The MRI

Morning comes too soon. Eyes feel like they’re encased in fibreglass.

The regiment is sending one of the boys to drive Kate and I down to Saint John for her MRI. They’ve sent Tim, a family friend and I am grateful for his presence in the pre-dawn hours.

Kate gets checked in at Day Surgery. Her test has to be performed under complete anaesthesia; she wouldn’t stay still for the procedure without it.

She’s beaming as she’s wheeled to the imaging department. The Anaesthesiologist meets us at the door it’s not the one we were hoping for. The last one was Dr. Lee this one is a man. He briefly discusses knockout strategies with me before he decides to gas her then put her completely under.

She’s had a hard couple of weeks medically and I’m sure she remembers the lab tech from hell, who broke off a couple of needles in her arm a few weeks ago. It takes no less than four burly orderlies to hold her down.

I watch, feeling like I’m in some sort of fun house horror movie where the image you’re looking at moves away at a rapid speed. She’s fighting them off. And I discover I do have more tears.

“Oh boy,” I sigh, as they fall down my face.

The procedure will take at least an hour. Tim and I head to get coffee.

I’m not supposed to sit or stand for long periods of time. One rule broken. I don’t have a choice. She’s my babe too.

As she comes around the recovery nurse comes out to get me. They’ve dealt with special needs kids many times. The room is a shocking neon orange colour and I think,” Wow– this would make you want to keep your eyes shut.”

We don’t have to wait long and she’s ready to go back out to day surgery. They must have given her too much gas because she’s nauseated and pukes up the little liquid she still has in her system. Poor Birdie.

Joan the Day Surgery Nurse is amazing. It takes seconds to administer an anti-nausea drug and to clean Kate up.

When she discovers my own medical condition she even gets Kate dressed and ready to go.

Tim wheels Kate to the car – she loves the wheelchair and her smile at this point in my day is better than I remember. My girl exhausts and frustrates me on a weekly, sometimes daily, basis. But there is nothing I wouldn’t endure for her and her smile raises my spirits to endure the rest of the trip home.

I don’t know when we’ll get the results. And I know when I get home I’ll have a dozen, or more people to call. But for right now. This moment. Driving down the highway with my groggy girl in the back seat I start to feel “normal” again.

I’m still not in control – and I hate that. But at least I’ve managed to get something off the “to do” list and as silly as it sounds – it’s made me feel marginally better.

Now we wait.

Day 215