How to tell if your child is in the hospital
Posted February 04, 2018 06:21:26 When I was pregnant with my son, I made an appointment with a nurse.
As we talked, I said, “I don’t want to be late for work, but I think you’re sick and I need to get you to the hospital as soon as possible.”
When I got home, I went straight to the emergency room.
I had to call the ambulance, but the nurse wouldn’t take the call because the hospital had been evacuated.
It was one of the few times I had been hospitalized.
My child, a girl, had a massive blood clot.
It looked like an arterial in her arm.
My husband called a friend who was in the ICU, and the nurse asked him if he could get my husband to come to the ICV room.
“I have to go, but there’s no way I can make it.”
I felt guilty about it, but it was the right thing to do.
I got out of there and called the emergency services.
The doctor and nurses said they couldn’t let me stay, and then I saw a TV news report on the situation.
They told me that my son was in intensive care, and I was in shock.
I could tell the nurses were afraid for my son’s safety.
It wasn’t until I saw the news report that I realized how close we were to the worst case scenario.
The hospital’s evacuation order was for the whole building, not just for the ER.
As I watched, the nurse in charge of the ER said, I have to leave right now.
I was like, “No, I need you to stay.
I can’t go.
We can’t leave the room.”
My husband was already in the room, but he was too terrified to speak to me.
We waited another hour and a half for the emergency ambulance to arrive.
When it arrived, I walked out the door and hugged my baby girl.
“That’s OK,” she said, as tears streamed down her face.
“Don’t worry, Daddy.
We’re going to get through it.”
But the emergency doctors were not so lucky.
When the ambulance finally arrived, they were told to wait outside.
They called for a cab and told us to get on it.
They left us in the ambulance with our daughter, who was too traumatized to talk.
My son was crying uncontrollably.
I felt horrible for what they had done to him.
But I had no choice.
The doctors could have saved my child, but they had also done something to me, too.
They did not have my son with them when they arrived.
I still can’t believe what they did to my son.
They could have taken him home and let him rest and recover, but instead they kept him in the ER and drove him home alone, while my husband, who I love dearly, was too afraid to go to the ER to get him help.
They also left my daughter in the care of a friend.
She had to stay home and wait with him in his hospital room while he was in a coma.
The nurse who came to take my son home was not the same nurse who had taken him out of my arms when I went to the NICU for the first time, the day after the birth.
The nurses were not trained and didn’t understand that a baby’s heart can’t take much longer than it takes to get to the front of the NICUs to check on him.
It took more than 24 hours for the nurses to call for a second ambulance to take them to the airport, where my son would be put on a ventilator and be moved to a hospital.
The medical staff at the hospital also were not equipped to handle the demands placed on them by the nurses and other doctors who had arrived.
By the time they got to the operating room, my son had died.
My heart is broken.
It’s been almost a month since my son died, and while I have no closure, I can at least try to understand what went wrong.
The first time I had a baby, my husband had just finished an operation on his chest.
We were about to go in to the surgery room when we heard a loud knock on the door.
It turned out that the nurses had left to go get a baby.
My daughter was still in the NICM, but she and my husband were separated.
We thought we would get her in the next day or two.
But when the hospital called to say that my husband’s heart had stopped, I was so angry.
I knew that he was going to die, but my heart felt so angry I could not go through with it.
I kept crying and thinking, “If only I had taken my son to the doctors sooner, he would still be alive today.”
I wanted to go home and say to my husband: “I can’t do this