The One Time You Want A Dead Battery

The big concern that The Boss had for the swallowed battery was what could possibly leak out of the battery and into the daughter. The obvious answer, electricity, never crossed my mind. I’m not certain that it crossed hers, either. Apparently, there is enough liquid inside the human digestive system to complete the electrical circuit and cook your innards. The challenge for doctors is determining whether you munched on a dead wafer battery for a camping headlamp or a Lifeline marine battery used to push a harbor ferry. I was more than a little surprised to discover that the children’s hospital sees these kinds of cases regularly. Two things made the Captain’s digestive adventure less troublesome than the average case. The first was that the battery was dead, or nearly so. The second was that she had told her mother that she had swallowed “a coin” right away. Most parents find out that their kid swallowed a battery long after severe damage is done on the inside of the body. You can burn a hole through things like your esophagus, stomach, and intestines. They’re a tad corrosive, too.


Saturday afternoon, I left the boy scouts at their campsite and returned to town to assist The Boss with our daughter. I returned to the campsite early Sunday morning to help the scouts pack for the return trip. I didn’t take Major Havoc out to spend Saturday night camping for two reasons. The first was that I did not want to be out of phone contact with The Boss. I assumed that I would be picking up the girls from the hospital late Saturday night or early Sunday morning after the battery was removed. I never gave any serious consideration to the fact that the Captain would become an in-patient. The second reason was that he didn’t want to go. The temperature dropped considerably Sunday morning. The wind picked up, the wind chill dropped, and the camping was tough. Our Scoutmaster’s first comment to me on Sunday was, “So, Arby, were you warm last night?” I bypassed the answer he deserved, “You can kiss my ass,” for the honest assessment, “Yep. Mighty warm. Warmer than you were, I’m sure.” It appeared to me that he was a little annoyed by the whole ordeal, as if we had spoon fed a battery to our daughter just to take me away from camping. I’m probably wrong in my assessment. Some times he’s a hard man to read.

Upon returning, I showered and then drove to Children’s Mercy to relieved The Boss. I spent twenty-four hours in the hospital with the girl. She was discharged today after a fairly cool test revealed that she had no damage to her esophagus. It was a video x-ray of her swallowing contrast. I did get to speak with one of the doctors who operated on the Captain a few years ago. He met a healthy, re-Energized former patient. That had to be good for them. When he heard what she had swallowed, he called for her test results and delivered them to me in person a short while later. He wasn’t even assigned to her case. He’s a good guy. The girl packed away a huge lunch, her first solid food in 48 hours, and immediately asked for more. Since she had spent two hours with the dry heaves during the night, we waited to make sure that she’d wouldn’t hork, and then called it good. I phoned The Boss as soon as I heard we had discharge papers. The girl and I were out of the room fifteen minutes later. I wanted to be as far away from the doctors as possible in case they changed their minds. We waited in the lobby. And then we went to karate class, the first night of our new semester. The Captain and I received our yellow belts. It was an odd way to finish a day that started in the hospital. Life has returned to normal, one blog post away from sanity.

Eveready Lied

It quickly became a story to tell around every campfire. We were camping out west of Leavenworth, Kansas, last December when the scoutmaster’s cell phone rang. In the age of cell phones, no scouting dad who leaves his phone turned on escapes the weekend without taking at least one call. The amount of calls that some dads receive is ridiculous. I avoided that hassle by leaving my cell phone turned off and in the car. It remained that way until the scoutmaster’s phone rang early on a Sunday morning. We heard him mumble “okay” a few times, and then he leaned over my chair and quietly said, “Your wife says ‘turn on your cell phone and call her’.” Captain Chaos was sick and the Boss wanted my help. Apparently the expression on my face was a picture worth a thousand words, and on this weekend’s campout that picture was shared with more than a few newbie dad campers. Everyone had a good laugh.


Yesterday, while I was camping with the boy scouts at the annual Klondike Derby, Captain Chaos swallowed a battery. She didn’t swallow just any battery. She swallowed an Energizer CR2032 wafer battery. When The Boss called me on the campout and told me what had happened, I assured her not to worry. It was an Energizer. It would keep going and going and going and eventually come out the other end. That did nothing to assure The Boss, so I suggested that she call the poison control center. They suggested x-rays to make certain that battery had cleared the girl’s esophagus, and then became the most intrusive public service that you can imagine, demanding the name and number of our doctor, the hospital we would be taking the girl to, the name of emergency room physician, and a copy of his financial portfolio. They actually called back to our house at least once while The Boss was running around trying to get the Major and the girl ready to go. She assured the gentleman that she had the situation under control. He persisted. His rational was that the hospital would eventually be calling him for advice, so he would just call ahead. After a bit of arguing, she finally explained to him in a rather exasperated voice that since she cared for our daughter during a heart condition and a stroke she thought she could handle a swallowed battery.

He said, “Oh.”

Now, the advice that he gave was good advice, and somehow the emergency room doctor at our local hospital managed to access the situation without needing to call poison control. Go figure. X-rays showed that the battery had indeed become stuck in the Captain’s esophagus, and since the girl who thoroughly enjoyed all of the attention lavished upon her by the nursing staff of our local hospital had once had a fundoplication, the chances of the battery actually passing into her stomach were fairly slim. Her case was transferred to Children’s Mercy Hospital in Kansas City, with a CMH doctor-ordered ambulance ride for the girl and her mother. I had, by this time, arrived un-showered from the campout dressed in only the finest smokey camp attire, to deliver the insurance card for the girl and take charge of the Major. The ambulance driver went to the wrong hospital, doubling the driving time of a trip that The Boss could have legally made in 45 minutes had they allowed us to drive ourselves. Their concern for the Captain possibly having the pesky battery block her airway dictated the need to have a trained EMT along for the ride. There was room for him in our car.

Sometime after midnight, the Captain went into an operating room for a short procedure to remove the battery. She’s resting comfortably, out of danger, while the Boss sleeps on a couch in the corner of the room. The doctors want to perform a test to make sure that the girl’s esophagus wasn’t perforated. That will be today or tomorrow. I am about to rouse the Major for a very early return to the campsite to gather my gear, to help the troop pack, and return to town. After the BIG GAME, the game that the Boss wants to watch at the hospital so as to not be disturbed (like the girl will let that happen!) I will drive down to relieve her and spend the night with the girl.

The last thing I heard one of the scout dads say as I left the campsite yesterday was a cheeky, “Aren’t you glad you left your cell phone on?!” He was teasing.

And so life goes on, just one more blog post away from sanity…