Wednesday, February 5, 2014

February 5th 2013

MRI day. If you've never stayed overnight in a hospital, you probably don't realize that many doctors like to wake you up to do their morning rounds. The neurosurgery team at OU Children's likes to do theirs especially early, like around 5am. Archer woke up hungry (of course) that day, and he wasn't able to eat because of the contrast dye they use for MRIs. He was so unhappy about being hungry and having to have his IV that he stayed up after the doctors left. It wasn't the greatest start to the day.

I was pretty used to little sleep since Foster was only five months old at that point, but (not hardly) sleeping upright in a chair was pretty miserable. I let Chance rest a little longer and Archer and I just sat watching cartoons. He was getting really restless about not getting to eat and I told him he was turning into the Hulk about it.

They finally came up and got him around 9am for the MRI. We went to the MRI prep room and waited. I let Chance sit with him, and go back with him while I waited in the waiting room. Once Foster arrived I took him upstairs to Archer's room for some quiet alone time.

I had asked the hospital patient care for some tips on explaining what was happening and explaining the surgery to him. She suggested we tell him there was something kind of like a ball in his brain that needed to be removed.

Most of our family came up to wait during the MRI and to see him after. His teacher came to see him that evening and brought toys, notes, and cards from his classmates and other classes. He loved seeing it all.

After getting the MRI, his stomach was upset so he was no longer hungry. He didn't eat anything but a popsicle that evening even though we pushed for him to eat, knowing he couldn't eat again in the morning because of surgery.

Eventually everyone left and we talked to him about what was happening, why he was there and what was going to happen the next day. He didn't really ask a lot of questions then either, he wanted to know if it would hurt, and we told him he would probably have pain, but we didn't know what to expect. Looking back now, I wonder if it was fear or just that the tumor was limiting his ability to think clearly, but it's surprising that he didn't ask more.

The next day was surgery day. I'm sure there's more I could add to this post, but this day was a rough one for me. Not necessarily emotionally, but there was just so much going on, with no sleep, trying to pump and nurse and love on Foster while I had him but also making sure that Archer's every need was met. I can't remember as much, everything feels foggy.

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