Seashells NOT by the seashore

This was started on Monday evening...finished on Friday.

Today was a day of first. I am used to sweet Becky (one of Evan's teachers) coming to the door to see me for some reason or another. I'm even used to her starting the conversation with "Evan is okay, but...", but I never expected the next words out of her to be what they were. "Evan has a seashell stuck in his nose."

Wait, what?

While my hands are covering my agape mouth she proceeds to tell me that it will be fine, but they are trying to extract it as we speak. Having experienced trying to extract a splitter from under his fingernail while at school, I knew this wasn't going to be pretty. I was right. I grabbed my phone, called John and ran down to the PK room. Ree (evan's other teacher) was walking around the room hand in hand with Evan as he was bouncing up and down and trying to blow the seashell out of his nose. When he saw me he excitedly said "I have a seashell for YOU, Mommy!!" So Ree and I continue to try to get him to blow out the shell. We finally resort to restraining him and trying to reach it tweezers. He wasn't having any of that. By the time we were done he was sweating, I was swearing, and nothing had been accomplished. I called the doctors office and after agreeing to see me immediately, Evan and I raced over to see Dr. Davis.

Dr Davis took a quick look, refunded me my money, and sent me to an ENT. Once I heard ENT (and an even larger copay) I became a little crazy. The final straw where I knew I was going too far, was when I squeezed one side of his nose, covered his mouth with mine, and blew. He was so shocked that he didn't even have time to cry. I think I'll include that on my mom of the year application.

We headed down to Southaven to see Dr. Cannin. His office was amazing. The staff at the desk were warm and welcoming. His waiting room was warm and bright and very homey. We were escorted back to the exam room which was covered in beautiful murals and no exam table. There was a huge bucket of dinos that Evan played the entire time. We sat in that room for close to an hour. Evan proclaimed he wanted to stay and play forever. Under my breath I said it felt like we had been there forever. Now mind you we have now spent almost 2.5 hours together dealing with this shell. I have asked him over and over in a different way each time why in the world he put a shell in his nose. I still don't have that answer.

I explained that a doctor that knows all about noses was going to check out his shell. All if the sudden Evan hears this deep voice singing a song all about him coming from behind the door. He looks at me with his eyes as big as saucers, runs to the door, opens it, takes one look at the doctor in his flannel shirt and casual pants and slams the door in his face while belly laughing. The doctor laughs right along with him. Evan decides this guy might be okay. Once inside Dr. C puts E at ease. He lets him load the device that he uses to look in his nose and ears. He talks to him about his prized shell and even high fives him for getting it up so far to which I quickly said "um, please don't condone this behavior!" Dr. C explains he can get it in office but he'll have to restrain him. He wasn't going to traumatize him but he'll probably make him upset. Since the doc was so jokey and fun Evan followed him right into the room with the real exam table, let the dr lay him down, and papoose him. They wrapped him in a blanket and Velcroed a heavy material around him. He was great until he realized he couldn't move. The smile that reaches his eyes faded and I could see the anxiety mounting. Two nurses held his head so he couldn't move. He found me with his eyes at the end of the table and start crying out my name. I couldn't help it. I started to cry. To see my child bound to where he couldn't move and wanting me to help him knowing I couldn't just tore me up. Thank heavens, that part only lasted about 3 seconds. As soon as I put my head down on his knees (so he wouldn't see me cry) he jerked his knees up while crying out very loudly. Since I got kneed in the forhead I had to pick up my head as well. Once I looked up I noticed they were already unwrapping him. Dr. C was able to pop the seashell right out of his nose using long skinny forceps. He loaded it in a treasure chest and sent us on our way. Even through all that the first thing he said was, "Can I have my spiderman sticker??" Priorities.

So 2 doctors, 3 hours, and $50 later, I was able to receive the prized treasure my son wanted to give me. 

Since then I have heard everyone's 'something stuff in the nose or ears' story. I like hearing them. It makes me feel normal. So, do you have one??