Jessie had an endoscopy yesterday afternoon. We did allergy testing a few weeks ago and her celiac panel came back with elevated numbers. The only way to rule out celiac is to do the biopsies and the only way to get the samples is to do the scope.
We had to go into Boston for it, because our pedi gastro works out of the Worcester office for Children’s Hospital, and the procedures are done in the Boston hospital.
I arranged for childcare (in that I made Marc take the day off), and planned on driving my little self and Jessie into the hospital by myself. Oddly enough, with all the time we spent in Boston with Sam, I had never driven in myself. So that was vaguely scary and new.
What I didn’t expect, and probably should have, was how incredibly tense I got the closer we got to the city. As we passed the familiar landmarks, the dog hotel that we always pointed out to Sam, the billboard for PBS that we used to talk about – my stomach felt like it was tying itself into knots. My hands clenched the wheel, and I started flashing back to all those trips on the Mass Pike, driving Sam into Tufts hospital.
Needless to say, taking a relaxed and in all other aspects healthy fifteen year old in for a quick procedure is a completely different experience from hauling a desperately injured and terrified nine year old in for an undetermined amount of time. There was always the risk when we went into Boston that we might not come home that night. He might be bad enough that he’d get admitted. Jessie was relaxed, playing on her phone while we waited in the waiting room, friendly and engaging with the nurses, and totally at peace as they put in the IV. She was giggling as they wheeled her off for the procedure (God bless the drugs).
It was less than a half hour, and it was over and she was awake. She was a little loopy, unreasonably delighted with her root beer popsicle, and very proud of herself for being, as she put it, “so polite and poised in the room.” She commented in passing that there were two of me, as she was seeing double, and then giggled with herself over how dizzy she was.
It was actually a fun day. Which is not at all how I’d describe taking Sam into the hospital.
We won’t have the results until next week.
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