All I could hear were the words awake and well and feeling much better.
“How did that happen? Didn’t he just get the new insulin pump?” I said, confused and a little angry.
That thing was supposed to make life easier for him.
Make him play like a normal kid and not have him poke his damn finger every time to check his blood. And to avoid those fucking insulin shots which I knew hurt him every damn time I had to give one to him.
“Yes, and that’s where I have to apologize to you. The new pump must’ve had a malfunction. We’ve looked into it and found what the problem was. We’ll have to call back the nine other patients we gave a new pump to as well, just in case theirs have issues too. I’m very sorry this happened, but I can promise you that he’s doing better,” he said with an apologetic look.
He was a doctor, and there was no reason for me to be mad at him.
He didn’t create that pump, and if anything, I’d have to sue the damn company that manufactured them.
I gave him a quick nod and looked past him again. “Can I see him now?” I asked quietly, slowly losing my patience.
“Of course. Take all the time you need. If you intend on sleeping here, there’s a second bed for you. We’ll be back to check on him in the morning.”
I quickly walked into the room to see Ira sitting on the bed with an infusion of some fluid hooked to his hand in which he was holding a banana, eating it slowly.
“Hey, bud. How are you feeling?” I said, sitting down on the side of his bed and brushing through his wild hair while tears stung my eyes.
Before he could reply, the nurse checking the monitor next to his bed smiled at us and said, “He’s been very brave, just like his favorite superheroes,” she said.
I wanted to smile, but it didn’t turn out as I wanted it to.
Of course he had told them all about his favorite superheroes already. “Has he been up for long?” I asked.
“About forty minutes now. As he lapsed into the diabetic coma, we had to improve his fluid levels in his body. He’s getting phosphate into his body to raise that level as well, and the banana is great to help with his low potassium level,” she explained, telling me much more than Dr. Cole had.
He probably felt like shit letting a four-year-old try out a new pump.
I nodded at her, then looked back at Ira who still looked a little weak, but that must’ve been the tiredness.
“Are you feeling okay?” I asked again, holding his other hand and squeezing it gently.
“I’m okay,” he said, unfazed by the fact that he was at the hospital.
Maybe it didn’t hit him yet.
“Will he still get a pump?” I asked, unsure if I’d want him to get the old one back in case the same shit happened.
Insulin pumps were supposed to take care of the blood sugar, not make a damn mess and put my kid into a diabetic coma.
“Dr. Cole will talk to you about this later today. For now, we gave him the needed insulin and will check in on him every hour to see where it’s at,” the nurse said.
She must’ve been around my age, and the way she looked at us told me that she had kids of her own, knowing what it feels like to worry about your child.
“Patients who lapse into a diabetic coma are quickly back on their feet the moment their bodies get what they need. Don’t worry, he’ll be out of here no later than lunch time.”
I smiled at her, this time managing a real one that met my eyes.
“That’s good news. Thank you,” I said, looking back at Ira as she left the room.
“I was so worried, buddy. But you were so strong and brave,” I praised, caressing his cheek and letting out a relieved sigh.
“Does your belly still hurt?” I asked, but he shook his head and took another bite of his banana.
“Rooney!” he called out, and I turned around to see her standing there with her arms loosely crossed in front of her, and a soft, gentle smile on her face.
“Hey, little man. How are you feeling?” she asked.
“I’m okay,” he said, holding up his banana. “They gave me a banana.”
“Is it good?” she asked, and the kind, sweet boy he was, he held