Monday, September 22, 2008

Anticipation, it's not just for ketchup anymore

We are home. Mandy did a great job getting her port accessed, the nurses and anesthesiologist were friendly and lovely to her. She was happy and giggling and having fun with them right up until she drifted off to la-la land with help from some Propofol. They handed me my little beeper, ala Carrabba's "Your table is ready now", promised me they would take good care of her and page me the instant she was done and off I went. They were very sweet, VERY good with her and very tolerant of me.

All that being said, somebody, somewhere owes me a dye job on my newly developed grey hairs.

I went and I waited, oh so patiently, for the hour and a half scan to be over. Hour and a half came. Hour and a half went. Truth be told, I start getting antsy at the 89 minute mark. Patience, in these circumstances, not really my strong point. At the hour and 45 minute mark, I was coming out of my skin and was about to go all rabid dog on the door to the MRI suite and claw and chew my way through it. Well, okay, maybe not. But, there was pacing involved.

At one hour and 48 minutes, (yes, I looked. Don't judge me!) my little beeper went off that signaled either my table was ready or my daughter was out in recovery. I walked calmly(sprinted like crazy woman being chased by rabid dogs)back to recovery.

Initial Momma triage reveals color good, breathing good, not yet awake, all good. But wait, the back of her hair is soaked. My first thought is that it is drenched with sweat, which when you have a post anesthesia fever issue like malignant hyperthermia, it tends to set off some alarm bells in my head. Good ole trusty hand to forehead test reveals temp feels fine.

Hmmmmmm. Ok, panic one averted.

I examine further it looks like crap! Blood! It looks like blood! It was rinsed out of her hair, but was obviously blood. I lean her up to look at the back of her head to figure out the source. Cause really? MRI? Not exactly an invasive, bloodletting kind of thing.

Panic two has set in.

Say to nurse, "Why does she have blood in her hair??"

Nurse, "I don't know, let me ask the attending nurse."

Meanwhile, I am looking for signs of trauma. Nothing.

Looking in her ear to see if she had bled from there. Nothing. Alllllllllllll sorts of visions (none of which included sugar plums) dancing in my head.

Nurse comes back and says, "When the nurse injected the contrast, her tube came disconnected from the port access."

Oh. Ok. Disconcerting? Certainly. Scary? Oh yea. But, really? That happens. Pretty easily, in fact. No one's fault. I am completely sure she was fine and in no danger. Still? Wish someone would have saved me the 47 new grey hairs I am now the proud owner of and told me first.

Other than that drama, all went fine. She is feeling good, recovered beautifully and is the proud owner of a new Webkinz for her trouble.

No results for a day or two. Which leaves me waiting patiently.




'Cause I am good like that. Patient. You betcha. Paaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaatiently waiting.

'Cause that's how I roll.

Thanks as always for checking on her.

Love to all~

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