Trauma

He's sleeping now. After two visits to the ER in two days, I'm certainly not going to disturb him! This morning was so traumatic for this poor child, I shiver just remembering it. He reported to me on Friday that Thursday he had some blood in his urine and it hurt a little to pee. I told him I would make an appointment to see his doctor. Later on that same day he told me everything was fine, so I figured I could take my time in making the appointment. Saturday he began complaining of having a hard time voiding his urine. I promised to get him an appointment for sometime Monday afternoon. But, it's the weekend and we had a three year old girl in respite, so of course things won't wait until Monday. At church he came downstairs from Sunday school to report he couldn't urinate. After church we took a trip to the ER. So while everyone was enjoying the glorious late Spring weather, we were enduring a grueling wait to see a doctor replete with an epic toddler meltdown. The doctor was nice, he suspected a UTI and there was also an issue called phimosis - this is when the foreskin fuses to the head of the penis. This is what was causing the issues and making it difficult for Primero to urinate. He only had a very small opening to express his urine and because his penis was becoming swollen, he had to use his hands to press the urine out. The doctor gave him an antibiotic and referral to a urologist and sent us on our way. The little girl went home and the migraine I was battling finally left, so we just spent a quiet night in. Until it was bedtime. As the night wore on Primero became more and more agitated about having to urinate because it was becoming increasingly harder for him to expel the urine. It would collect under the foreskin and he wasn't able to get it out beyond a few dribbles and droplets. Up until midnight, I stood outside the bathroom trying to keep him calm as he tried to urinate.  He finally slept sometime around 1 am.

Our plan for today was for me to try to work in the morning, allowing Primero to rest (we already knew he wasn't going to school and had gotten a note from the ER doctor) and make an appointment for him to see the urologist. Right before I left for work I called the urologist only to find out they wouldn't see him because they don't take his state funded insurance. I left for work vowing to find someone to see Primero and soon. I didn't even make it to work and Primero was calling me. He was sobbing. "Nothing is coming out!" he was crying, choking on phlegm because of course he caught a cold the end of last week. He was panicking and I was feeling guilty for leaving him. I quickly went into work and got permission to leave, hoping to return in the afternoon. I raced home and found a very distraught and pathetic-looking Primero. After finding him his shoes and grabbing the discharge papers from the day before we headed back to the hospital. I called CHOR on the way to advise what was happening and to ask for consent to be given for treatment. Luckily, we only live 6 minutes from the hospital. Unlike yesterday we did not wait at all. Fear and pain was written all over Primero's face and I'm sure the nurses sensed the urgency of our situation. As they usually do in the ER, events unfolded slowly until the main event, which involved a very painful insertion of a catheter, Primero screaming, and quite a bit of blood. I found the urologist to be rude and uncaring, declaring Primero could and should go to school with a urine bag strapped to his leg and telling me they would perform surgery on Thursday. What?! Today is Monday!!! Before the painful procedure they had given Primero a dose of morphine which had finally taken hold, so he was in la-la-land when I walked in the room. His hospital gown was shoved up to his hips and the evidence of the trauma he was just subjected to was evident. When I was standing outside of the room listening to him scream it took every ounce of will-power to not go charging back in that room and hold his hand. The look on his face when I re-entered the exam room was heart-breaking and I just wanted to give him a hug, but I needed information from the physician's assistant and the nurse was pesting me to get the consent (the county case worker could not be located and Primero's mom was M.I.A.). After the flurry of activity died down and the case worker called with consent and to get the information she needed to get a court order for the circumcision on Thursday, I went to Primero. I tugged his gown back down to his knees and stroked his cheek. He asked for his phone and in his state, I refused to let him text anyone. Lord only knows what he would say under the influence of morphine. He didn't have a care in the world. He finally felt relief as the urine bag quickly filled. While we waited for the antibiotic to drip into his IV, the nurses showed us how to empty his bag that was taped to his lower right thigh. We were given a cream to slather on his penis and a note to be excused from school all week (I insisted) then we were on our way back home.

I can now better understand what my parents meant when they told me I would know their pain when I had my own children. Primero is not technically my son in the eyes of the law, but he is in my heart. If there had been any way for me to shoulder his pain last night and this morning, I would have gladly done it. I hate that he had to go through what he went through. My only consolation is that at least he was in a home where he felt comfortable enough to explain and describe what was happening to him. I shudder to think what he would have done, keeping silent and hiding his pain, in a house where he didn't feel comfortable enough to freely talk about his medical issue. I am also very sorry that this condition is something he has been enduring for most of his life, as the foreskin fused to the head of his penis and he didn't know that it wasn't normal. Just a side effect of foster care, I suppose. After his bladder was finally able to empty, he was in much better spirits. Knowing that the worst was over and the problem was going to be fixed for good gave him comfort. He still has to endure the circumcision, which I think he thinks is no big deal, but I'm sure he will be sore after it but nothing compared to the trauma he experienced today. Since I can't take off of work all week, Primero will be going to stay with the foster family that kept the little ones for me for most of last year (until the 3 year old got them kicked out). I wanted him to be someplace quite, but it seemed like all the foster homes were unavailable, so we will make do with what is. At least Primero is no longer in pain, thank God!