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hkellickSo, we got to the hospital at 10:30, as they asked. Checked in and were told to go over to the GE (Gastroenterologist Lab) and wait. So.. we waited. Then he wakes up, but he's in a pretty good mood, and so we wait some more, but play with him a bit, then he's getting hungry and cranky, and we're still waiting. Finally, they call K up to check him in, but we still have to wait, except now for a nurse.
Waiting is going to be a major theme of this journal entry.
They lead us into a room and have us.. wait. The boy is getting close to meltdown. We keep trying to relax him, but he's hungry and he wants food and he has no idea why he isn't being fed.
Finally, the nurse shows up. The boy's wailing now, so hearing her is tough, but she's demanding we list 3 symptoms. Why? What is she asking for? She never says. Finally, through the yelling, we list three symptoms and she disappears and we wait some more.
10-15 minutes later, with the boy still in full meltdown mode, K goes to find out how long it will take and the nurse reappears and leads us to a too-cramped room full of stretchers and tells us to sit on one and hold the boy.
She then proceeds to put a probe on him and dip his hand in something that looks like Red Koolaid. She's saying it's to find the baseline, but not how. The squirm has no patience for this nonsense, though. None. He doesn't like being messed with on a GOOD day, but he wants FOOD and this nurse is messing with him. She keeps disappearing and reappearing, making a vague explanation about getting the right test to find the baseline, explaining nothing, while the boy is in full meltdown.
She disappears, comes back, disappears, gets a doctor (our GI Specialist, as it turns out), reappears, and finally, she's happy dipping his fingers into something neon yellow and liquidy and it's time for the hard part.
K's already a wreck of nerves and I'm close behind.
They have to put the pH monitor into his stomach. Through his nose. The boy isn't going to like it. We won't either.
We thought someone ELSE would hold the child while we did this. Certainly, K wasn't up to it, and I really wasn't either, but no... so K steeled her nerves and averted her eyes and the probe went in and the boy *SCREAMED*. He was *SO* unhappy.
And I lost it.
That was traumatic. If I don't have to do that again EVER, it will be too late. That was awful.
The nurse FINALLY starts explaining how the test will go. He has a monitor. We have to hit buttons for when he's eating and when he's done eating, when he's sitting up and when he's lying down, and when he's showing three symptoms.. the three symptoms she never bothered to explain earlier. They tape the wire to his nose (he hates that too) and give us the monitor and remind us to be very careful about letting Mr. Grabby grab and pull the monitor. They give us two "no-nos", foam casts that would make it impossible for him to bend his arm.. if they fit, which they don't.
But it's not over yet, nuh uh. The boy's screaming so much that he conks himself out. Just as well, there's more waiting in store.
Now we have to go up, have them take an X-ray of the boy's stomach (which means waiting for 10 minutes in the pediatric x-ray unit) and then back to the GE Lab.. where.. we wait.
You'd THINK that they'd be aware that the boy was likely hungry and stressed and the faster they got this done, the better, but... no.
They call Robert in.. 10-15 minutes later, I guess, and say he's OK to go and we can leave.
Get out of the room, find a bench, feed the boy, and realize how wracked OUR nerves are.
I am so unimpressed. Unimpressed with the nurse that couldn't explain anything well, unimpressed with a hospital that told us he needed to not have food in his belly before we left (even though there was no anesthesia) and then had us wait 2 1/2 extra hours to feed him. Just.. unimpressed.
At least it'll be out before noon today and the information the sensor has collected WILL be really useful in helping us figure out how bad the squirm's GERD is and how to handle it.
Waiting is going to be a major theme of this journal entry.
They lead us into a room and have us.. wait. The boy is getting close to meltdown. We keep trying to relax him, but he's hungry and he wants food and he has no idea why he isn't being fed.
Finally, the nurse shows up. The boy's wailing now, so hearing her is tough, but she's demanding we list 3 symptoms. Why? What is she asking for? She never says. Finally, through the yelling, we list three symptoms and she disappears and we wait some more.
10-15 minutes later, with the boy still in full meltdown mode, K goes to find out how long it will take and the nurse reappears and leads us to a too-cramped room full of stretchers and tells us to sit on one and hold the boy.
She then proceeds to put a probe on him and dip his hand in something that looks like Red Koolaid. She's saying it's to find the baseline, but not how. The squirm has no patience for this nonsense, though. None. He doesn't like being messed with on a GOOD day, but he wants FOOD and this nurse is messing with him. She keeps disappearing and reappearing, making a vague explanation about getting the right test to find the baseline, explaining nothing, while the boy is in full meltdown.
She disappears, comes back, disappears, gets a doctor (our GI Specialist, as it turns out), reappears, and finally, she's happy dipping his fingers into something neon yellow and liquidy and it's time for the hard part.
K's already a wreck of nerves and I'm close behind.
They have to put the pH monitor into his stomach. Through his nose. The boy isn't going to like it. We won't either.
We thought someone ELSE would hold the child while we did this. Certainly, K wasn't up to it, and I really wasn't either, but no... so K steeled her nerves and averted her eyes and the probe went in and the boy *SCREAMED*. He was *SO* unhappy.
And I lost it.
That was traumatic. If I don't have to do that again EVER, it will be too late. That was awful.
The nurse FINALLY starts explaining how the test will go. He has a monitor. We have to hit buttons for when he's eating and when he's done eating, when he's sitting up and when he's lying down, and when he's showing three symptoms.. the three symptoms she never bothered to explain earlier. They tape the wire to his nose (he hates that too) and give us the monitor and remind us to be very careful about letting Mr. Grabby grab and pull the monitor. They give us two "no-nos", foam casts that would make it impossible for him to bend his arm.. if they fit, which they don't.
But it's not over yet, nuh uh. The boy's screaming so much that he conks himself out. Just as well, there's more waiting in store.
Now we have to go up, have them take an X-ray of the boy's stomach (which means waiting for 10 minutes in the pediatric x-ray unit) and then back to the GE Lab.. where.. we wait.
You'd THINK that they'd be aware that the boy was likely hungry and stressed and the faster they got this done, the better, but... no.
They call Robert in.. 10-15 minutes later, I guess, and say he's OK to go and we can leave.
Get out of the room, find a bench, feed the boy, and realize how wracked OUR nerves are.
I am so unimpressed. Unimpressed with the nurse that couldn't explain anything well, unimpressed with a hospital that told us he needed to not have food in his belly before we left (even though there was no anesthesia) and then had us wait 2 1/2 extra hours to feed him. Just.. unimpressed.
At least it'll be out before noon today and the information the sensor has collected WILL be really useful in helping us figure out how bad the squirm's GERD is and how to handle it.
