Sorry to leave yall hangin last night. After roughly eight hours of waiting in our 9-by-11 foot prison cell in the ER, the good folks at CHLA simultaneously engaged their phonics and their telephonics and got Pablo into his own room up in 4 West. We love every person and every inch of CHLA. But I gotta say, it is truly amazing how many circles we get walked in every time we route through the ER en route to being admitted to 4 West. Jo Ann and I advocate and communicate for a living, so we're alllllll goooood to push from both ends of the admission equation. Our fave move is to directly call the person the ER says they're waiting to hear from. Nine out of 10 times, that person has not heard from ER or confirms that they are not responsible for the hold up.
We always know that this phenom is not caused by one person. And my critique of the situation is not aimed at any one person or department. CHLA is a big organization, and big organizations are prone to paralysis. Even on short, oft traveled paths like moving a kid with a well-worn CHLA frequent flyer card from the ER to a room 72 feet above.
Because Pablo has had an intermittent runny nose, he had to be put in isolation—ie, our own private room. Frankly, finding this rarest of room types was part of the hold up last night. We are in room 435, right across from the 4 West nurses station. We've been in each and every room in 4 West many times. But I think 435 might be the first room we were ever in. All the rooms look basically the same on the inside; the view from each is the defining characteristic. 435 has a narrow chunk of a view between the CHLA north tower and the CHLA research tower across sunset. The view is straight up through Los Feliz and the Griffith Park mountain. For me, it's a calming view. When I ride up there and look down, it's a zen scenario.
Jo Ann just called from CHLA. Pablo was hot through the night, but got a good night's sleep. His blood culture shows a slight infection. This is why we have to go to the hospital when P's temp is at/above 100.4. Any bacteria in P's body is a big deal when his immune system is as feeble as it is right now. But being at CHLA when the bac shows its face gives the docs lightning fast response time. He will be put on another powerful antibiotic right now, and they will continue to pull blood from his port throughout the day to monitor the situation. This is a serious sitch. But we have no reason to be alarmed.
Grady and I are heading out the door now. First stop: Intelligentsia for Jo Ann's latte. Second stop: CHLA. I'm armed with the Sunday NYT and the new Vanity Fair, and G's grabbing a few of P's fave DVDs. When we get there, Jo Ann and Grady will head home so she can shower and regroup and G can dig in on 'The Count of Monte Cristo.' I am trying to convince him to eat a Monte Cristo sandwich but he is resisting. Don't blame him. From what I recall from my Milwaukee Greek deli days, a Monte Cristo involves the deep frying of a large, meaty sandwich. And G's not buying my Animal House hazing BS. Smart kid. Now I just gotta figure out when's an appropriate time to give him the debut NWA album 'Straight Outta Compton.' Jimmy and I talked about it the other day. He thinks it's OK to give it to him now. Jimmy also started singing one of my fave lines from the album: 'Strawberry, strawberry the neighborhood.....' If you know, you know. If not, I ain't gettin into it here on this family-oriented blog. G will be 15 in six weeks (18 April), so it's time to kick up our cultural guidance a notch or two. You know, so he learns about cool stuff at home, not on the street...or whatever they say.
Getting back to today. When Jo Ann returns to CHLA in the early aft, I'm heading to the office. Have a feeling my inventory of work hours will be truncated this week. And, as I am fond of saying, s**t rolls downhill...so I better get ahead on my workload while I can.