Ode to a Hot Dog--A Scary Mama Moment

Hot dogs.  Lawrence could exist off hot dogs alone.  Don't even bother to heat them up for him because he likes 'em cold, right out of the refrigerator.  No bun, no ketchup, nothing.  When he's at the grocery store with me, I can't get a pack of hot dogs (or even go near the hot dog area of the store) until the end of the trip, right before the check out.  And even then, he's wailing in the grocery cart, "Eat dog!  Eat dog!" the whole rest of the trip.  He doesn't even like the grocery clerk to touch them.  Because he or she might take them away, don't you know.  Or have the audacity to put them in a grocery bag!  He continues the wailing until we get those suckers open.  Phillip doesn't even wait until getting out of the store.  He opens the pack as soon as they're scanned.  I'm a meanie.  I make him wait until we get home!

It was a run of the mill type of day. Friday, lazy morning, school in the afternoon, kid naps, business as usual. Lawrence did his usual nap and woke up around 3. He's typically a little hungry then, so I put him in his high chair.  Of course, the snack of choice was a dog.  He has fussed about me cutting the dog up ahead of time, because he likes to hold it in his little fist and eat it.  Which was fine, I suppose. Or not.  He finished the hot dog, and asked for mo' (more).  "Mo' dog. Mo' dog. Mo dog.  MO' DOG!  MO' DOG!"  You get the picture.  He's figured out that if you say what you want over and over again, getting louder each time, the thing which you want appears more quickly.  So I got mo' dog post haste. 

I gave him the second dog, then went to find a cookie.  Found one, and walked back in the dining room to put it on his tray.  Lawrence had a peculiar look on his face.  Probably would be nothing noteworthy to someone who was not his parent, but it was just weird.  He was very quiet and very still.  His eyes began to water a bit, and his face was beginning to look a bit pale.  I ran over to him and figured it out.  He wasn't breathing!  I snatched him up out of the high chair, but his feet got stuck.  I was so panic stricken that it didn't occur to me to pull out the tray first.  So I tried again, but this time, I leaned him forward to get his toes passed the tray.  I leaned him forward rather hard and his body slammed the end of the tray, right under his rib cage.  Turns out, it was the right thing to do.  The shape of the tray was just right and unknowingly, I slammed his body down with the right amount of force.  The hot dog (one-half of the not-very-chewed-up second hot dog I gave him, to be exact) came flying out of his mouth and he caught his breath! 

He never cried or anything.  He just caught his breath, asked for a "dwink" and went on his merry way.  Meanwhile I cried.  Most thankful, most relieved but still doing the what would have happened if.. thing in my head. 

The whole experience was so quiet and so terrifying.  So while I like it to be quiet once in a while, I definitely don't want it to be too quiet again!

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Sunday of that same weekend, Lawrence was running a slight temp so Phillip stayed home from church with him.  As Archie, Lydia and I were leaving church, Morgan's car came barrelling toward us in the parking lot.  She was being quite hysterical, something about Phillip.  So I went in to find him absolutely writhing on the floor of our bedroom in terrible pain.  He was in so much pain, he could hardly talk.  So I told him we would be going to the hospital.  He was in awful pain, scared, and still argued about going to the hospital.  I told him we were going, and that was that.  He was having trouble getting down the stairs.  Of course I couldn't pick him up and carry him.  So I said he could either go with me, or I would be calling an ambulance.  He didn't want to go in an ambulance, so he got the wherewithal to make it down the steps and into the car.  I'm glad Morgan happened to be there, because I don't know what I would've done with Archie and Lawrence.  I guess I would've had to leave Archie in charge and hope for the best.  Yet another time when having no family in our same city was a detriment. As it was, I took Lydia with me.  She's pretty content in the sling and easy to handle.  Plus, I wasn't sure how long we would need to be there and I was sure she'd get hungry sometime. 

I parked at the ER, ran in to get a wheel chair, and we made it in.  He was in such terrible pain he could hardly stay in the chair.  Fortunately we got a bed right away.  Turns out, he had a kidney stone.  He began feeling better after some pain meds, then worse, then more meds, then better.  And that's how our Sunday went.  Pain, then meds, then better all day long.  We left the hospital with some prescriptions and orders to drink tons of water.  He must've passed it sometime Sunday night because he stopped having the terrible pain late that night. 

Needless to say, I was glad to say farewell to that weekend and happy to see Monday!