I didn't feel like eating, drinking, or doing much of anything. I just wanted to be rocked or left alone, and I fought to watch Charlotte's Web over and over all morning. Yelling, throwing things, hitting, and banging my head against my crib were the ways that I showed Mommy and Daddy how mad I was. I asked Mommy for milk, but she acted like she didn't hear me, and she didn't ever get me any.
Finally, around 11:30am, nurse Anna gave me a funny-tasting sippy cup of orange juice. I drank a little, but I was suspicious. For some reason, Mommy had ignored me all morning when I asked for milk, but then suddenly she let me have juice after about ten days of not allowing me to drink it. When I didn't finish the cup, Daddy gave me a different sippy cup of bug juice, but I was still wary of his motives, so I drank very little. Then Mommy and Daddy started getting mean, saying that if I didn't drink the juice, they would have to give me "medicine." Did they think I was that dumb?! I had seen them put the juice into syringes, so I knew it wasn't medicine.
Well, they struggled but got three syringes of yucky juice down my throat. At 1pm, we left for the radiology department to get my CT scan. We had to wait for a long time in that room with all of the animals painted on the walls and the big machine with a hole in the middle, and I eventually fell asleep. I woke up to Mommy lifting me onto a big long sheet-covered table, and an anesthesiologist messing with my PICC line. When I started to feel really dopey, they moved me up farther on the table, and then I felt something tight on my arm and a sharp pain in my hand. I tried to scream, but my voice sounded really warped, like I was under water. I kept screaming and crying when they did the same thing to my other hand and my foot.
I opened my eyes for a few seconds and noticed the looks of stunned disbelief on Mommy's and Daddy's faces. The anesthesiologist then asked how critical it was for them to do the contrast. I guess the deal was that they had me drink that yucky juice, which had contrast in it, and then they needed to put contrast into the peripheral IV they were trying to put in my hands and foot. He said if it was critical, they would need to put me under general anesthesia and intubate me. The anesthesiologist went to page the resident who was on call, and Daddy started to show his dissatisfaction. I didn't understand most of what he said, but he voiced his concern and said that he wanted to talk with Dr. Hummel (the attending) before we did anything.
It turned out that Dr. Hummel said we needed the contrast, so they were going to put me under and "tube" me. Daddy had some words with the anesthesiologist, but then he and Mommy had to leave so that I could go to sleep (at least that's what they told me). I don't remember anything else until waking up in the PACU with a really sore throat, raspy voice, and coughing.
Once the doctor brought Mommy and Daddy from the PACU waiting room, I was able to rock with Mommy for a little while, and I tried to tell her how horrible I felt. They finally let us go back to our room after a little while. I just wanted to be left alone to watch Charlotte's Web, but since I had diarrhea, Mommy kept changing my diaper. I didn't want to eat, either, although I tried a little warm milk (I told Daddy I wanted it that way).
I still had a fever, and I didn't want to take the Tylenol they needed to give me. Yes, they eventually got it in, but it wasn't pretty. The nurse also brought in this weird blanket for my bed. It had hoses on the end that hooked into a big machine, and water ran through it. She called it a "cooling blanket." It was pretty cold, and I ended up with waffle prints on my legs during the night, so I wasn't really digging the new blanket so much. My fever spiked several times over night, and I wound up having chills, too.
I have to say this is the worst Thanksgiving I have ever had. As a matter of fact, I kept hearing Mommy and Daddy say how much it "sucked," which I think means it was bad for them, too.
Mommy is a little worried that we only wrote depressing things, so she wanted me to mention some items for which we are thankful. Here goes... we are grateful for:
- E. B. White
- Baby Einstein DVDs
- high ANCs and platelets
- loving, supportive, and generous family members, friends, and neighbors
- the highly-skilled and caring team of doctors, nurses, and support staff here at Children's Hospital