Yes ma'am, you heard me right: "LEGO up the nose."
It's Thursday evening, I'm with the boys trying to get things settled down. My parents and sister are gone, so I'm the only one with responsible eyes. Isaac is wrestling with, really more picking on, his younger brothers. After the 3rd time of asking Isaac to be more careful, I've had it, and I send him to his room to settle down--or get the wiggles out on less whinny objects.
2 minutes later he comes around the corner, huffy, teary, and upset. His nose is a little bloody, and from his jumbled-upset speech I gather that he picked at something in his nose, like a hard booger. I take him to the bathroom and wipe his nose, and he says, "It's way far down there!"
I say, "The booger?"
Isaac, "No, the LEGO! It's between my eyes!"
I'm in shock. He has never, EVER had any trouble with keeping LEGOs or other small object from his nose. I look deep into his nose. I don't see a thing. Not one thing! He reassures me that it is there, and that it is hurting. I think, "What do I do? What do I do? I'm in Bama, away from our normal doc, and it is 5:30 at night! Guess I better take him to the ER."
I get ready, I get Isaac ready, and I get the two little boys ready for someone to come home and take care of them while I'm away for the evening. My dad shows up, I promptly take the keys to the car, and me and Isaac head on to the local ER at 6 in the evening (the ER is 15 to 20 minutes away), and Dad takes charge of the little boys.
...............
At the ER they are not able to get it out. Let me repeat myself: "THEY ARE NOT ABLE TO GET IT OUT."
The PA who sees us says she'll try once, but since there is a good amount swelling she feels like she may do more harm than good if she pushes it too far.
So she tries, and she fails. During this one attempt I have to hold Isaac's head still, and a nurse has his arms. He is brave, tries to answer their questions (saying that mint is his favorite flavor of ice cream, and that he wants to be in the Marine Corps when he gets bigger), but he cries. It hurts, and I can tell.
Do you see it?
In this way zoomed version, I think I catch a glimpse of it:
They send us home (9 pm at night) with instructions to go Childrens Hospital in downtown Birmingham (45 minutes from my parents' house) and see an ENT (ears, nose, throat doc) in the special clinic. (This would be like going to Primary Children's Medical Center in Salt Lake City.) We are told by the PA that if the ENT is unable to get it in the clinic, that Isaac would need to be sedated and go into the OR for the LEGO's removal.
On the way home we stop by Chick-Fil-A for an ice cream cone.
.......................
I am a despicable human being. Truly.
Friday morning arrives, I call the ENT clinic and get a 10 appointment. I start getting ready, and try to distract Isaac from food or water--for if he needs to be sedated his stomach needs to be empty.
I start to get really nervous, and I'm trying to line all the duck in a row. Over the phone I ask Matt to call our insurance to see if we need a referral. He doesn't understand what I am saying, so I start to yell into the phone. Then hang up.
I talk to Childrens Hospital people, trying to be patient with their long-drawn out southern drawls. I just want straight answers, and they seem unable to grasp that concept (maybe I've been in the West too long?). Finally I am told that I need to call my doc in Idaho, and get a referral INCASE Isaac goes into the OR.
I call my doc, knowing it is before open hours (Idaho is an hour behind), but believing that I'll be able to talk to a nurse who knows what I need. A nurse does come on the line, I try to explain that I need a referral for the possible OR visit, but she seems to not to want to listen.
I get a, "What is up his nose?"
Me, "A LEGO."
Her, "Is it blocking his passage."
Me, "He's fine--"
Her, "--I need to ask these questions."
Me, "I'M NOT STUPID, I'M JUST POOR! WHY ARE YOU ASKING THESE QUESTIONS?!"
Her, "I need to ask them."
Me, "HE CAN BREATH, NOTHING IS BLOCKED, I just need a referral..."
This goes on, and on, it seems. She asking questions about his nose, and me literally yelling into the phone at times that I'm not a stupid mother and I know what is going on, and I'm taking him to a special clinic.
She finally says, "Yeah, I think it is a good idea to take him to the clinic."
I say, "What about the referral?"
Says responds, "What do you mean?"
I say, "The referral for the possible OR visit?!"
She says, "I don't know anything about that..."
I yell, "THEN WHAT THE HELL WAS THIS ALL ABOUT?!"
At this point she says she is going to have a doctor call me to get things straightened out. I start to cry, telling her that I am really sorry that I yelled, that I'm just having a hard time right now with one of my kids possibly going into the OR, and that it is bringing up all these feelings about my other kid who has a heart problem who will be having his 3rd heart surgery in August, and I'm just really sorry. I tell her she didn't deserve what I said, and that I hope she has a nice day.
10 minutes later I get a call from a doc in Idaho. She says she will call Childrens Hospital to see what needs to be done.
Isaac and I head out the door at 9:15 in the morning.
....................
The LEGO drama ends, without a bang.
We get into downtown Birmingham around 10, and I get a little lost, but finally make my way to Childrens Hospital.
We check into Clinic 4, the ENT speciality clinic, and wait for 10 minutes. My dad arrives to give support and help if help is needed. Isaac's name is called, we go into a room filled with charts about--you guessed it--ears, noses, and throats.
A nurse comes in, checks out the LEGO in the nose, and says removal will be really easy. A few minutes later the ENT resident comes in and puts on a fancy helmet with a light. She has me hold Isaac, and hold his arms down. A nurse behind me holds his head still. He is very brave, but says he doesn't want to get hurt. The ENT says it may hurt a little, but not bad.
With a really cool duckbill looking thing, she opens the nostril, then inserts a ity-bitty hook thing, and 30 seconds later that LEGO is free! We all cheer, and I give Isaac a fruit snack.
....................
In conclusion,
This is what I think happened. Isaac uses his mouth to build with LEGOs. He tears apart creations with lots of force, and I think this little guy just popped right up his nose by chance. I think he tried to get it, but pushed it up instead.
This is the famed LEGO, it goes to a police helicopter:
Favorite quotes of his during this ordeal: "The LEGO is between my eyes!"
"A spider web caught it in my nose, and the spider is in my tummy now!"
