But then, on Friday, Dean ripped down the baby gate at the bottom of the stairs. I couldn't figure out how to get it back up there right and Andrew was out of town, so I just took it off. It was one afternoon. As we're getting ready to head up for bed, Warren starts up the stairs. One step. I bend down to grab Dean and look up in time to see Warren falling. He fell 1 step, not the biggest fall we've had by a long shot. And he screamed. I ran over and picked him up just in time to see his eyes roll back and his little body go limp. Terror. Complete and utter terror. And in about 10 seconds, he was back to screaming and was fine. I was not fine. I frantically called the pediatrician who confirmed that little Warren needed to go straight to the ER.
Now, the ER is a whole different kind of terror for moms of micro preemies. I knew Warren needed to be checked out, but I also knew he was in isolation. He's not supposed to come with me to the grocery store, much less the one place sick people go. I shuddered. And Dean! Poor Dean was going to have to come along too since Andrew was away. I would be exposing both my children to all the things we've kept them isolated from over the past 19 months. I cannot even begin to express how thankful I am that Uncle Wade and Aunt Aly were able to save the day, to come up to the hospital and get Dean and take him home so he could sleep and not face exposure.
The Children's ER at the Levine left much to be desired. It was crowded, I'm sure filled with RSV. I waited to check in and explained about Warren's head injury and the urgency with which the nurse insisted I come straight to the ER. I was told to wait. I then explained about Warren's immunity and was told I could wait in a small room off the main waiting area. Thankful, I headed there. The security guard sitting outside kept coughing, sniffing, and making nasty sick sounds. I shut the door as much as I could. Warren screamed. For about an hour, Warren screamed. Then they took us to triage, took his vitals, and told us to return to the waiting room. Sigh. Another hour went by before we were taken back to a room. It was during this hour that Andrew's flight landed and he was able to join me shortly before we were taken back. We were just getting settled in our room when we were told we had to leave, a trauma was coming in and they needed our room. Seriously?? Infant head injury and you're kicking us out. What about all these people here because of a cold? Kick THEM out. We waited in the hallway for a bit, watching the craziness unfold. We were given a bed right there in the hall between 2 rooms. Seriously? Did I mention, immune compromised? Did I mention chronic lung disease? Andrew took Warren back to the little waiting room and I stayed there in the hall waiting for a room to open. Eventually it did. Then, the waiting continued. Warren fell at 7PM. It was 11 before we saw a doctor and anyone even looked at him. Thankfully, he was fine. Because, if he wasn't fine, I shudder to think of how much damage could have been done during this waiting game. I have limited experience with the ER in general, but I'm not so sure I'll be taking my kiddos back there again.
Warren checked out just fine and we headed home. Poor little guy was so exhausted after staying up till midnight that he just crashed. Didn't wake up when we got him home, didn't wake up when I changed him into clean jammies that hadn't been exposed to an onslaught of disease, didn't wake up when I changed my mind and decided he needed to sleep in our room. He didn't wake up until I woke him the following morning to eat his Valentines pink heart-shaped pancakes that I somehow thought would make up for the trauma of the night before. But, he is doing great, completely unphased by the whole ordeal. The baby gate is secured once again, and eventually I'll feel comfortable with him going up and down stairs again. We survived our first trip to the ER. Something tells me it will not be our last...