Hospital visits are fun…
Like the time when you (Joel) had eaten so much popcorn you got a stomach ache, the pain was so excruciating (as soon as it was time for bed, you literally couldn’t walk….
tears streamed, howls were made at the moon. It was quite traumatic for Kimmy especially who had never witnessed such a thing. My hardened parental instincts told me better, we weren’t buying this act! You were asleep in minutes and I was convinced I had won the war…. 20 mins later you were at it again… screaming about this pain that was sure to be the end of your life on earth, I was now in uncharted territory, too afraid to call your bluff, surely this was real.
It was time for the hospital.
We exit the house in a spectacular fashion, as if a tidal wave is descending upon our location, there is screaming and running, and although I realise I do not have my wallet, I know that I cannot turn back…your death is imminent!
As I tear around the corners, you writhe in pain on the passenger seat, it’s the longest 5 km I’ve ever driven. We arrive at the hospital, as if you have been shot. The panic is very evident on my face and I’m ushered through to the casualty with haste, you in my arms, suddenly quiet at the change of scenery.
The doc prods and feels, you remain quiet, he suggest an X-ray, I agree, whatever it takes…we go…through the corridors, you suddenly asking lots of questions and are much less critical, you might actually live.
Once you are inside the X-ray room, the gravity of the situation hits you. And me. I don’t like these places, I have spent too much time in them already. You look at me with big eyes.
A loud noise erupts from your butt. Relief washes over your face.
You look at me with pride and say, “we can go home now dad, it was just a fart”.
We return home…
Me …R1500 poorer, 10 years older
You… chatty, and quite hungry actually.