Monday mornings are meant to be engaged with grumpy resistance, and that’s doubly true for my 12-year-old son, whose tendency is to start most mornings that way. But this Monday, fortunately, he sensed something else was afoot. He wasn’t in apparent agony but kept on saying that every move to get up or down, or to go from here to there, was painful, a continuation of a lower grade complaint that he had been making, on and off, since Saturday night.“It’s really that hard to stand-up?” I asked.
“Yes.”I can share the rest of the story because it has a happy ending, and it’s worth heeding, one parent to another.
Next up was our pediatrician. The blood work was normal, but she felt he was tender enough around his lower stomach to suspect an infected appendix and urged that he go to the ER. Over at New York Presbyterian/Weill Cornell, which has a dedicated pediatric ER, his pain worsened over the course of the day, while doctors searched for more conclusive evidence.
The ultrasound didn’t show much, except for something that looked like ET. Eventually, the MRI revealed enough inflammation for the doctors to feel like the responsible next step was to take out is appendix.
If most days are a mix of little wins and losses, pleasantness and anxiety, this was one of the days when the curtain of everyday occupation and preoccupation was yanked and I had to face the fact that, if certain things went the wrong way—if I hadn’t paid enough attention to him; if we weren’t able to see the pediatrician first thing in the morning; if the ER had been more busy or less skilled—it could have been a life-changing disaster of a day.
But it wasn’t.
My sweet little macho man had is appendix removed in the early evening. (I learned that, in fact, appendicitis is most common between the ages of 10 and 30. The pediatric surgeon described the operation as “a chip shot”—i. e. something he does with ease all the time.) And on the balance, I think we were very lucky; it wasn’t a sudden, threatening attack; instead, it came on as an unusual and unexpected pain that seemed worth heeding. And we were surrounded by goodness all day: Every single person we came in contact with at New York Presbyterian, from the docs and nurses to the transport and technicians, was professional, helpful, and pleasant. And as for Adam, well, at least he had a whole day without me busting him for too much phone time (see photo).
Once I felt like he would be fine, it became one of those days where you had to laugh through the pain and worry because, at the same time, my daughter was off to the airport to welcome an exchange student coming to stay with us for 10 days!
We ended up with two “welcome” posters in our living room.
“Welcome Mor!”
“Welcome Home, Adam!”
Eric Messinger is the editor of New York Family. He can be reached at [email protected]
