Dear Zayde,
This week I learned about the Emergency Room.
On Sunday, I woke up itchy. Mommy and Daddy pulled up my pajamas and saw that I was covered in bumps that they called hives. I know that bees live in hives, so at first I was worried, but then I figured out that hives is one of those words that can mean very different things, like bark and bow.
My parents were trying to play it cool, but we both know how uncool they normally are, so any time they try to stay calm, I get worried. Mommy grabbed the Benadryl, and I was a good sport and swallowed everything in the tiny plastic cup. I made a face as though I didn't like it, but the truth is that medicine tastes like candy, and I don't get candy very often, so I enjoyed every last drop. Within 20 minutes or so, my skin was clearing, and my parents started to relax.
After breakfast, we were all in good spirits, so I suggested that we take a little dip in the pool. I think what I actually said was, "I want to go swim in my pool now, please." (I've found that a well-positioned please makes grown-ups bend over backwards.) It was around 90 degrees by that time, so we all pulled on our suits, gooped on the sunblock, grabbed our sunglasses and towels, and headed outside. The water felt glorious, and after an hour of splashing, kicking, and jumping off the side of the pool and into the refreshingly cool water, we were ready to head back inside. By that time, my skin was completely void of hives, and we all thought we'd put that unpleasantness behind us.
After a quick shower, during which Mommy made sure to wash my hair with the special orange-scented shampoo that keeps my hair from turning green after swimming, we dined on peanut butter sandwiches and strawberries. (Well, that's what I had. My parents, who do not share my culinary sensibilities, probably ate salads or some other disgustingly adult meal.) Feeling slightly fatigued, I retired to my bed for a lengthy nap, and I didn't wake up until 4:00 PM.
That's when all you-know-what broke loose.
I awoke to find myself fully covered in hives, from my neck to my toes. I was itchy and angry and wanted answers. Mommy took one look at me and grabbed her phone to call the doctor. Of course, his office closes at 4:00 on Sunday afternoons, so we had to make other arrangements. That's when I learned that Mommy and Daddy can get me - and my snacks, juice, diapers, etc. - into the car and all the way to the hospital in under ten minutes.
This is what I learned about the Emergency Room. It's colorful. All the walls are painted bright colors, and there are quite a few murals depicting happy animals and various copyright-infringed cartoon characters. There's a waiting room where sick kids and worried parents sit and watch Spongebob Squarepants. (I hadn't seen that show previously, so I was a little confused as to why a talking sponge lived in a pineapple underwater, but that's not really relevant to our story.) When it's your turn, you get a special paper bracelet and access behind heavy double doors. That's when the VIP treatment starts. We got our own room, complete with a television hanging from the ceiling and a remote control attached to the wall. Our room had a rainbow curtain, from behind which various uniformed professionals appeared. They all told me I was adorable and such a big girl, both of which I hear all the time, and neither of which I shall ever tire of hearing. My parents shared our daily activities with each person who joined our party. Bored with the story, I focused on chomping Veggie Stix and watching whatever cartoon was on Nick Jr. Soon enough, a nurse brought me a giant syringe filled with a sweet orange liquid. Wanting to impress her, I swallowed the entire dose without complaint. Then I got a popsicle! That was the end of our ER visit, but I'll always have these cherished memories - and the paper bracelet - as keepsakes.
For the next four days, I learned that steroids make me hyper and hungry, a combination that manifested in my running around the house yelling, "more turkey!" I also learned that Benadryl makes me sleepy and therefore more than willing to take a nap (rather than my usual cajoling, begging and bartering routine that precedes any and all bed-related activities). Mommy clearly enjoyed giving me one of those two medicines.
I guess the most important lesson I learned is that having allergies leads to unexpected adventures with medical professionals, and if that's my cross to bare - and if it always includes TV, jewelry, and candy - I'm luckier than most.
Smooth as jazz,
Zelda
