Today was spent at The Hospital.
Not The Hospital whose Emergency Room I dropped The Younger off at. No. That Hospital does not have a pediatric section, so The Younger was transported to a different Hospital during the wee morning hours.
Now, as kitchen magnets go, these are tiny. Think of a push pin, one used to tack notices up to a bulletin board, but instead of a metal pin sticking out of it, it has a small round magnet to hold it to a refridgerator. We're talking something about 1/8″–1/4″ across.
And he only swallowed the magnet part, not the push pin part. Just the magnet part.
It was suggested by the doctors last night that The Younger might have pica which is a persistent craving for non-food like items.
Oh, and he also got a stomach flu, as if things weren't bad enough.
So anyway, today was spent at The Hospital.
The Younger was sent through X-ray enough times that he no longer needs a nightlight and the reason for the multiple X-rays throughout the day was to track the movement of the two magnets. The concern was if the two magnets attract each other in different parts of the intestines and lodge themselves against the intestine wall. Fortunately, the X-rays showed that not only where they progressing down his system, but they had already attracted to each other and travelling as one unit if I understood it correctly.
So, once the magnets are flushed from his system, The Younger can then return back home.
Since The Younger and Spring were transported to The Hospital from The Emergency Room via ambulance, Spring's car was still at The Emergency Room. I worked out a plan whereby Smirk would pick me up at The Hospital, drive me to The Emergency Room, whereby I would drive Spring's car back to the Hospital, then I would drive back home to get some sleep so I could go to work tomorrow.
Around 11:30 pm or so, Smirk calls me on my cell phone to say he's outside the main entrance to The Hospital. The main entrance to The Hospital is this large revolving door (it has motion detectors, and will start moving automatically). I nearly smack into the thing trying to walk outside.
It's not moving.
I try pushing it on the sign that says “Don't Push” but it won't budge. In fine print, the sign mentions something about the handicapped doors to either side of the revolving door. So I pick the one to the right, and try to go out.
It doesn't budge.
Nearby is a large flat disk with a stylized wheelchair and the words “Open Door” on it (or something to that effect—I don't recall exactly). It's made to be pressed, and I press it. I hear this light buzzing noise, only the door isn't opening. I try pushing the handicapped door, but it still doesn't budge.
Neither does the one to the left of the revolving door.
Through the windows, I can see Smirk's vehicle.
I try all three egresses again, pushing and shoving and otherwise trying to get to the other side of the doors.
Then I call Smirk on the cell phone, to inform him that I'm having some difficulty in leaving The Hospital. Through his laughter I'm told that he's seen my difficulty and suggests meeting him outside this Hospital's Emergency Room.