The only luck I have is the kind no one wants
Went to the ER again last week. This time was for Nate.
I’d just written out the last blog entry and gone to bed when I heard him make this awful groaning/coughing sound.
Literally leapt out of bed and almost killed myself getting to his room. When I got there, he was shaking like crazy and making that sound.
Prior to Alison getting sick, prided myself on being pretty cool under pressure but hearing him sound like that and realizing that I was alone, I panicked.
Called my brother – a doctor – and asked him what to do. He just said bring him to the ER.
Not knowing what else to do, I called Gymgirl and asked her to speak to my brother and ABFF and ran out into the street where I nearly killed both of us trying to hail a cab.
Driver: Are you crazy?! You have baby! I should..
Me: (leaping in and fussing with straps) Drive us to the hospital, now!
Driver: (eyes widen and nods) Roosevelt?
Me: Yeah. F____king Roosevelt. (still looking at son) Sorry, kid. You’re gonna be ok. Papa’s here. (try to get seatbelt on)
Baby: (coughs)
And off we went to the goddamn ER for the millionth f____king time.
After getting there and going through everything, they put us two beds away from where they put me and Alison when we first went. Felt my broken heart break again.
We finally saw a doctor who asked a buncha questions and do a buncha exams. Presently, he said that the kid had croup.
Doctor: It’s really common and rarely complicates.
Me: Dude, the only luck I have is the kind no one wants.
Then he gave the boy the exact same steroid that Alison used to take. And those broken pieces of my heart fell into my shoes.
Me: Great.
Him: He’ll feel much better afterward.
Me: (reluctantly nodding) Yeah. Do it.
Nauseated, I got up and went to the bathroom. Walked all the way down to a bathroom I’d been to a few times previously. Didn’t retch this time. When I got out, a nurse was holding the kid who pointed at me and screamed:
Him: Daddy, pee-pee! Daddy, pee-pee!
And then he clapped, because that’s what I do while potty training. The entire floor turned to look at me and I couldn’t help but laugh.
Me: Thanks, kid.
My brother checked in on us. Then I called the Gymgirl, who lives in Brooklyn, to apologize for waking and scaring her.
Her: It’s fine. I’m in the car going to you.
Me: We’ll just take a cab. I’m sorry, I didn’t know who else to call.
Her: I’m already in Manhattan. I’ll wait for you out front.
It was 2AM when we were finally discharged. And she was sitting in a car outside, waiting for the two of us. After I strapped in – parenting is a lotta fussing with straps – she drove us home, came in, and helped me put him to bed.
Her: He’ll be fine, Logan.
Me: I hope so. (thinking) It’s late. You could stay if you wanted.
Her: (shaking head) I have to bring the car back. (thinking) Why did you make it look like it was nothing for me to leave him in your blog? You and I both know it wasn’t. But you and he are a package deal. So…
Me: (interrupting) I know. I’m sorry. (pause) Thanks. For everything.
Her: I would do anything for him.
Me: I know. I’m sorry about how everything went down. For what it’s worth, you’re my favorite.
Her: (sighing) Go get some rest, Logan.
She left and I shut the gate behind her.
There’s more, of course, but this is all I wanted say on it.
Went into the boy’s room and gently put my hand on his back.
Me: (whispering) Thank you for being ok.
Location: in front of more rum
Mood: worried
Music: don’t know how to fix it now. Sorry, I’m not perfect
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