Little Pom's Parents and the Terrible, Horrible, No-Good, Very Bad Day

This is going to be short, because I'm exhausted.

Today was LP's MRI, which required sedation. Not a problem, he took the IV without a fuss, was cheerful and chipper going down and didn't fight the sedation too hard before it knocked him out. Easy-peasy, right? Yeah...not so much.

When they went to wake him up (after getting him set up for the Urodynamic Study, inserting a special catheter and a corresponding anal-proble), it was discovered that Little Pom is one of the lucky 3% of the population that reacts- let's go with poorly- to the anesthesia. Yeah. It was bad.

Imagine your stereotypical crazy person in a Hollywood rubber room. The screaming, the thrashing, the incoherent begging & yelling, the fighting people off, the flailing, the potential for self-injury. Now, imagine that's your eight year old. And there's nothing you can do.

This went on for HOURS. The Urodynamic study was a no-go of course, and they gave him more (different!) anesthesia to replace his foley catheter. Took him about 45 minutes to wake up...fuzzy, disoriented, scared and angry. He seemed mostly okay, so we took him home. But it was a nightmare. We went right back into psychotic-break mode on the way home. Halfway there he was screaming at me for refusing to take him to Chuck E. Cheese...the rest of the way home he was screaming at me for not getting him home faster. It was awful.

When we got home, he was inconsolable. Being pragmatic as well as petrified, I had Daddy video tape about 5-8 minutes worth of his thrashing and begging for help...including me asking him how many figures I was holding up and having him consistantly double them.

He finally fell asleep and he's been out ever since. I'm hoping he'll stay down through the night. Poor baby. Poor parents.