First the main headline: the test results were normal. If that's what you were curious about, I've saved you the trouble of reading more than you wanted. :)
Now the nitty gritty... We had a check in time of 8 am, scheduled procedure of 9:15 am. Carver could eat normally up to 7 pm the night before, which was fine. We always finish dinner by then. He had water at bedtime and then that was it until after the endoscopy. I was a little worried about him getting grouchy in the morning, but he did fine with it. He got up at 5, but Daddy got him to get back in bed and slept til we woke him up to leave just before 7. I made it downtown with almost no traffic whatsoever. We checked in at 3 desks, got bracelets for him and his dog (and I totally blanked when she asked my social security number - embarrassing!) and waited. And waited. We saw a cool octopus painted on a wall, a neat bench that looked like a Native American canoe (boat to Carver) and mostly walked around touching everything. Carver was SUPER excited to be there. He'd heard my explanation to the girls and immediately latched on to sleeping at the hospital. He was also looking forward to juice afterwards since I'm cheap and never buy it anymore.
Carver was about out of fun things to do when the nurse called us. We followed her back to an exam room. She did his blood pressure, temperature, height and weight, tried to get the oxygen reader on his finger but he wouldn't cooperate for that one. He got to change into a hospital gown on top and funny socks with "stickers" (non skid paint) on the bottom. In this room he got to watch Diego and Dora, which was nice. After another while waiting in here and being prepped on the schedule two -three different times, I signed another consent, met the anesthesiologist who took us back to the operating room.
Whoa. It was a big stark room with a lot of equipment and at least 5 adults. Carver and I were both intimidated. He just stood there and I tried not to look at stuff that might be scary. He climbed up onto the bed with some help and then refused to wear the mask. In all my briefing at the hospital and before hand, no one had bothered to tell me that his inital anesthesia would be laughing gas through a mask. I would've prepped him and it might have helped. But maybe it wouldn't have. I wish I would've had the opportunity and that was my only complaint for the day. They tried to make it fun by showing him that breathing in the mask would make a balloon inflate. Nice try!! In the end, all of us held him down and he cried into the mask. I wiped his tears, told him it was okay and watched his eyes roll back and his body relax. It only took 15 seconds or so, I'm sure. Crying probably helped. But it was sad to watch. We moved him to a good position on the bed and they ushered me out. I didn't want to be there, but it was a tender time to leave him. I probably looked worried because the nurse walking me out to the waiting room asked if I was okay. Or maybe most parents have a hard time with it. I didn't cry, but it was easy to imagine the tears coming!
I waited a few minutes, remembered that I knew things would be fine and picked up the book I brought to pass the time. I jumped at every door creak, but it was nice to think about something else while I waited. I bet it wasn't 20 minutes before the doctor came out with pictures of Carver's stomach, small intestine (right?), and esophogas. All normal. They were very pink and squishy looking. Maybe I'll scan the picture for you. Or maybe not. I'm a liberal arts major and body stuff can kinda creep me out sometimes. A few more minutes passed and the nurses came to tell me he was waking up.
He was in a new room in a small hospital bed with railings, not a crib though. He had those heart monitor stickers on, an IV on the top of his foot and was sitting up without his shirt on. He'd wanted it off in the operating room. The nurses just loved him because he woke up so suddenly. They told me he turned onto his stomach with his bum in the air and pulled his Buzz and Woody blanket over his head. He peeked out and said, "hi." What a cutie he can be! He was dizzy and still a little groggy when I came in, but he drank some apple juice and nibbled on an orange popsicle. He wasn't keen on taking out the IV, but we got it out. He really was a cutie. Several times he saw a mask hanging by the cords and whatnot and said, "all done balloon." But he didn't freak out and I promised the balloon was all done. No more mask, Carver. He wanted to keep his pjs bottoms on, but I put his t-shirt on and his crocs and he walked out with me. We sat on the boat bench and he ate his fruit snacks then I carried him to the van. And home we went!
My friend Caroline had his sisters all morning so I picked them up and made it home for some Kipper time before lunch. Not too bad! I expected him to be dizzy, but he really wasn't. He sure was when he got tubes a couple years ago! He didn't ever take a nap. I suppose even a medically induced nap counts as a nap. Darn! He's happy as a clam, good as new - well, more like every bit as grumpy as normal and getting into mischief everywhere I turn. Did I mention he likes to go outside and turn the sprinklers on right now!?
There are still biopsy results to come. Probably a week, maybe two. I expect that they'll be normal, as well. And that's fine with me! Another problem or decision sounds like a lot to deal with right now. I think they also test for allergies, which will be interesting since we have a strong family history of allergies.
Meanwhile, I have the assurance that proceeding with treatment for the rumination is all we can do. And since it seems to be a hard row to hoe, I need every bit of assurance I can get.