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    Posted March 16, 2009 by
    Lake Charles, Louisiana

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    My eight month old baby choked on Mardi Gras beads!



    Friday, March 13, 2009 8:35 p.m.



    Joel was not breathing, he had swallowed Mardi Gras beads.  At eight months old my beautiful, precious baby was blue and turning grey.  Using my finger I fished in his mouth down into his throat trying to gag him, and lodged in his throat I saw the purple beads. 



    I continued to work on him, bending him over my arm pushing in his stomach, he vomits I see a little blood and this happens three times during this horrid ordeal.   As I peer into his eyes I noticed that he was nonresponsive, and this fear emerged within me.  I moved panicky at starting over to try and save him. 



    Frantically multitasking calling 911, screaming for help, finding my pants, getting my other four children moving to help me, blowing air into his lifeless body, and praying for my sweet, playful, loving, innocent baby to make it while waiting for an ambulance for what felt like an eternity.  I must have repeated my address and the emergency circumstance at least five times with a transfer and an accidental hang up on my part. 



    When they called back my oldest son answered the phone and then I heard him scream at me, "Momma cover his nose!"  Joel cried, as I put my breath into him, and he screamed out briefly to take in some air.  I soon realized that he was going to survive as long as I continued doing this until the ambulance came. 



    The sirens approached us getting louder and louder, and when they arrived I quickly handed my baby to the angelic paramedic.  He then rushed him inside the back of the ambulance.  I quickly put on my shoes, grabbed my purse, and calmed the screaming of my four other children down by saying that Nana is coming here before I had the chance to yet call her. 



    When I finally made it to the back of the ambulance he was being checked out, and they concluded that whatever was lodged in his throat made it down to his stomach.  He was now breathing on his own, and he seemed to be okay.  I looked at his eyes, and they went crossed.  Never seeing that before my heart dropped, and I thought for a second that my baby could be damaged forever now.  



    The paramedics decided to check out his oxygen level, and the results read in at one hundred percent.  They were the rarest red headed, freckled face, handsomest, blue-eyed twins with the best personalities I have ever came in contact with so far in my life experiences.  We then decided it would be best for me to grab my other four  children who were in the house alone, and then I would drive us all to the emergency room for an x-ray of his little belly. 



    I was seen quickly despite the glares and the judgments from the other waiting patients being that we were six thrown together in a rush, ruff looking healthy people.  He was registered, screened, x-rayed, and they were fixing up his room on the pediatric floor within fifteen minutes of us arriving. 



    The lab tech told me that my other four children could not stay inside the exam room for the x-ray, and by his direction I had to briefly leave them unattended standing on the outside of the door.  The first x-ray showed nothing, so he removed the lead cover he had placed over Joel's stomach.  However, the second x-ray was clear as well, so the tech said that he must be about to pass the beads. 



    I thought quickly remembering all of the events of the night, and I said unless he threw it up on the last time he vomited right before the paramedics came, and during the confusion and commotion I did not even notice. 



    It is an unreal feeling just recalling how horrible yet wonderfully good at the same time I felt.  As I write this I am still shaking, and for the first time ever I am thinking how I can not wait to change the poopie diaper so I can check it out. 



    Then I am wondering could this be a miracle?  I know I am not that crazy, but what if Jesus saved Joel!  He could have easily made the beads disappear while I repeatedly shouted out His name, and prayed for Him to help us. 



    When I walked out of the x-ray room, I noticed right away that my two year old and four year old children had run off wildly.  My eleven year old was trying to catch one, and my nine year old was trying to catch the other one.  I held baby Joel, and gained control of the situation. 



    The lab tech called the nurses desk on the pediatric floor to see if our room was available, but it was not.  I was told to go back into the waiting room, and wait for them to call us up to our room. 



    It was now after ten, Jobe and John must have been awake dreaming that they were at this huge indoor amusement park with long curvy halls for them to run and scream down.  The horror continued, but this time I had the upper hand so I thought. 



    As we waited my two and four year old continued to mildly misbehave, and I could read the minds of the other patients with their families.  Jobe screamed out, "I HAVE TO TEE TEE!"  While taking a family trip to the bathroom the security officer approached me and we communicated civilly about the behavior of my kids. 



    Afterwards back in the waiting room, Jobe took off running again, and my oldest quickly grabbed him.  The security officer said, "Mam control your children or else I will call the nursing supervisor, she will tell you off and put you down."  I said nothing, and I held my two youngest children tightly on my lap.



    Jobe broke free of his brother, and he did a happy lap around the officer.  In anger he shouted out to the receptionist, "THAT'S IT, CALL THE NURSING SUPERVISOR!!"  I stood up and said in a loud, stern, loving voice, "I am doing the best that I can SIR, considering the circumstances of the night."  He took his seat. 



    About another thirty minutes pass by, and everyone was tired.  However, baby Joel had just snapped back into himself and he was laughing, singing, and trying to jump out of my lap.  My two year old John started to cry and scream, because he was ready for bed.  I then decided to get my license and insurance cards back, and then we all left. 



    As I started to load up the van, my mother walked up to meet us at the hospital.  I laughed and told her that she was just a little too late.  When I got back home my cell phone was on the floor, so I picked it up to check my messages.  I saw on the screen, 3/13/09 11:34 p.m.  For the first time in my life, I finally believed in the saying, "Beware of Friday the 13th."



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