I'm a salesman, not a doctor, dammit!

Here's how I spent my Saturday evening.

I was running some work errands (don't ask) when the wife calls on the cell.

"You have to get home right now. Bailey shoved a bead up her nose and I can't see it."

What??

So I meet Jen at Valley Medical Center. Why is it that everytime I have had to take someone to the Emergency Room, it's on a Saturday night? For the timecode, I think I arrived at 5pm. Jen had to leave for her own appointment so I sat with Bailey, who was very quiet, perhaps waiting for daddy to explode.

"Bailey?"

"Yes Daddy?" came the feeble reply.

"How did the bead get up your nose?"

"I don't know."

And I left it at that. In the meantime, I watched two other children puke in front of me, a hispanic woman alone with roughly 47 children running rampant, and a television BLARING (and I am not making this up) the ONLY movie that they will air unedited on television, "Saving Private Ryan".

Being the typical parent, I know that the bead is probably in her lung by now, will require major surgey and the donation of one of my lungs. Not that I was panicking, but that is where your mind goes when it's one of your kids. So the triage nurse tells me that this is no big deal and it happens all the time. Apparently the secret is to wait several hours with the bead precariously stuck in the nasal cavity waiting to get sucked down into the lungs.

"Bailey, don't inhale", I said.

"What?"

We finally get taken over the ill-named "Rapid Care" building and wait an even longer time. Around 7:30, we get called in. Once we get Bailey on the gurney they tell us what they're going to do. This involves essentially the same tool they would use to open arteries. Instrument goes in, balloon inflates, pull back through. Sounds painful, but we have little choice.

The doctor then walks in and he's about 200 years old. He's muttering something about treating Lincoln. He's actually very nice though and looks up her nose and we can see the bead.

"Before we start sticking sharp instruments in there, I would like you to try the 'blow method' first", he says to me.

"The what?"

He wants me to hold shut her other nostril, wrap my lips around hers in a tight seal and blow hard and quick into her mouth. He believes this might shoot the bead out.

I think he's insane and I start looking for a blunt object.

Sensing my hesitation, he assures me that this is a "trick" that doctors usually don't tell patients but he thinks it's the best option first. Now, I'm worried because I have VERY good lung capacity. The first time, I don't blow hard enough. Second time, she moves and it doesn't work. Mind you, Bailey thinks this is very funny. The third time, I blow really hard and fast and a silver bead comes shooting out of Bailey's nose like a rocket. I'm not sure who in the room is more surprised but Bailey begans laughing hysterically. I check the bead for brains.

The doctor smiles and says "wow, I'm kinda surprised that worked." Where was that blunt object??

"So, since I did the work, do I still have to pay for this?" I asked.

So we laid out the ground rules. Nothing in the nose. Nothing in the ears. Only food and drink in the mouth. The nurse appends my list and tells Bailey she is allowed to put her elbow in her ear. She spends the rest of the night trying to do this.