So here I was, just getting back from my brother's lovely wedding, just coming down off the high that occurs when you are no longer under the scrutiny of your MIL and the rest of your extended family and a split of champagne in first class (although when your Dad is dancing with a popped collar and twirling his tie that scrutiny is somewhat diminished, but still). I was anxiously awaiting the arrival of TP and Mr. Cheeks from their travels. I had just finished a lovely Mexican lunch where I was recounting with some hilarity the whole story of the snake charmer church, and the various antics of my family members at the wedding. TP called me previously to say that a 2 hour trip had turned into approximately 13 hours, what with all the screaming, the toy throwing, the coughing, and the wheezing. I could hear Mr. Cheeks fighting for air over the phone and told TP that if the next burst of inhaler didn't improve things, he needed to stop at the next emergency room, STAT (see how I did that, threw some doctor jargon in there? Laugh Dammit.)
TP and I carried on a long distance relationship for 2+ years between Birmingham, AL and Conway, AR. Every other week one of us would drive to the other's city and we became familar with the routes, the best bathrooms, the best Taco Bell, etc (except for that time I got lost and ended up in Pickens, Mississippi). One of the road signs I always though was silly was the big blue "H" that indicated a hospital was nearby. "What kind of person really needs to know where the hospital is as they are driving?" I foolishly thought. Well, one of those signs came in handy, because the next one TP saw, in Greenwood, MS, was where he stopped, and it's a good thing he did.
He spent 2 hours in the emergency room waiting to see a doctor, and about 20 minutes after they got there Mr. Cheeks threw up all over the place. Take that Mississippi! And TP's pants! After they finally made it back to an exam room and he was, you know, examined, it was determined that they either needed to stay and be admitted or try and come back to Alabama and go to an emergency room here. Since they had already spent 5 hours in the ER, and had two breathing treatments with no discernible results, and the screaming, toy throwing, wheezing, and snot that would await TP in the car on the way home, then another 6+ hours waiting to be seen at the children's hospital here, I urged him to stay and I would drive the 4 hours to them.
It sounded like such a good idea at the time.
But there were no rooms available for admittance at ye old hospital. Not for tiny babies in respiratory distress. No siree.
I got in the car, and I stopped and got some supper (and when I told TP I was having Burger King, I could hear him salivating over the phone, because you can't leave tiny babies in the ER room to go and get something to eat, no you can't, you can't even go to the bathroom), and a cell phone charger and 4 hours later I arrive in fabulous Greenwood, the home of, well, nothing. And guess what, there's still not any rooms! And who's going to check out of the hospital at 11pm? Nobody. Nobody at all.
So we spent the night in an over heated exam room, with a grouchy, teathered to an IV pole, hot tired baby. It was not pleasant. We finally figured out appropiate sleeping arangements, which were Mr. cheeks on the exam table, TP in a chair with his head on the table and his arms spread out to keep Mr. cheeks from rolling off and me on the (hard!!!) floor, on a sheet(!!!) from the linen closet. The doctor's stool was just too damn rolly for me to provide a proper exit barrier on the other side of the exam table. Add to that being woken up every two hours for another breathing treatment and butt thermometer, the poor people I walked in on in the bathroom (lock the door crazy people!) and it was a long night.
