My friend Ceecee had a major knee reconstruction/replacement surgery. She is the mother of my 19 month old godson Kaden. On a whim I decided to drop by and try to be helpful by taking him for the night so she could get a good night’s sleep. Kaden is quite a character. He has a very expressive face that he uses to great advantage. Mugging like a slapstick comedian he frowns, grins and waggles his eyebrows much to everyone’s amusement. He has cocoa brown skin and curly black hair. He is VERY attached to Ceecee. He was a bit of a surprise, arriving on the scene with the oldest sibling 20 years old and the youngest 7 years old. She is a very patient and indulgent mother. My hat goes off to her, after one night with him I am exhausted 
We had a pleasant car ride from his home to mine. I turned back and winked or made faces at him at every red light. When we got to the house he was still in good spirits. After a few hours he became fretful and fussy. As the night went on I could not get him to eat anything at all. After a short crying jag I got him to sit in my lap while I watched “So You Think You Can Dance”. I absentmindedly rubbed his legs as he lay back upon my chest. I worked my hand up to his little potbelly and began to rub it in a circular motion. As I rubbed, I felt a protuberance just below his sternum. Hmmm, I thought to myself, I didn’t know he had an “outie”. Then I caught myself and thought his belly button is not beneath his STERNUM! I started palpating this oddity with three fingers. I ran my three fingers over his ribs, than around the strange “growth”. Around it, around it, around it, until I had a rough idea of the dimensions. It felt like it was about the size of the tip of my pinky finger to the first joint. I tried to imagine what it might be and all I could come up with was a hernia. I just couldn’t figure out why my manipulating it didn’t cause him distress.
After I put him to bed I called Ceecee. “He is doing fine, he just went to bed. I couldn’t get him to eat anything at all. Hey, does he happen to have a hernia? Right below his sternum?” I asked casually. “You felt that too?’ she asked in a low tone. “Yeah, have you looked into that? I queried. “He had a physical in May. His actual doctor was not available, but the doctor that was there said it was nothing.” Ceecee said. “Nothing? She felt it and said it was NOTHING?” I ask incredulously. “Yes WD, she said it was a muscle or something.” Ceecee responded. “A muscle? Stomach muscles are flat, I mean, I know I’m not a doctor but from what I know of human anatomy and physiology there is nothing below the sternum that protrudes. If this is a hernia, it could be potentially deadly.” I insisted. She responds that she felt suspicious about the whole thing but she disregarded it because the doctor completely discounted it.
I keep pressing her about it, something just doesn’t add up. The doctor didn’t order an ultrasound or xray? The doctor was not concerned about his failure to gain weight for 4 months or his chronic constipation. I don’t want to unnecessarily alarm my infirm friend but all of my warning bells are chiming. Then the disembodied voices of my family of origin swirl around me. They hiss allegations ALARMIST, DRAMATIC, YOU DON’T KNOW WHAT YOU ARE TALKING ABOUT! YOU ARE NOT A DOCTOR!
“I am taking him to the doctor’s tomorrow.” Ceecee says with steely resolve. After running a few early morning errands, I bring Kaden home. I hang out for about 3 hours and try to help out. Ceecee is in a lot of pain, she has a 6 inch incision over her knee. She is wearing a newfangled ice pack brace and her bed is a little island with everything she needs to survive until her convalescence is finished. I feel really guilty because she has scheduled a doctor’s appointment with her son’s primary care practitioner for 4:45 pm. This will entail a mad dash across the city during rush hour traffic. How is she going to handle being out and about 10 days after surgery? What if it is really nothing?
I tried several times to call or text Ceecee with no reply. By then I had conjured up all types of paranoid fantasies as to why she wasn’t returning my calls. After almost 5 hours I get a call from Ceecee. “Hi honey, I couldn’t get any signal in that hospital, I knew you were freaking out.” she starts. I frantically ask if everything is ok and what happened? “Well that thing you felt that you thought was a hernia? That was something called the xiphoid process, do you know what that is?’ Ceecee asks. “Yeah that’s the thing that can break off when you are doing CPR and lacerate someone’s spleen.” I answer. “Yup, well in a baby it has more give because of cartilage. It was poking out because Jaden’s intestines were impacted with feces all the way into his ribcage.” she says with a tone of weary wonderment.
She proceeds to tell me of several harrowing hours of the doctor massaging and manipulating Kaden’s stomach as he emptied out black, tarry, fetid stools and wept in excruciating pain. When he was done his mood immediately lightened and he even ate something. The doctor told Ceecee that he probably had 7 days before he went septic and either died or needed most of his intestines removed requiring an ostomy.”WD, I thank God for you, stop thinking you are crazy and doubting your instincts, because you saved my baby’s life.” Ceecee said plainly.
I was just stunned…..Ceecee told me this morning, after going poo several more times, he ate a bluberry bagel I brought over the day before. “He said, mmm, this is good.” she said with pride and I could hear the smile in her voice.
The Caterpillar and Alice looked at each other for some time in silence: at last the Caterpillar took the hookah out of its mouth, and addressed her in a languid, sleepy voice.
`Who are you?’ said the Caterpillar.
This was not an encouraging opening for a conversation. Alice replied, rather shyly, `I–I hardly know, sir, just at present– at least I know who I was when I got up this morning, but I think I must have been changed several times since then.’
`What do you mean by that?’ said the Caterpillar sternly. `Explain yourself!’
`I can’t explain myself, I’m afraid, sir’ said Alice, `because I’m not myself, you see.’
`I don’t see,’ said the Caterpillar.
`I’m afraid I can’t put it more clearly,’ Alice replied very politely, `for I can’t understand it myself to begin with; and being so many different sizes in a day is very confusing.’
`It isn’t,’ said the Caterpillar.
`Well, perhaps you haven’t found it so yet,’ said Alice; `but when you have to turn into a chrysalis–you will some day, you know–and then after that into a butterfly, I should think you’ll feel it a little queer, won’t you?’
`Not a bit,’ said the Caterpillar.
`Well, perhaps your feelings may be different,’ said Alice; `all I know is, it would feel very queer to me.’
`You!’ said the Caterpillar contemptuously. `Who are you?’
