We survived another MRI.
It doesn’t get easier. For me, I mean. Trevy was a trooper getting his IV in. He was a trooper about not eating. He was a trooper about having an hour delay.
He was a trooper right up until they wheeled us into the MRI room. Once he was on “the table” his survival instinct must have clicked…because suddenly trooper was out the window. He was clawing me and screaming “NOOOOOO!” and “ALL DONE!” I bear hugged him hard. He managed to rip my glasses off my face and tear my heart in two before the Proprofol did its thing.
I wish I were a better writer so I could do justice the emotional electricity in those moments. I wonder if the staff feels it too. Because to me it’s so tangible I swear you can taste it. And if nothing else, feel it. The heartache. The hope. The love. The faith. The stress. The strength. The weakness. The brokenness. The desire to pick him up and run to farthest mountain and live like hermits and forget that there are even things like epilepsy and children’s hosptials and tangible moments. These emotions all run together in those moments. And it hangs in the air. Thick. And powerful. I feel it intensely.
And then it ends.
Then he was snoring. And I was crying.
Jonathan and the big kids (who were also troopers) met me with coffee and goodies. Munchies always help pass the time.
A little over an hour later…they took me back to him. I’d packed scissors and cotton swabs and nail clippers. Fully intending to take advantage of Sleeping Trevy in recovery. Ha! He gave me a late April Fool’s and was wide awake when I got there!
Nurse Neuro-Surge already called me with their results. I say their because I’m sending the scan to Dr. Rockstar as well. Who said, and I quote, “I’d be happy to look at the scan for you”. Hence my nickname for him. Because the only doctors who are happy to pro bono look at scans are the ones that moonlight as rockstars!
She claims his MRI is perfect. And I swear I heard it in her voice. The don’t let the door hit you on the hiney as you go.
As much as I wanted to have peace locally, what she doesn’t know is that I’ve listened to their results before. I’ve learned that they are not always right. Once upon a time, they told me he would never be a surgical candidate. And they were wrong.
So now I wait for Dr. Rockstar’s thoughts.
Somehow I have this feeling that I’m going to have to muster the energy for a journey West.