Crazy Hospital Pickup

Recently, I was honored to go and pick up my neighbor who had a cyst removed the size of a grapefruit.  She was in a hospital about 45 minutes away.  Her husband, 4 year old and 2 year old sons had stayed with her.  Their only mode of transportation is a motorcycle.  So our mobile was a treat. 

The first funny incident, was my neighbor’s hospital roommate.  She had a sweetly wrapped newborn in a pink blanket laying quietly in the basinet.  As the belongings were being gathered and carried to the car I jokingly teased the mother of the newborn that I would carry her baby to my car too.  And honestly there was this Mommy desire inside of me that desired for just a moment, a snuggly baby and a GIRL too.  Five minutes later, as I was helping my neighbor into the wheelchair I glanced across to the basinet where the grandmother was changing the diaper on the little one wrapped in pink.  To my surprise and humor, that little one wrapped in pink, should have been wrapped in blue.  The “girl” was a BOY.  I was instantly perfectly content with no baby.

The scary part of this hospital pick up was what happened next.  Probably 20 minutes had clicked by from the time I arrived until the patient was ready to transfer from the wheelchair into my car.  Meanwhile the husband and oldest son were carrying things to the car. I didn’t think too much about it when the boy didn’t return back to the room for more things.  I just thought, “Oh, he is in the hallway waiting for his Daddy.”  As my neighbor is sitting in the wheelchair at the curb, I run to move the black car closer.  I see a little head inside the car.  I open the doors and see Mr. 4 year old covered in sweat.  The interior of the car is roasting. Well over 100 plus degrees Fahrenheit.   My heart skips a beat and my stomach flips as I comprehend that he was innocently left in the car on a hot tropical day.  As the engine roars to life, I flip the newly fixed a/c onto full power.  And rejoice that this little boy is still alive.  I make a mental note to have a chat with his Dad at a later date about children never being left inside vehicles.  It makes sense that he would not know this.  Motor cycles are their form of transportation.

To complete this adventurous hospital pick up, I am helping Mom into her home.  She is now stooped over from abdominal incisional pain.  As I wave good bye, she calls out, “Oh Mam, do you want to see my cyst?”  “SURE!”  She rummages around in what looks like a diaper bag and pulls out a plastic IV bottle, inside is revealed the grapefruit smooth size cyst.  I jokingly tease them that they are going to eat it for super. They laugh and laugh. They admit that they will bury it in the yard.  Part of the complete package of care. 

That was life in Papua, in just one hospital pick up.  Surprising.  Always keeping me on my toes.  The unexpected coming out of the expected.  Unpredictable. And loads of fun.