Duct Tape and G-Buttons

Wouldn't that be a great name to a TV show?  Hmmm, maybe sometime in the future.  But for now, let me tell you a story.  It involves a sweet little man, his g-button, and the night it almost fell out.  Mike was feeding Dominic his dinner of yummy, thick, green puree when he gasped- which by the way is a big no-no in our house.  In our house a gasp can mean only three things: #1 your or someone else's trach has come out, #2 you or someone else are blue, or #3 some other unimaginable medical emergency is ensuing, usually involving choking or broken bones.  So, naturally, a gasp results in all the adults hearts dropping, adrenaline raising, and one or both of us running ready to resuscitate someone, which may or may not be accompanied by pushing little people in the path out of harms way.  A false gasp then earns you a stern "if you're not dying, don't make that sound!" scold.  Perhaps we need a little R&R to back us away from the edge of the cliff.  But I regress.

As I was saying, Mike gasped, to which sound I immediately attended to what was happening.  He was holding his g-button in and told me it was coming out.  I didn't quite get it (I was still scanning for purple lips and decannulated trach from that gasp).  Again, he told me his button was falling out.  So of course I pulled on it to check, because you know, how could I possibly trust this man I've been married to for 11 years who takes care of all of us :/.  Sure enough, the balloon that holds it in had busted.  Luckily, I had a spare.  But then, uh-oh, I remembered I had opened it to use the special tip syringe to re-inflate a g-button a few months ago.  And since then, it has gone MIA.  This brand new shiny g-button had been made useless by the absence of this magical little special tip syringe that was needed to blow up the balloon that holds it in the tummy.  Dang.

So, like any good red-blooded Texans would, we pulled out the Duct tape.  Ok, it wasn't actually Duct tape, but it does make for a more fantastical story.  It was plain ol' medical tape.  But the fact remains we taped the button to his belly.  The poor baby had tape all over his little fat, roll-y self.  The last thing we needed was for that button to pop out and 200 mls of 'yummy' green goodness to spout out.  The next morning, after a few stressful, careful feedings, I picked up the new g-button and
replaced the broken one.  I sure wish I would have taken a picture of this, but alas, I did not find the humor in it while it was happening.  It's only now I can laugh at the ridiculousness of this crazy life we're in.

Here's to keepin' your buttons in and your face pink ;)

In Them, Chasity