Rocco had a slumber party on Saturday, and you know how those things go—the kids commandeer every pillow and blanket in the house, eat all the Skittles, go to bed way too late, and your husband wakes up at midnight and has to go to the ER for emergency surgery. We’ve all been there, right?
At midnight, Kevin was having a lot of chest pain, then he started sweating and vomiting. We called 911, which sent out a few fire fighters who didn’t think it was a big enough deal to call an ambulance but did think it was a big enough deal to leave seven children unattended and go to the ER. I woke Vincenzo up to tell him where we were going in case anyone needed me. He looked at us, nodded, said he was wide awake and understood, and in the morning had no recollection of the conversation. (Turns out he had taken a Nyquil because it was too hot to sleep, which led to a whole different conversation.)
At the hospital the nurse ordered an ultrasound of Kevin’s gallbladder. The sonographer measured something on the computer and labeled it “neck,” then drew an arrow at another thing and labeled it, “head,” and then I sat up straight and said, “Kevin, we still have the crib in storage, right?” The sonographer didn’t even look up, even though Kevin kept groaning and curling up into the fetal position and it was clear he was in labor.
I went home to sleep wile he waited for results. I was hoping for another boy, but the sonographer told me it was a gallbladder. The nursing staff told Kevin it was a good thing his daughter went home because he’ll be staying overnight.
Kevin texted an hour later. Infected gall bladder. They’re taking it out tomorrow lol
The gallbladder, as everyone knows, stores bile to break down fats in the body. Like say if someone went to the movies and ate a whole thing of popcorn with extra butter, then a few pieces of Domino’s pizza, then cake and ice cream, hypothetically speaking, the gallbladder would jump into action. Kevin’s gallbladder was infected because he got a gallstone, and his body happens to make super-sized gallstones, which is just great because now he’s going to be bragging to everyone about the size of his gallstones.
Anyway, he sent me the text and I texted back some prayer hand emojis and a gif of the game Operation, which is my way of saying, “I love you, I hope you’re not in pain, and please don’t die because the thermostat is flashing an error message and I’ll never figure it out on my own.”
Kevin’s dad spent the day with him at the hospital while I finished up the slumber party and scrolled through gall bladder gifs (of which there are a surprising amount). I barely had time to send them though because Kevin was home by 1, explaining how they put mini scissors through one hole in his abdomen, a mini camera into another, and then they pulled the gall bladder out through his belly button. I patted his knee and pretended to believe it all, as you do when young children or drunk people tell you crazy things their friends said that they believe are definitely true.
Since he was home I cut off his his tags.
Did he make finger quotes when he said his name? Did he say it sarcastically? Did they think he was really a young Rodney Dangerfield?
(Kevin the one on the right.)
Before driving off, his dad told me that “Kevin” (if that even is his name) is not allowed to shower for a couple days. As soon as I tucked him in bed, he started asking for a sponge bath. I don’t know if he’s going to get one, but I do know I’m not letting him go to slumber parties anytime soon.
Some people just can’t handle them.
WHAT’S COOKIN’ 2NITE:
Southwest chicken salad
Just a couple lines of writing to
make it look like there’s more.