An MRI and...Food?

Is it possible that a day your child has a general anaesthetic and an MRI to check for brain lesions, is actually, kind of a good day?

I walked onto the ward this morning at 7am and found Chris and Frankie in a toy corner. She spotted me coming and immediately pointed at my shoes, grunting. My good-old-Frankie had settled into hospital life. She was more like herself. Her shoe-obsessed, get-those-things-off, now put them back on, now take them off again, self. Today was day two of this particular hospital visit after we landed at emergency the morning before. Frankie's vomiting had got to a point we couldn't put up with a moment longer. She was gagging and retching in her sleep and vomiting up pretty much everything we put into her.

I sat eating my breakfast on the linoleum floor of her hospital room and was surprised to see her go back for more after I dipped the end of my spoon into my mango and let her taste the juice. No biggie. She'd had tastes before. Plus, they'd made her fast the day before for an MRI, which got postponed, so she was probably a little peckish.

Around 9am I put an exhausted, passed-out baby in her cot. You'd be tired too if you'd done as many laps of the ward as she had on those tiny little legs. Stompin' around like she owned the joint. 15 minutes later Frankie was called for her procedure. She slept even as I picked her up out of her cot. Even as we walked through the noisy corridors. Even going into the lift, having her metal cot noisily brought in behind her, and stopping at three different floors to let people in and out. Even as we were walked into the holding bay, as the anaesthetist and MRI bloke stopped by to ask their questions...she slept. Even when they told us her feed of apple juice was supposed to have been turned off an hour ago and we all flinched in frustration because nobody had bloody told us...she slept.

I gowned-up when it was time then followed the occupational therapist. She blew bubbles ahead of us, creating a joyful path for us to follow amongst the stress of being on our way to the second general anaesthetic of Frankie's short life. Once in there, Frankie's eyes rolled back in her head and she went floppy after 20 seconds or so of shoving a strawberry-scented gas mask over her face. I teared up as I was escorted out, leaving her on a table surrounded by strangers.

An hour and a half later Frankie roused in recovery and we spent the next 4 or 5 hours dealing with a baby in differing degrees of drunkenness and upset, confused about what the hell had happened to her. Throughout the afternoon I found a puncture mark on her ankle where they'd tried to cannulate her. They'd obviously had some trouble finding a vein and I thanked my lucky stars she'd been asleep while they jabbed around this time.

With a dry throat from being intubated and given oxygen, Frankie drank water, which she had been doing off and on for a few weeks. She drank from cups, straws, plastic water bottles. Whatever was going. And then...she ate a bit of banana. A tiny tiny tiny bit. She licked it and held it, and mostly just pretended to eat it, but every now and then she'd point to it and actually drag her teeth across, leaving two little marks like a teensy weensy rat. It was bizarre. And we celebrated. By walking the corridors. Again.

Only this time we came across a volunteer who helps run Radio Lollipop, a bit of entertainment for the kiddos stuck in hospital. He was vacuuming his tiny studio and Frankie was fascinated. Immediately he tuned the vacuum off and pulled out his 'trolley.' It wasn't trolley time. It was vacuuming time. But this guy stopped what he was doing and focussed 100% on Frankie. He lit the trolley up, had it projecting lights onto the ceiling and bubbles erupting. He even went and blew her up a huge balloon to take with her. As we walked away he went back to his vacuuming and we went back to hospital-life, having enjoyed a few minutes where maybe, just maybe, Frankie forgot she was in hospital.

I left Chris on night duty and headed home after an exhausting day of watching Frankie go through so much, but also from marching her around and entertaining her non-stop to keep her distracted from the cannula in her arm, the probe on her foot and the nurses and doctors who wanted to poke and prod her.

As I sat slumped on the couch, mindlessly watching the Australian Open and shoving stale foodcourt-bought muffin into my mouth, my phone rang. A video call from Chris and Frankie. Chris opened with "Can you see the curry on her tape?" Frankie had woken up just in time to interrupt Chris who was enjoying his dinner. A hospital-provided vegetable curry. She shoved her hands into the curry, scooped some up, and put it in her mouth. In her mouth! She swallowed some! She fed some to Chris, and she went back for more! She dipped a fork in the curry and put it in her mouth! And sure, she also gagged and had a little vomit. But she ATE!! That post-general anaesthetic hunger seemed to really kick in.

This kid is absolutely incredible and truly never ceases to surprise us.