Try getting your average four year old to swallow 32 oz of anything in one sitting, on a good day. On a day when Sarah is herself, it takes me over an hour to get her to drink that much contrast, and only when I cajole, plead, beg, and threaten, and sometimes (but only in desperation) bribe. Take into account that Sarah has not been herself since before her transplant 11 days ago, and that she has trouble swallowing even an ounce of water with her meds three times a day, and the fact that even meds take an hour and usually have to be given twice because she just throws them right back up, and the idea of getting her to swallow 32 oz of contrast is laughable.
Luckily for all involved, the nurses thought so, too. The nurse Sarah has had for the past three days just so happened to be in charge today, and basically, we decided to subscribe to the 'Let's not and say we did' philosophy. She flat out told Radiology that there was no way she was going to swallow the contrast, and they ended up doing it through the IV. The picture of her gut is not as clear, but they got enough of an idea to see that her bowel is distended, and that she has a great deal of gas building up. So, not that she's eating anyway, but even if she wanted to, the doctor has put her NPO, which means no food or drink by mouth except for meds (no problem, Sarah put herself NPO like a week ago) in order to give her stomach a break. A break from what I have no idea since she hasn't eaten anything, but I am not a doctor. All I know is that my baby is in a great amount of pain, that she is on an egregious amount of pain killers that either make her sleep or have her groggy and fussy all the time, and that this is not fun. At all.
God bless my poor mother, who tried her best to make today a happy day. She bought me breakfast from my favorite restaurant, which I ate for lunch because as soon as she got here, Sarah started vomiting, and then they took her down to CT. She made me my own Easter basket, which she does every year no matter how old I get. She did her best to help as much as she could. My husband was no slouch, either, and you gotta give it up to Grandma, who even resorted to flat out bribery and even a make-shift juggling act with a plastic Easter egg containing a $20 bill in an attempt to get Sarah to take her medicine. I finally got one of her favorite nurses to come help, she took it for her, no problem, and Sarah made $40 on top of all the other stuff she got today. She got a large basket from all of us; a smaller basket from just my husband; and THREE baskets from Child Life and other organizations who were handing them out, for a grand total of five baskets, plus a care package from Halos and Wings (http://www.halosandwings.org). That's a lot of stuff.
And Miss Boots' spoils were not just your garden variety 99 cents store items, mind you; in the large basket were a large Lalaloopsy doll, four minis that were sent from a facebook friend, two Lalaloopsy puzzles, a set of magnetic Lalaloopsy paper dolls, a custom made pink bunny outfit for her Lalaloopsy Littles, and various other items, none of it cheap. In the smaller basket from my husband was a Fur Real Friend Bunny that really hops and makes "bunny noises", plus some tub toys and other things. Plus three other baskets filled with goodies. Despite her bounty, when I asked Miss Boots if she had had a good Easter, she said no, because she was in so much pain. This made me sad. I thought that maybe with all of the carefully selected gifts I could distract her, give her some semblance of an Easter today. But at the end of the day, all she wants is to not be in pain.
Easter is a time for rebirth, for new beginnings. And transplant is as well. It hurt like hell when I gave birth to Sarah. That pain was nothing compared to the pain that Jesus suffered before he was resurrected. Perhaps in order to be reborn, the suffrage of pain is necessary, even vital to the process. It kills me to see my child in such pain, but I know that she is in the best possible hands, and we will get through this together, for the possibility of another life, a better life, down the road.
Some of today's happier moments:
|Miss Boots on her way down to CT...|
Ready to go!
Bunny ears...and a lot of crap...
Grandma presenting Miss Boots with her very own fuzzy Lalaloopsy backpack...
My mom is going to kill me...hee hee! :)