This morning I had the hardest time finding the motivation to get ready. I was experiencing a sudden onset of adult ADD, and I just could not focus on the tasks at hand. I knew why, I didn't want to go. I knew it wasn't going to be a laid back, talk to the doctor, relaxing-type appointment. It would be sad and painful, so my feet felt glued to the floor. Luckily my conscious self knew what my unconscious self was trying to pull and well, evidently, doesn't take that crap.
We arrived at about 9, stopped by the coffee shop to grab a donut (go health food!) and went to the imaging department to wait. We didn't get called back until after 10, so thankfully KayTar was in a splendid mood despite having to fast this morning. Sometimes the fact that she hates food does work to our advantage, but more often than not, that isn't the case. Like when the nurse took her weight and said, "You know she hasn't grown since we saw her in July." and I replied, "Yeah, well, we're working on it." So we spent a little more than an hour admiring the fish, "Tiny baby fish! Blue one! Yellow one! Brothers? Oh, bueful family. So cute!" and reading a parenting magazine together before finally being called back. KayTar's an old enough hand at this that she can sort of sense what is happening, even if she doesn't quite know the exact procedures are. If we go in the room filled with scrub-clad people, she senses danger. She hugs a little tighter to my body, she speaks a little softer, her standard reply becomes "No!". She doesn't cry until I let her go and put her on the table, though, and even then she is such a good girl. She told herself, "You okay, KayTar. You okay." and "Do (doing) a great job." Because those are the things I say to her. The doctor explained the risks, as always, and had me sign release forms. The nurse explained the medications has he administered them, "This one burns a little and causes some agitation." "This one causes hypersensitivity to sound and touch, so you can stand by her, but don't touch or speak to her once we give it." "Some kids sleep with their eyes open and it freaks their parents out." And then I was asked to kiss her and leave. So I did. I didn't want to, I didn't need to, but they do the procedures differently as an outpatient versus and inpatient, so I followed protocol.
I was left to wait for what should have been roughly 45 minutes, but I went through three episodes of Scrubs on my iPod before being called back to recovery. This wasn't the first time I've had to wait for her to come out of sedation, we've had MRIs and CTs before, but it was the first time I was waiting alone. It feels different. There was another mother waiting in the room, all she had was a fresh diaper and a newborn sized sweater. She kept holding it up to her face and breathing it in. Her eyes were heavy with worry and sadness. I remember feeling that way during my first wait. Today didn't feel that way to me, I just longed to be with her. I knew she'd come through just fine. She always does. Outpatient LPs are done under total sedation, rather than the conscious sedation used upstairs. She was dosed with a sleeping medication, a pain medication, and a sedative. They also use an x-ray machine to guide the needle in, rather than the old fashioned method they employed on the neurology floor. Truth be told, it made me just an eensy bit more nervous. I'd like to know the doctors are good enough at this that they don't need the aid of the x-ray machine, although I know it is just a precautionary measure to add an extra level of safety to the procedure.
Once I was called to recovery, the nurse said she had received so much medication, she needed to sleep for an extra hour, so I sat by her bedside watching additional episodes of Scrubs. There's something about watching a show about a hospital while you are in a hospital. It's immersing. Usually once we start to wake her, she pops right up like she was never down, but that wasn't the case today. She was so sleepy we could barely rouse her. She finally woke enough to take her bottle once we started taking off the monitors and removing the IV. And then we headed home. She was so out of it, poor baby girl. She is actually asleep again, as I type. She never does this after sedation, so I know they dosed her pretty heavily. But it is done and I hope she doesn't have to do this again for a very, very long time, if ever. And in a few days, we might have some answers. The thought fills my stomach with butterflies every time.
When I left the house this morning, it was in the upper 80's at the very least. KayTar was wearing a skirt and sleeveless shirt. When I got home, the weather was a crisp 49 degrees and there was a package in my mailbox. A friend had sent me a package with yummy maple creme and a sweatshirt to remind me where I really belong, complete with the weather fit for wearing it. Who knew Mad had the power to control the weather?