It's been pretty danged lazy around the Second Blooming house this week. Managed to get in some Spring Cleaning. Just in time for the Summer Solstice. But we did have a teeny bit of excitement.
Yesterday afternoon, while I was vacuuming under beds, Jude suddenly came in and told me he had a bad pain in his side. Now I feel I should say that the kid is not an alarmist. He's almost ridiculously stoic - never complains of pains or hurts. Nothing like his FATHER. So when he said something hurt, I had to take him seriously.
I investigated. He had been playing in the backyard, jumping rope because he heard that boxers use it as a workout, when he suddenly got a sharp pain in his side that wouldn't go away. His right side. Hmmm.
I tried to feel around on his tummy, but every time I touched the area he said it really hurt. At first I thought it was a stitch in his side from the exercise. But 45 minutes later, it had just gotten worse. I made him lay down on his bed and try to relax. He asked me "Can you sit and comfort me please?" Really. Those are the words he used. I told him that I could certainly comfort him. Sweet boy.
After about 30 more minutes, it hadn't gotten any better. I called the doctor. She thought it was probably just a gas pain of some sort, and told me to make him sit face down his his knees under him with his butt in the air- child's pose, if you know yoga. The idea was that it would shift the gas around or something else terribly scientific.
Anyway, after another 30 minutes, he wasn't any better, so I brought him into the doctor. As soon as we got into the car, Jude told me he was a little "whoozy" and that he might need to throw up. Luckily, I still hadn't cleaned out my car from camping, and we drove the entire way to the doctors with Jude clutching a large Thermos that had once been filled with vodka and lemonade. Handy.
When we got to the doctor's office, the poor boy had to walk doubled over and sit down in the elevator. The doctor had him lie on his back and she moved his knees up and down and poked and prodded around on his little abdomen. Finally, she decided that I needed to take him to the emergency room. It was either just really bad gas or...appendicitis. But she couldn't tell for sure unless his abdomen was "imaged". Ugh.
So we left the office for the short drive to Cedars- Sinai. As we were headed down the elevator, the boy...farted. A good one. By the time we reached the car, he was walking upright. By the time we got to the hospital, he was completely painfree and talking a mile a minute. Gas! I figure all that poking and prodding had loosened things up.
My favorite part of the day came when we got home. I had called Jimmy when it looked like we were going to the hospital, and he had started packing a bag to bring to us if we needed to stay the night. In the bag, he had packed for Jude - 3 pairs of pajamas, 3 pairs of underwear, 3 pairs of socks, a couple of shirts, some sweat pants, his toothbrush and toothpaste and beloved Pups and Lambie. He had packed for me - some old sweatpants that have bleach stains down the front, which I only wear when I'm cleaning house, and...a bra. That's it. Clearly, the man has priorities.
Hopefully, this will fill our emergency room quota for the summer, even though we never actually got there. Damn gas.