As I mentioned earlier, today was Robert’s MRI to check out an abnormality in his pancreas.
The fun started last night when I, apparently, lost my mind. At about 10pm I decided it would be a super idea to let Robert sleep with us. I needed some reassurance and having him next to me helped me just relax about the situation. I feel really helpless about all of this so, at least I could hold him and cuddle him. He’s a big snuggle-bug, so I knew he’d like this.
In my Nervous Mom Haze, I forgot two very important facts. 1. He’s a bed wetter. 2. He kicks like Pele.
So, he kicked me in the groin for a few hours and then he peed on me. It was a really, really unsuccessful night. (But, he slept soundly, at least.)
We got up at 5 in the morning. (Actually, I got up at 3:30. Once you are kicked awake and notice you’re covered in urine, it’s not so easy to get back to that “I am so comfy and want to fall asleep!” stage.) Robert was not a big fan of this. You know the phrase, “mad as a wet hen” well, I think it should be retired and “mad as a wet Robert” be the new standard for pissed-offedness.
I wrestled him in to some dry sweats and threw him in the van. He complained the whole way to the hospital.
Once we got there, we were deposited in a waiting room.
We played checkers.
Fun fact: Robert’s Rules of Checkers involve making checker castles and trying to get bonus points for distance flicked.
Eventually we were put in a room. Robert’s ridiculously good memory kicked in and he got very anxious. (I was actually doing fine at this point. My exhaustion was over-riding any nerves.) He didn’t want to have lidocaine put on his hands for the IV, he didn’t want to sit on the hospital bed, and her certainly didn’t want to put on any hospital-issued pajamas.
So, we went nekkid. Sort of. To be fair, he was wearing Thomas underpants, swaddled himself in a Thomas blanket, and was adament that was JUST FINE. With TV controller in hand, he settled down for some cuddles with his Thomas pillow and cartoons.
Eventually we were hauled down to the operating room. Since he’s little and the anesthesiologists worried about his airways, he was going to be sedated and intubated there before being carted off for the MRI.
His doctor had to tackle him and carry him off to get that done. I guess I forgot to mention that a doctor telling Robert anything was going to be done to him (even if it was “we’re going to give you a pony and $5!”) is going to make him try to bolt. And he’s a quick little bugger. They tried to reassure me they would take good care of him but all I could think was that I should be reassuring them. You’ll be able to get him to sleep once you catch him. Promise!
I wandered off to the waiting lounge, which is neither blurry nor crooked, and sat for 2 hours. It gave me ample time to be irritated at the sick lady who stole my magazine when I got up to go to the bathroom and then gave it back after sniffling and snotting all over it. I like trashy celebrity magazines, but not enough to risk contracting whatever unholy death she was spreading. (Who comes to see someone at a hospital when they are like drooling, nasty sick!?) I guess I will never know if Khloe is really a Kardashian…
Finally we got the call that Robert was awake! And then a call that he fell back to sleep and it would be a little while longer before he was transported up to his room.
30 minutes later, he was going up for real so, I scooted up to his floor in time to see him being wheeled in.
He was not in a pleasant mood.
He immediately started crying and telling me he was hungry. (You and me both, buddy. Neither of us had anything to eat that morning.) I tried offering him juice, but that was an unacceptable substitute. I felt bad because the kid in the bed next to him had just had oral surgery and was in a lot of pain, but my child was complaining louder and longer. Way to over-react, buddy.
Finally, the nurse came and removed his IV. Robert helped her take off the tape and was ready to take the whole thing out himself. (He was REALLY hungry.)
As soon as the bandage was on his hand, he was dressing himself with lightning speed. He knew lunch at his favorite buffet was right around the corner.
We left the hospital and went straight to the eating.
This is one happy camper. (I tried to get a picture of him before he started eating but, I was clearly too slow as he already has a mouthful of macaroni stuffed in his face.)
Now all we have to do is wait for the results….