Before Isaiah Jane went in for her EEG & MRI, I did my best to find some personal stories – both in real life and online. Thanks to a few friends and a few bloggers, I was able to mentally prepare myself for both tests. And now it’s my turn to share.
On our way from the EEG to the MRI, we stopped off at the hospital’s ChickFilA to grab some lunch. Okay, just two sandwiches. No fries. No sweet tea. No spicy dressing. A very kind nurse then helped us maneuver our way to the MRI department. Chris bounced IJ around the lobby while I filled out a few forms. We were taken back and assessed by a very sweet nurse, who asked us when Isaiah Jane ate last. I told her that morning, and she made an “ouch” face. She finished her assessment and cooed at Isaiah Jane before she stepped out.
I panicked and quickly did the math in my head (& on my fingers). Somewhere around five hours. To be completely honest, I had offered to nurse her at the EEG but she hadn’t been very interested. I had intentionally kept that to myself, just to be safe. And we were still in trouble? The nurse on the phone had said six hours without solids, and two hours without clear liquids. Breastmilk seems to depend on who you talk to. Nevertheless, we were still nearly an hour away from anesthesia time. Surely we’d be fine.
The MRI tech came in after she left. She said that because Isaiah Jane had eaten when she did, they might not do the test. She proceeded with her portion but warned us that the anesthesiologist might refuse to proceed. The nurse anesthetist interrupted our time with the MRI tech to inform us that the anesthesiologist would not agree to put IJ to sleep that day because she was in violation of the food policy. I asked a few questions, and the MRI tech began explaining the concept of aspiration. Finally, I caved and told them I was a nurse. I also caved and burst into tears. I blubbered on about how small she is and how she can’t go all day without eating and how it had already been hours and how I’d rather her aspirate on my milk than any of the liquids they’d said were okay.
The CRNA offered to talk to the anesthesiologist and try to fit me into the schedule, but the MRI tech said that another family had already been bumped because they were also in “NPO violation.” Isaiah Jane would have to wait until as late as five that evening. At this point, I was quietly sobbing and whispering that I couldn’t starve her any longer. I excused myself and made my way to the lobby. Chris made our apologies and got our parking ticket validated. He also picked up some contact information to reschedule.
One of my sweet friends from church had surprised us and was waiting in the lobby. I handed Isaiah Jane off to her and made a beeline for the bathroom, saying, “I just need a minute.” I let out a really good ugly cry and a few dry heaves. I leaned on the sink and stared at myself in the mirror. This is why my mother always joked about us giving her ulcers. This is motherhood. After my little moment, I dried my eyes and we left. I called from the car to reschedule, and that evening I wrote a few emails to apologize for my meltdown. The nurse and the tech wrote me back this week, and they’ve been super supportive.
The rescheduled MRI is probably underway at this very moment. We scheduled an early-morning scan, since she’s been sleeping through the night without eating. Chris volunteered to take her by himself, which works out since I don’t want to see her sedated. Looking forward to the text message that tells me she’s awake again. I can’t wait to hold her again.