Do you all remember when Tommy broke his arm?
On Saturday afternoon, Lizzie took a turn -- except that it was a much different (WORSE) experience in every way.
We were at the park; I was chatting with another mom, Tommy was playing soccer and Lizzie was playing on the new pirate ship structure, when all of a sudden I heard horrible screaming. I said to the other mom, "that's not Lizzie?" and she said, "IT'S LIZZIE, IT'S LIZZIE" at the same time. So I sprinted over to her and found her lying on the ground beside the slide with a bunch of other moms (the type who stay near their children while they play) surrounding her. I was so panicked that I didn't even really register that they were telling me she'd broken her arm, and I just sort of scooped her up and headed away.
Of course we had scooted to the park so I immediately called Eli and told him to come pick us up and amazingly he was already in his car (driving out to site for a very important meeting he had to ditch). It took him 13 minutes to reach us but it felt like an eternity.
[During these 13 minutes, Lizzie was repeatedly cried: "It's all my fault! You TOLD me never to climb up the slide! You told me! And now I broke my arm and it's all my fault!!"]
He arrived and we went to Muscat Private Hospital. Non-Omani people are not admitted to government hospitals, so we always have to go to private hospitals -- at least to begin the process of referral/admission to government hospitals.
The picture below is waiting for X-ray at Muscat Private. The twenty minutes we were in that X-ray room were some of the worst minutes in my life. She was in HORRIBLE PAIN and the X-ray technician was possibly not experienced. So they put the arm out 'straight' -- due to the break it was actually 'z' shaped -- while Lizzie screamed and screamed. (I felt like a horrible person because I had told her that X-rays were just photos, they didn't hurt.) So the woman finally got the machine in position and it STOPPED WORKING. So they had to get another one (all this time Lizzie is still screaming) and finally they got it to work.
After the X-ray, we went back up to the Emergency Room and waited for about twenty minutes for the doctor to come tell us that they couldn't treat her break at Muscat Private, and he would refer her to Khoula. This was the best thing that could have happened, but of course we didn't know that and spent the drive to Khoula debating whether we should drive to Dubai. Lizzie had endured enough at that point and was sleeping.
We went to Khoula and when we arrived were very uncertain about the decision. Most places we go in Oman feel very expat oriented -- the signs, for example, are in English -- but this hospital was not that way. At the entry, there were separate waiting rooms for men and women and as far as we could tell, only Omani people. But then, Lizzie and I were shown into the trauma unit (Eli was parking the car) and I leaned over to her and whispered "Lizzie! It's a proper hospital! I'm so relieved!" Then Eli came in and said, "It feels very proper in here doesn't it?" We had three doctors and two nurses with us almost immediately. They gave Lizzie the sling you see in the photo below -- which actually helped her feel better -- and then told us we had to get X-rays done there.
I'm sure you can imagine her reaction, particularly given her dramatic tendencies.
But you know what? This time the X-rays were fine. The technician knew exactly how to position her and they were done in a second and we went back to the ER, where Lizzie experienced the joy of having an IV put into her hand. I won't say she was perfect while it was inserted but she was close. (I could tell the nurse was really nervous which probably didn't help Lizzie, but if it helped the nurse get it right on the first try then I don't care.)
The next thing that happened is I called Dina (to discuss surgeons) from the foyer and all of a sudden I heard Lizzie screaming. Through the very thick doors. The doctors had chosen that moment to give her ketamine and position her arm. This positioning was done by three men using a fair amount of strength.
The ketamine made her feel very strange and the first thing she said to us was, "You look like aliens." Then she told us we had four eyes. She also told us her arm was much more comfortable after the adjustment and the backslab soft cast, which was a relief.
After they positioned her arm, they moved us to the Pediatric Surgical Ward. The PSW was not nearly as nice as the ER. We were in a room with eight beds, and a television showing VERY loud cartoons in Arabic. I asked if we could turn it off and the nurse handed me the remote, so that was nice. It was 10pm and all the kids were awake and there was a family having a picnic in the hall (my friend who is a doctor said this makes sense as many families from the interior receive treatment here and have nowhere else to go while their kids are treated). Anyway, it was nuts and it felt pretty disorienting. Almost immediately, the nurses started prepping Lizzie for surgery which involved removing her fingernail and toenail polish -- and of course that really upset her.
Eli went home to get Tommy sorted out (he was spending the night with a friend but needed clothes and his backpack for the morning) and to bring things back for us, and so when we left for surgery he wasn't there. They positioned Lizzie so that I could talk to her until they were ready to take her back and we had the following conversation:
Me: "Okay, so when you're feeling scared, what are you going to think about? What's the happy thing you're going to think about? The Lake? Laramie? Seattle? What's the happiest thing in your life?"
And without a pause, she said, "you."
So that's the nicest thing anyone's ever said to me, for sure.
After she went into surgery, Eli arrived. So did some friends (Jesal and Mithu) who were at dinner and saw my messages on their way home. They waited the whole time -- nearly two hours -- and kept us distracted and entertained. It was so amazing of them. They also were very reassuring about the hospital. And the next morning she had someone review all the X-rays and call me and rave about the result of the surgery.
What did I learn? When your friends have a kid in the hospital, you should go see them. Dina and Greg showed up between seeing patients of their own; Ericka brought lunch for Eli and me. Everyone brought gifts for Lizzie. It was amazing. We were totally loved and supported.
ANYWAY, after surgery she slept from about 2:30 until 5:30 when she woke up in pain. We spent the day in the ward, seeing doctors and taking pain medication and having friends visit us, and then we were discharged around 6:30pm. YAY!
She is home now and doing really well, as long as the television is on. If I turn it off, she complains about her arm hurting...
On Saturday afternoon, Lizzie took a turn -- except that it was a much different (WORSE) experience in every way.
We were at the park; I was chatting with another mom, Tommy was playing soccer and Lizzie was playing on the new pirate ship structure, when all of a sudden I heard horrible screaming. I said to the other mom, "that's not Lizzie?" and she said, "IT'S LIZZIE, IT'S LIZZIE" at the same time. So I sprinted over to her and found her lying on the ground beside the slide with a bunch of other moms (the type who stay near their children while they play) surrounding her. I was so panicked that I didn't even really register that they were telling me she'd broken her arm, and I just sort of scooped her up and headed away.
Of course we had scooted to the park so I immediately called Eli and told him to come pick us up and amazingly he was already in his car (driving out to site for a very important meeting he had to ditch). It took him 13 minutes to reach us but it felt like an eternity.
[During these 13 minutes, Lizzie was repeatedly cried: "It's all my fault! You TOLD me never to climb up the slide! You told me! And now I broke my arm and it's all my fault!!"]
He arrived and we went to Muscat Private Hospital. Non-Omani people are not admitted to government hospitals, so we always have to go to private hospitals -- at least to begin the process of referral/admission to government hospitals.
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| Earlier in the day, at Shake Shack before going to see the new chipmunks movie for the second time. |
The picture below is waiting for X-ray at Muscat Private. The twenty minutes we were in that X-ray room were some of the worst minutes in my life. She was in HORRIBLE PAIN and the X-ray technician was possibly not experienced. So they put the arm out 'straight' -- due to the break it was actually 'z' shaped -- while Lizzie screamed and screamed. (I felt like a horrible person because I had told her that X-rays were just photos, they didn't hurt.) So the woman finally got the machine in position and it STOPPED WORKING. So they had to get another one (all this time Lizzie is still screaming) and finally they got it to work.
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| Only I was allowed to touch and hold her until I suggested that Eli might not hurt her arm if he took a turn. |
We went to Khoula and when we arrived were very uncertain about the decision. Most places we go in Oman feel very expat oriented -- the signs, for example, are in English -- but this hospital was not that way. At the entry, there were separate waiting rooms for men and women and as far as we could tell, only Omani people. But then, Lizzie and I were shown into the trauma unit (Eli was parking the car) and I leaned over to her and whispered "Lizzie! It's a proper hospital! I'm so relieved!" Then Eli came in and said, "It feels very proper in here doesn't it?" We had three doctors and two nurses with us almost immediately. They gave Lizzie the sling you see in the photo below -- which actually helped her feel better -- and then told us we had to get X-rays done there.
I'm sure you can imagine her reaction, particularly given her dramatic tendencies.
But you know what? This time the X-rays were fine. The technician knew exactly how to position her and they were done in a second and we went back to the ER, where Lizzie experienced the joy of having an IV put into her hand. I won't say she was perfect while it was inserted but she was close. (I could tell the nurse was really nervous which probably didn't help Lizzie, but if it helped the nurse get it right on the first try then I don't care.)
The next thing that happened is I called Dina (to discuss surgeons) from the foyer and all of a sudden I heard Lizzie screaming. Through the very thick doors. The doctors had chosen that moment to give her ketamine and position her arm. This positioning was done by three men using a fair amount of strength.
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After they positioned her arm, they moved us to the Pediatric Surgical Ward. The PSW was not nearly as nice as the ER. We were in a room with eight beds, and a television showing VERY loud cartoons in Arabic. I asked if we could turn it off and the nurse handed me the remote, so that was nice. It was 10pm and all the kids were awake and there was a family having a picnic in the hall (my friend who is a doctor said this makes sense as many families from the interior receive treatment here and have nowhere else to go while their kids are treated). Anyway, it was nuts and it felt pretty disorienting. Almost immediately, the nurses started prepping Lizzie for surgery which involved removing her fingernail and toenail polish -- and of course that really upset her.
Eli went home to get Tommy sorted out (he was spending the night with a friend but needed clothes and his backpack for the morning) and to bring things back for us, and so when we left for surgery he wasn't there. They positioned Lizzie so that I could talk to her until they were ready to take her back and we had the following conversation:
Me: "Okay, so when you're feeling scared, what are you going to think about? What's the happy thing you're going to think about? The Lake? Laramie? Seattle? What's the happiest thing in your life?"
And without a pause, she said, "you."
So that's the nicest thing anyone's ever said to me, for sure.
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What did I learn? When your friends have a kid in the hospital, you should go see them. Dina and Greg showed up between seeing patients of their own; Ericka brought lunch for Eli and me. Everyone brought gifts for Lizzie. It was amazing. We were totally loved and supported.
ANYWAY, after surgery she slept from about 2:30 until 5:30 when she woke up in pain. We spent the day in the ward, seeing doctors and taking pain medication and having friends visit us, and then we were discharged around 6:30pm. YAY!
She is home now and doing really well, as long as the television is on. If I turn it off, she complains about her arm hurting...
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| Another first: I parked like an Omani! So proud. |
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