it hurt. Now, I’m not very good when it comes to my children or someone I love getting hurt. Even a little scratch can make me cry. I did my best to keep it together for my little girl. “Don’t get upset Christina. You’ve got to keep it together and be strong.” I paced around thinking and trying to calmly figure out what to do. I needed to call the advice line for our hospital first off. I knew I didn’t need to call 911 because she was still breathing and while it was important something be done, it wasn’t life threatening.

I went to call our advice line, but couldn’t find our phone. I wanted to call Jake, but I couldn’t find my cell phone. I was again pacing trying to think about where the phones were, all the while Shyla was following me around screaming and spitting up lots of clear goo. I eventually was able to talk her into sitting on the stairs for me while I went on a phone hunt. Each step of the way I tried to include Shyla and smile so she wouldn’t get more worked up than she already was. I had to page our house phone in order to call my cell phone. Once I had both phones I began calling. I first called the advice line and as soon as an advice nurse got on the line I thought I was going to break down crying. It was so hard not to. They asked if I’m calling for myself and I said no. I felt my throat get a big lump. “I have to stay calm for Shyla,” I told myself. I explained what happened and they said I definitely needed to take her in, but they wanted me to talk to an ER doctor first. While I was on hold I thought it was the best time to call Jake. I didn’t know exactly what was going to be happening next, but I knew he needed to know something was going on.

When Jake answered I matter of factly told him what was going on. Again, I thought I was going to loose it. Shyla was screaming in the background so he knew something was happening. What he couldn’t hear was that Jacob never did fall asleep and with all the commotion he was awake and screaming in his crib. After I quickly explained to Jake what was happening, the ER doctor came on the line. I answered all their questions and they told me that Shyla indeed needed to be taken to the ER. While I was on the phone with the ER doctor, Jake was still on my cell phone which was on the stairs on hold, and I was trying to pack things in order to take both kids to the ER. I had a feeling we were going in so the earlier I started the packing process the better.

Timing was going well. As soon as I got both kids strapped in the car I went in the garage to get Jacob’s stroller and as I was putting it in the trunk Jake pulled up. He got in the car and off we went. On the 5 minute trip to the hospital, Shyla kept gagging. She had a “spit cup” and towel. Sure enough she needed it when we were about half way there.

One thing, one BIG thing, I don’t like about the new Antioch Medical Center that opened near our house recently is that the ER area is not in the front. You have to drive a little ways down a side road. To make it worse… when we tried to park, all we saw were Physician Parking spaces. We, the ones who needed help, had to park further than the physicians! Yeah, someone didn’t think that one out too smoothly, did they?

We got inside and the receptionist lady took our information. Since we had a child that needed help, we got a room right away. Jake stayed with Jacob and I went with Shyla to get x-rays. Shyla was very nervous and I don’t blame her. She keeps gagging on a coin stuck in her throat and then strangers keep poking at her. I held her while we waited for the x-ray machine to be prepared. She wanted me to sing her a song, so I sang one of her current favorites “The Green Grass Grows All Around”, where a few seconds later she spit up on the floor. Sorry x-ray techs!

After x-rays, we went back to the room so wait for the results. (About this time our friend Laurie came to pick up Jacob. It was lunch time and poor guy only had the cheerios I threw in the diaperbag on the way out. We also didn't know how long we were going to be there, so we needed someone to come pick him up.) With everything being digital nowadays we didn’t have to wait long. Sure enough, clear as day, a quarter stuck in her throat. We had a slew of people come in to talk to us, but essentially the only way to get it out due to the location, was to sedate her and go in with a rigid scope (I believe that’s what was used) and pull it out. Shyla didn’t want us to leave her. I laid with her on the bed all the way until they took her into surgery. We really tried our best to keep her calm. If she screamed too much, one of the risks the surgeon told us about, is that the quarter could move and get stuck further down her esophagus or it could flip over and block her airway. If I’m not mistaken, the area it was stuck at was just below her laryngopharynx. It was stuck just below the flap that covers over the esophagus and airway. (I'm not smiling in the picture, I'm laughing. And it's not a happy laugh. Shyla had just gagged a large amount of "goo saliva" all over the front of my shirt. All I could do was laugh.)

Two things that bugged me more than I’ll be able to accurately describe in here.

1. While we were waiting in preop, several nurses kept asking us what was going on. They’d talk about “things we needed to do” even though we had already done them. They were talking about needing to get an x-ray. We told them x-rays were done. They were talking like no one knew it was confirmed there was something stuck in her throat. We’re like “Hello! She’s gagging goo all over the place, it’s confirmed!” She actually gagged on me while we were being wheeled off to the OR and soaked my shirt. Oh, and I can’t even count on one hand the number of times I heard someone talking about us having to fill out admission paperwork. We already filled it out. They are supposed to be prepping Shyla for her procedure not asking us to fill out paperwork.

2. Typically with pediatrics, they are given an oral drink (sedative) to calm them down before going into the OR. Since Shyla wasn’t able to drink anything it needed to come in the form of a shot. The anesthesiologist kept asking if we’re sure we want her to have a shot. Are we sure she needs it. Are we sure, are we sure, are we sure. YES! We already said yes so just give it to her. Before he did, we thought we’d have Jake leave (since she kept asking for him at that point) and we’d wean her away from us. Looking back, I wish Jake had stayed. The next thing that happened was the anesthesiologist comes over, lifts the blanket covering Shyla’s leg and says, “Let me see, is your leg under here?” And just sticks her with the needle. He shocked me to say the least and scared the crap out of Shyla. She jumped and hit his hand which ended up making the needle scrape her leg. He then had to try again to get more medication in her. Shots are never fun, but with pediatrics it would’ve been better to warn me so I’d be aware of what was happening and also to have helped hold her arms down. Much like they do in the Pediatric Injection Clinic. I’m just chalking it up to “he doesn’t work with many pediatric patients.” It also annoyed me that he didn’t even say “It’s okay honey”. Nothing! She screamed for another minute until her lips turned blue, which he also didn’t pay any attention to her when that happened. She looked at me with a very scared look on her face. I told her I loved her and to be strong for mommy and daddy. She got the color back in her face and about another minute after that looked comatose. They had given her an injection of Ketamine… and it worked. She got really buggy eyed and then looked very sleepy. The anesthesiologist carried her into the OR and I was sent back with Jake into the waiting area.

When I got back to the waiting area I saw Jake. I tried not to cry, but my eyes still welled up and the tears came. The whole “shot” incident caught me off guard. Besides, no one likes to see their child in pain. The procedure took about 45 minutes. Jake and I hadn’t eaten since breakfast, actually I hadn’t even had breakfast, so Jake went to the cafeteria to get us something to eat. We made some calls, talked a bit, used the restroom, and ate. About 45 minutes later the surgeon came out, gave us the quarter and said everything went really well, but we’d have to wait another hour or so before we could see Shyla. (The picture below is Shyla still coming out of the anesthesia.)

Shyla was such a good patient and very brave. She had a nurse assigned to just her because she’s a pediatric patient. Nurse Mike. He was very nice and worked well with Shyla. She said hi to Jake and I when we walked in to see her. One of the first things she said to us was, “Where’s Jacob?” She loves her brother so much, even when it doesn’t seem like it, because she’s screaming at him for looking at her toy. After that, about 15 times at least, in a very cute and slurry voice, she’s kept saying to us and Nurse Mike, “I’m doing fine.” I think it was because prior to her procedure I kept asking if she was doing okay and told her that she was going to be fine. What a trooper she was! She even got an orange popsicle to make her throat feel better. She was so out of it though she had trouble holding it up straight.

We took her home and after about 2 hours she was back to her old self. For a little while she had to be careful due to the after effects of the Ketamine. While walking around and playing I noticed her fall over or tip into the wall or furniture a few times, but that was about it. The basic instructions we were given was a soft diet for 5 days and no talking for 24 hours and then only limited talking for 2 weeks. YEAH RIIIGHT! I can’t get her to stop talking for 1 minute, there’s no way I could’ve gotten her to not talk or even limited talking.

She won’t touch a quarter yet. Keeps saying she’ll choke on it. She says she’s never going to eat a coin again (I sure hope not). We have the quarter in a container for a keepsake. Maybe when she’s older she’ll want to hold it.

I’m not sure why, but this time around with Jacob I’m extra cautious that he’s going to choke on something. I wasn’t too concerned with Shyla. You’d think it would be the other way around since you’re typically more cautious with the first child. In any event, as nervous as I am, I’m now 100% more nervous. I don’t think I’ll ever be able to express how thankful I am to my Heavenly Father that nothing more happened to her. The quarter very easily could’ve blocked her airway or gotten stuck in a more compromising place/position in her esophagus. I honestly believe He knew I couldn’t handle that happening to her. I’d go crazy. I couldn’t even keep from getting hysterical the time she stepped on a nail. Although from that incident, I learned how to keep myself calm so she doesn’t get riled up. He is real. He does watch over us. He does know are strengths and weaknesses. For that I am eternally grateful!