My Favorite Emergency Room Story

There was a HUGE surge in traffic to my blog on Friday (the day I published a video all about my trip to the ER), and I can only assume it’s because so many of you were concerned about my well-being and wanted to make sure I wasn’t still suffering from Bleeding Esophageal Verices (henceforth known as BEV). Especially if you’ve recently been to my house because I heard they’re contagious.

Some poor person out there actually suffering with BEV is hating me right now.

Please don’t hate me. Hate WebMD.

They’re the ones who sent me on this wild goose chase.

In all seriousness it occurred to me that most of you who watched the videos I posted last week probably thought I was serious about my trip to the ER.

Guyyyyyyyyys…I’m not THAT dramatic. It’s not like I go to the emergency room every time I run out of over-the-counter throat spray. You can’t take me so seriously.

(Lying. She’s LYING!)

Okay, so maybe it happened.

At least it’s not the most ridiculous reason a person could visit the emergency room.

Do I have a story for you!

It’s actually my favorite emergency room story. When you live in a family as large and craz—interesting as mine, there are bound to be dozens of emergency room stories to choose from in a given month.

This one takes the prize.

My mom actually mentioned this story on my Katy in a Corner Facebook page. So, I can only assume that she knew full well I could not resist the temptation to share it on my blog. If I’m wrong about that, Mama, please just let me know. And then you can share an embarrassing story about me if you’d like…with dad.

So, imagine an adorably cute, bossy little girl who is a middle child in a family of six children.

To say she is “strong-willed” is about the same as saying Honey Boo Boo is “energetic.”

An understatement.

If you ask her to have a tea party with her siblings, she’ll promptly find the plant food (poison) and feed it to them. If you ask her to sit still during class, she’ll jump out the window.

And if you ask her to hang up her coat, she’ll promptly take the wire coat hanger and, instead, SHOVE IT UP HER NOSE.

That. Happened.

Y’all, my grandparents had to take her to the emergency room to have a coat hanger surgically removed from her nose. Can you imagine? The good news is that all eight of them (my mom, her siblings and her parents) were able to travel together to the ER that day. There was extra room in the back seat; they just hung mom from the coat hook in the car.

Seriously, it’s a good thing my grandparents never asked her to clean her room, she probably would have torched the house.

THAT is my mother.

There is such irony in her chosen grandmother name, “Precious.”

The funny thing is that my mom is the opposite of a hypochondriac. Remember, she’s the one who shoved that wire coat hanger UP HER OWN NOSE, so she has a ridiculously high threshold for pain. My mom is on the opposite end of the spectrum from where I reside in the land of tea and honey (get it?). We practically have to beg her to go to the emergency room. I have to beg them not to kick me out of the ER.

So, if you put me and my mom together, we could be a normal person who would visit an ER for a normal reason.

Not because of a self-inflicted coat hanger UP THE NOSE.

Or a sore throat.

(Which is still very sore, by the way. But the tea has helped; thanks for asking.)

Is your child “strong-willed” enough to shove a coat hanger up their own nose?

I’m afraid one of mine might be. But I won’t name any names.