The holidays are eating into my blog-time. I've been spending time in crowded stores but finding little to buy. For a few hours last week I was in a rage about middle-aged nerds that stakeout retail stores to buy up all of the popular toys before parents can so they can resell them at a profit. I looked online but refuse to pay the inflated prices, even if it means my son doesn't get the toys on Christmas.
My son really wants "Ben 10" toys but they are wiped out everywhere. After days of searching, I finally hit the toy store at the right time and found some. I took what I wanted and even left a bunch behind. I probably could have bought them all and made a fast $50 reselling them myself, but that would mean I had become what I hate so I left them for some other desperate parent or friendless nerd.
I even went to the mall in an attempt to find my wife some clothes. Here is a conversation I heard at The Gap:
Customer: "Where can I find that cream-colored shirt up there in your display?"
Store Clerk: "Um... that's not a shirt. It's a bare manequin."
Customer: (After a long awkward pause) Where do you keep your other cream-colored shirts?"
So ladies, the "naked manequin" look is officially IN. Get out there and paint it on.
On Saturday night, I was at work moving mattresses when my boss came up to me and told me my wife was trying to get ahold of me. After a long game of phone tag, I got ahold of my mother-in-law who told my that my wife had taken Ethan to the emergency room at the hospital.
The kids had gone to a Christmas play with my in-laws and when it ended, they said Ethan turned a fantastic shade of green and looked like he was going to throw up. He said he just needed a drink. Moments later his eyes rolled up and he passed out before a very large audience. My wife yelled for someone to call 911 three times before someone actually did. They laid him down. Inspired by the church/Christmas atmosphere, they prayed for him. They said his eyes popped open, but he was still out of it. They tried to give him water but it just dribbled down his chin. He passed out again before the paramedics arrived.
The EMT's checked him out and didn't know what to make of it, so they recommended that he go to the hospital. My wife hadn't actually called me, it was her Aunt Dianne that called. I went to my boss and prepared my plea, "I have already worked 50 hours this week. Would it be okay if I went home early tonight?" He seemed to know the story already, even though he hadn't given me any of the details. He just told me to go.
I hurried to the hospital where I was subjected to the standard "30 minutes of waiting for no good reason" in the lobby before the desk dude finally remembered I was there and let me see my son. When I saw him he was up smiling, laughing and bouncing around. His normal self.
They had done blood tests and an EKG to make sure his heart wasn't going to explode or anything. After another hour or so, the doctors gave us their final diagnosis: "We have no idea what caused him to turn color and pass out. You'll get a bill in the mail." They guessed that maybe he had just sat too long and then stood up too fast. But that doesn't really account for his green complexion.
I really wish I could have rode in the ambulance, being as I have to pay for it. But I do feel fortunate for Ethan's condition: Inconclusion is much better than a terminal conclusion. I asked Ethan what he had eaten and he admitted to eating some dirty snow, but that doesn't seem like enough.
Later, I asked my wife: "Do you think this would have happened if you hadn't gone to the play? Did someone there have noxious breath or anything?"
She said, "I guess it would have happened one way or the other. It was hot at the play but he took off his coat. He sat on Dianne's lap so he could see the play better."
I joked, "Oh, so it was Dianne with the noxious breath."
For the record, Dianne is a very nice lady and I have never known her breath to be anything but pleasant. But Ethan seems normal again so we will have his regular doctor check him out a little and go from there. Maybe Santa will bring me Health Insurance for Christmas, preferably a plan that covers Intermountain Health Care and their affiliated doctors. I've been ever so good this year.