Good Morning, CCH

We first arrived at Cincinnati Children's Hospital 5 minutes before we were supposed to at 7:40am this morning for our appointment.   In the elevator we rode with a Mom and her 10ish year old son, said our polite "hellos", and coincidentally headed for the same place.    Emma, Sarah, and I had a seat in the kid friendly but sterile feeling waiting room.   The other Mom walked up to a self check in kiosk and started inputting her info.    I sit and observe, knowing that learning the drill at a new hospital helps things go smoothly.   There were 3 check in windows with name tags, computers, the whole works sitting empty.   Why have someone arrive 15 minutes early when we will then get there before all the staff?   After attempting to do my own kiosk check in and being told "unable to process, see a staff" I had a seat to wait, and wait, and wait.   We watched the half awake registry clerk don a glove, grab some wipes, and proceed to wipe down her entire work area.   I am glad CCH is conscientious about germs and preventing them from spreading, but why aren't the staff arriving before the scheduled patients arrival?   After watching her half heartedly wipe the important things (like the pen, electronic signature pad and pen) and vigorously wipe her keyboard, she proceeded to stand and wave a clipboard at her work area to expedite its drying.   Ten minutes later and after asking her co-worker to use her comb, we sit and wait, not once did she acknowledge our presence or say "I'll be right with you".    Fortunately, I was too tired to get flustered or impatient.   She calls me to the window, we get Bean checked in, and sit back to continue waiting.   Our 7:45 arrival for our 8am appointment involved waiting until 8:20 in the lobby and 8:45 in the room. 

The first person to greet us in the room is an SLP.   She comes in and hands me a clipboard with forms to fill out.   Mind you, I had spent at least an hour on the phone with a nurse who input Emma's extensive medical history into their charts, but no - time to fill them out again.   It's not easy to remember when and what happened specifically for each surgery.   Dates, docs, procedures take up so much space in my head, but when you've already waited an hour to see someone your minds hard drive tends to be on slow upload.    I could continue with this part of the day, but it would be nothing but more frustrations with people popping in, asking for more forms, and telling me someone would be right back to help.

Eventually (after 9am) we get to the meat of the appointment.   A wonderful nurse comes is and introduces herself (the first one to address Emma before me) and asks who Sarah is.    Said wonderful nurse (let's call her Jan) then makes some nice humorous comments about 10 people before her coming in and pestering us and lightens the mood remarkably.   She proceeds to spray a numbing agent in Emma's nose to prep her for her scopes.

Jan takes us down the hall to a procedure room decked out with every piece of equipment ever invented to assess, record, and replay anything to do with vocalizations.    To this point, despite having seen 10 people, there is no mention of the illusive doctor or when we should anticipate his arrival.   Jan takes a back seat as the SLP (who I am not overly impressed with) starts to talk to Emma about what she expects her to do.   Jan has already made mention that she knows how to deal with "determined" kids as I warned her about Emma's lack of exuberant participation with awake scopes in the past.   Jan was relieved when I told her I anticipated she would need to use a  "stern firm" tone if Emma started to resist.    She said that would be no problem, as she is the Mom of several teenage boys.

Jan wonderfully handled Emma and her failed attempt to stall.  Jan immediately told Emma "you can't fool me, I've seen better stall tactics than that!   Let's go girlie, the sooner you cooperate the sooner we can get this done."    I DO appreciate a nurse who tells it like it is!   With Jan's insistence that Emma cooperate in a timely manner something amazing happened.   Emma cooperated, in a timely manner!   Not only did it go well, it went so well that Emma actually giggled when the camera was down her throat.   At some point in this story, the doc had slid into the room.   No introduction, no hello, just jumped in and took over.    If he weren't young and fairly attractive there would be an additional paragraph venting about the doc.   Good thing he shortly after redeemed himself and impressed me as well.

We know now that he has seen several patients (dare I say many) who have histories very similar to Emma's.    It was nice to know she is not the only kid in the US who has a voice like hers (or an airway like hers).   He confirmed the false vocal cord will need to be removed and that she will indeed experience "significant vocal changes" when that happens.   He is not overly optimistic that her vocal cords will ever function and thinks as she heals and starts to try and speak again that she will again develop a flap of skin (false vocal cord / vocal fold) that she uses to speak.   It may again obstruct her airway in the future, but it's a "wait and see" moment.

We finally got to leave after having Emma's voice recorded as a baseline for future comparison.     There was no, "thanks for coming, nice to meet you, kiss my butt" or anything said to us, just "you're all set.  Bye".    No paperwork to take to the front desk, nothing to take home except a copy of the release they wanted signed to allow for Emma's data to be included in a clinical trial.   The majority of the appointment felt totally odd.  

In contrast to the dead quiet we found when we arrived that morning, as we departed the hospital was now crawling with people.   Adorable, cute kids everywhere.   Kids in some of the fanciest wheelchairs I've ever seen, bald kids that looked to be getting chemo, adorable micro babies in strollers with Apnea monitors and oxygen tanks.   The hospital was now overflowing with life.

I am left to wonder if my first impression was altered as it seemed like a ghost town when we arrived, there was no one at the security/information desk to "give you the eye" as you walked by.   No one (timely) at the check in desk, no good mornings or standard greetings from any staff.   If it weren't for my observations of all the wonderful kids on the way out, I wonder what impression I would be left with.

It was a long drive down, a long drive home.   At about 9:40am the pilot that was scheduled to return us home called and left a voicemail saying there would be no flying due to the weather.   Not only was I going to have to drive, he said I would be going through some heavy duty thunderstorms.   He was right.   Sarah kept me company and made a super co-pilot as Emma curled up with a blanket and slept through one of Nature's more impressive storms.   Not too far North of Dayton the weather cleared some and we had an uneventful albeit cloudy remainder of the drive.

We return to Cincinnati next Monday for another 7:45am arrival at the hospital on Tuesday.   Let's hope someone finds it in their heart to say "good morning" when we arrive.

Giant Windmills on the highway

View of Cinci from the room at the Radisson.   NEVER again, awful location just by the highway.  Nothing but Jake Brakes all night!