23. The Foreseeable Future - rattlesnake bite PT.3

We settled quickly into the cramped room. I tried to find my place nearest Sylvia while the nurses encompassed the bed. I hovered at the foot, waiting for my shot to get in there. 

"Los Vatos Locos," he said under his breath to his peers across the bed. He cradled her clubbed foot back and forth to take measurements. The bloat was immediately alarming. The medical staff poked and prodded Sylvia's leg just as the previous group had. They made their own blue line two inches above the previous line, just below the knee. She didn't flinch.

"What is that?" I asked in a soft voice. My knowledge of the Spanish language was fading with age.

He laughed, half embarrassed he said it. "Los Vatos Loco? It's a gang. They get a tattoo like this in prison," He pointed to the three black marks of blood in the shape of a triangle. I found that amusing for some odd reason.

This round they noted the time along with the contour lines. The male nurse expressed frustration to that the previous staff had failed to note any times along their markings.

"I have photos!" I said excitedly.

"You do?" his head jerked my direction as if he had forgotten we were there.

Every time the staff has come in to make a mark, I had taken a photo. I don't know why I did it. It's a habit. I'm a photographer, it's what I do. The blue lines seemed especially significant.

"Smart mom! That was a great idea!"

The faintest recognition made me feel slightly less helpless. The nurses and I went through each line from bottom to top and gave them the appropriate stamp to each marking. The numbers all seemed so insignificant; as if time stopped so long ago it simply didn't make sense to me anymore.

There was a lot of adjusting and settling for a long while. People rushed in and out; to and from. At some point the right side of the bed cleared and I slid into the corner where a pair of chairs were tucked under the blackened window.

I gestured to my husband as I brought both chairs closer to the bed. He sat beside me and spoke softly to Sylvia. She stared straight ahead unblinking. I hadn't realized that someone turned on the TV in the corner of the room. The Frog Princess played on mute. Sylvia was glued to the movie.

The three of us sat in silence for a moment waiting for the next wave of chaos. We took turns watching Sylvia and the TV.

Chaos arrived with the doctor sometime later. She reviewed the medical history on the chart in her hands.

"Ten vials?" she exclaimed. "That seems like a lot,"

That was not reassuring.

She looked up at the nurse who was adding another blue line to the collection. The Nurse was more put-together and told the doctor that was the correct dose. The doctor looked back at her notes and made more scribbles on the page. Based on the growth of the swelling she determined that it was time for a second dose of the anti-venom. Another ten vials. It had been over two hours since the initial dose was administered and the spread hardly slowed at all.

Besides the original introduction of her name and occupation, the ER Doctor didn't give us the time of day while she made her notes and assessments. Suddenly she looked up and said callously, "Tell me what happened," she softly nodded and listened intently as we explained how we went for a walk and our little one took off her shoe and happened to sit on a snake next to the curb.

A second nurse on her right was checking vitals. Without looking up she said quietly, "Oh, that's not the story I heard."

The doctor acknowledged her aide then her attention landed swiftly back on me.

I wasn't trying to be deceitful. I assessed the doc as someone who was direct and short on patience so I left out the story and went straight to the facts.

When nobody spoke, the nurse chimed in again. Over her shoulder, she said to the doctor, "I heard you were out hunting for scorpions," her tone felt like it was from the mouth of Regina George herself. Sugar-coated malice. But maybe that was just in my head.

"We were," I said, "on the paved trail by our house. With a dim flashlight we were looking for scorpions at the edge of the trail. We never even saw the snake. Or any scorpions."

She looked satisfied enough with the full story and gave us the run down of the procedures and timelines. We were going to be transferred again shortly to the Pediatric ICU where we would get to do this all over again. It was going to be a wait and see game. The rest was up to God and Sylvia.

This would be our home for the foreseeable future.

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