The kids played in the dirt, threw trash into the fire, searched for rocks, jumped off tree stumps, ate, played cards, you know, whatever. About 1:30 yesterday afternoon, Grant was sitting down near Nicole and her friend. It appeared as though Grant was playing in the dirt with plants and rocks. He started screaming loudly, so I ran to him, confused as to what could have happened while sitting down playing so peacefully. He yelled, "I got a brown leaf in my mouth!" I told him to spit it out, and he said he couldn't. Then he vomited a little, and I ran to get him some water. In between screams, he said he couldn't drink the water. Since Grant has a tendency to dramatize or over exaggerate at times, I wasn't the least bit concerned at this point, but he wouldn't quit screaming. I asked him to open his mouth so I could see the leaf. To my horror, Grant had a large sticker with three long prongs poking out stuck at the very back of his mouth, behind the uvula. I carried Grant to the other moms to see if they could help me get it out. One of the moms had worked in the medical field in her prior life. When she looked at Grant, she told me that I needed to take him to the E.R.
All of the moms were very concerned and begged to keep Nicole and Scotty, or accompany me back to town, but I had hope that I would be able to connect with Clint, and that he would (as he always does) come to our rescue. The last thing the ladies said as we raced out of camp was that they would pray for us.
We didn't have cell phone service for about 15 miles, most of which were unpaved and windy. I called Clint as soon as I got service, but had to leave him a message. Since I rarely call him at work, we have a code system (we should just put text messaging on his phone!): Clint answers when he can, but if I call two times back-to-back, he knows it's urgent and better find a way to answer. Clint picked up when I called back. Grant appeared to be getting enough air, but I didn't know if, at some point during our drive back, his airway would start to close. Miraculously, Grant fell asleep about ten minutes into our drive. His light snore let me know that he was still breathing. When we were half-way to the hospital, I felt a gentle reassurance that Grant was going to be OK. I was relieved and decided it would be better to slow the car down to the speed limit. (As a side note, I generally drive 5 mph under the speed limit because I get sick of rushing all of the time, and I think it is safer to drive slower. On the first half of our drive to meet Clint yesterday, Nicole said, "Wow, Mom! I am never going to forget this day. First because Grant got a sticker stuck in his mouth, and second because you are driving like Aunt Shari!")
I met Clint in the hospital parking lot. He was prepared with some equipment to extract the sticker. We laid Grant in the back of the truck, and Clint went to work. We ended up coming home to finish the job. It was such an incredible ordeal! All the way up until it was over, I still kept thinking that Grant would need general anesthesia and a pediatric ENT to get the job done.
We think the sticker is out. Clint checked with a scope, but through all of Grant's screaming and wiggles, it was hard to be sure completely. Grant has quit complaining (although just this morning he said his throat hurts if he "swallows all the way" -- I am hoping this is just from being irritated), and is eating and drinking normally. Clint is on his way to a conference in L.A. to present his latest research project, so he left me with a list of complications to watch for. So far, so good. But Clint has only been gone an hour.
All in all, we avoided the emergency room, per se, but only because of Dr. Daddy, and I'm convinced the faith and prayers of our friends. It's a very scary feeling to be driving your child to a hospital, not knowing if they'll make it there with you (whether those thoughts are founded in ignorance or reality). At that point, nothing else in the world matters. After all of the excitement was over, and the house was quiet again, I stood in my kitchen and looked around. There's not much in it, so I think I was staring off into space. But I thought about how the Lord had blessed us that day, and how much I have been blessed throughout my life. I count the people who surround me as my greatest blessings, and as someone once said, when I count my blessings, I count my family twice.
From a curiosity standpoint, Clint and I asked Grant how the sticker came to be in his mouth. He swears that a bad guy came and shoved it in his mouth, and then drove away. Grant didn't see the bad guy because his eyes were closed. Since Grant was near me when all of this occurred at camp, I know that there was no bad guy that attacked Grant and then peeled out in his getaway car. My best guess is that Grant had his mouth wide open (why?) and a strong gust of wind blew the sticker in. It's a mystery that we'll never solve. Kids just have a funny way of explaining things sometimes.
