Trauma

First off, I am fine with medical needles.  When I was a poor college student, I sold my blood plasma and I don't bat an eye if a doctor needs me to go in for a blood draw for some test or other.  No problem.  Vaccinations?  I'm fine with.  Yesterday at 4:45ish, I was at the pediatrician's office with Joshua.  I thought it was just to check his growth, but had forgotten it was also for his four month vaccinations.  Not fun, but ok. I can deal with that and help him through.  He'd bounced back just fine after his previous ones, so I wasn't too worried.

Our little guy now weighs 9 lb. 5 oz. "Cool," I thought.  The number's going up.  However, it's still not going up as quickly as the doctor would like it too.  Since this is causing a lot of stress with him at our home and with friends that are watching him, I finally asked her why the concern about the speed at which he catches up?  Well, it's not so much about that, but the domino effect that happens with his growth.  Apparently, if he's not sufficiently gaining weight, he won't gain length, won't increase head circumference, and that can, in turn, affect brain development.  We already have him on a more concentrated formula recipe, so she increased that to an ever greater concentration and also ordered some blood tests.

So, after his vaccinations (which the assisting nurse was none too gentle about- grrrr), I went over to get a prescription filled for him for antacid medication and to get the blood drawn for the blood tests.It was now well after five and was dark outside.  I got my meds order started and then went to the lab.  Much to my horror, they weren't going to be able to do it in his heel, but would need to do it intravenously from an arm.  They needed two specialists to do the draw, so I had to wait a few minutes for them both to become available.  After his vaccinations, I had comforted him, cuddled him, and gotten him settled back down in his carrier.  Now I would need to get him out so they could stick him with a needle.  I sat there waiting while tears silently rolled down my cheeks.  I was tired and just wanted to be done.  Then came the big moment- they brought over a rolling table to lay him on, I got him out of his carrier, he started crying, and I silently joined in along with him.  We got him situated down and they instructed me to hold his head and his torso steady.  I bent- holding him down, talking soothingly to him, and stroking his cheek when possible while they readied what seemed the biggest needle I'd ever seen.  It definitely was huge compared to his little arm.  They put the tightening rubber band thing around his arms and he started to really get upset.  Then they started the blood draw and he screamed.  I barely held it together.  I had my face as close to his face as I could get and tried shushing, singing, talking, whatever I could to get his mind off of what was going on.  None of it obviously worked.  It felt like forever while they filled up that stupid vial.

Finally we were done.  He was bandaged up and I clung to my sobbing baby while I tried-to no avail- to get myself back under control.  As we exited the lab area people were so kind.  One older lady told me, "You're such a good Grandma."  I didn't correct her, but just half smiled.  Another man- thankfully more in tune to my relation to Joshua- told me he had gone through that with his one year old and that we did a good job. We got to the lobby and still had to go get that stupid medication, so back we both got in line wet faced and traumatized.  While I was waiting in the lab for the blood draw, I kept searching through my bag for my phone.  I'd combed through  it and it was nowhere to be found.  I just needed to hear Paul's voice. When I couldn't find the phone,  I concluded I'd left it in the exam room the next building over.

I got Joshua's meds, and refused to put him back in the car seat for the walk back to the other building to search for my phone.  I cuddled him up to me with his fluffy comfort blanket and- just wanting this all to be over- we returned to find the doctor's area locked and shut down for the night.  It was now past 6pm.  Luckily, a few minutes later, a kind janitor came along- changing out garbages in the lobby and said she'd walk me back to look for it.  As we went towards the door, out my pediatrician came with her keys in hand.  We walked back to the exam room and there was the missing phone sitting on the exam table.  The doctor was sympathetic and kind.  I put a protesting Joshua back in his car seat, got him in the car, and, thankfully, his pacifier did what its name suggests and he calmed right down.  I used the car to call Paul and cried while I told him the story and picked up some dinner to help soothe my troubled spirits.  Luckily, my brother had shared with me an audible book- an autobiography about the life of Carol Burnett read by the great lady herself.  As I drove down highway 26 towards home, I started to breathe more easily and the trauma started to fade a little into the background of memory.

We got home and Paul was at the door to care for his little family.  He scooped us up, settled, comforted, and held us.  He cuddled Joshua while I got in a heart to heart call with my mom and within a couple hours we were all finally in bed.

Joshua is scheduled for a return appointment next week to discuss the results of the blood tests and to see how the weight gain goes with this more concentrated formula.  If it still is insufficient, we might be looking at a three day hospital stay with him being fed through an ng tube.  If he still isn't gaining enough weight after that visit when we're sure he's getting enough calories, then we have to keep searching for other causes.  I really pray it won't go that far.

Bandaid on both legs and a bandage on his right arm.  Sigh.