The sunrise was pretty

Today was R.'s sedated MRI downtown. When we were first called yesterday, it was originally scheduled for 4:30, which meant that I would get to spend the whole day trying to explain to R. why she couldn't have food. Fun. When I expressed my dismay at the time, the scheduler said if they had any cancellations for an earlier time they would call me back. I wasn't going to hold my breath. But they called! Instead we were given an 8:30 am time, with an arrival time of 7:00, which meant medicine had to be taken at 5:30. Even with not being a morning person, I jumped on it because it was just going to be easier all the way around.

So that's what we did. We were out the door by 6:15 this morning, though having done it now, I would leave fifteen minutes later. There's not a lot of traffic at the time in the morning. The MRI went as expected... there was a lot of waiting, Versed still tastes nasty, and anesthetic is just hard to come out of.

It's always interesting to see how anesthetic affects a child. I also like knowing in advance of surgical procedures because it gives me a heads up as to what to expect when you add feeling rotten from surgery into the mix. Let's just say that R. and anesthesia are not friends, though she doesn't seem to experience nausea which is a plus. She seems to be of the angry, flailing variety. It's a good thing she couldn't get at the IV, because she would have ripped it out. We are home, but she is still acting like a really bad sobriety test subject. It would be almost funny if it weren't.

I also got to demonstrate my mad 'competent hospital parent' skills. Up to now, when a child of mine has been given Versed, by the time they are wheeled back, they are fantastically loopy and relaxed. Once again, this is good information to have ahead of time, because R. nearly completely freaked on us. I was able to keep her calm enough to breath in enough gas to knock her out, but only because I never gave them a choice about letting me go with them. There were rounds of congratulatory statements, such as, "Great job, Mom!" "That was terrific!" as I went back to the waiting room.

Thus is born a new idea. I think there should be some sort of Experienced Medical Parent certificate for which we get some sort of badge to wear whenever one of our children is in the hospital. It could be a combination of hospital hours logged and staff recommendations. Imagine the time it would save hospital personnel if they didn't feel as though they had to stop and explain every step. For instance, they could just ask, "Do you want to give your child Versed?" instead of beginning with a long explanation. It would mean that we would be given credit for being helpful and known for not getting in the way. We could have instant credibility instead of having to earn it every single time we were at a new hospital or had staff who didn't know us. Anyone else think this would be terrific?

We now have two hospital tests done with two more to go this month. At least the next two require no sedation.


Sign me up for that badge! I'm pretty sure after 5 surgeries, stitches, a fascinating variety of complex medical testing, and 11 days on the burn unit, I've earned it.

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