Pre-Op Update

We finally made it home after 5 hours at Children's Hospital. After putting Silvi down, I'm down at my local coffee shop, trying to feel normal again.

Ian is a healthy boy, other than that big hole in his heart. He's gained excellent weight, has strong muscle tone (for someone with Down syndrome) and seems content.

We are all set for surgery at 8:00am on Monday.

Today was kind of a fiasco, though.

We did all the preliminary tests: The EKG, Echocardiogram, blood pressure, preliminary assessment meeting with the cardiologist. Then we were told to go to the Pre-Op at the main branch across the way. Well, there are two Pre-Op areas. And, as was bound to happen, we chose the Emergency Room Pre-Op by mistake, much to the befuddlement of the receptionist.

Us: "Hi, we're here for the Pre-Op and to have blood drawn."

Receptionist: "Blood? No that's on the 4th floor."

So we're off to the 4th floor, where, of course, they have no idea who we are since we were supposed to bring paperwork from Pre-Op in the Main Branch.

No matter. After waiting an hour, the "fifteen-year-old" nurse draws Ian's blood. Missed the vein in one arm. Stick. Scream. Stick. Scream. Moved on the next arm. Glove tears. No time to get a new one. Stick. Scream.

Back to befuddled receptionist. Sent to wrong Pre-Op again to meet yet another befuddled, but kind receptionist.

"Who are you again?"

Annie and I sink into chairs as we wait for the receptionist to call around. We hope that the rest of the experience will not follow suit. It was our mistake, but I wish there was a little more guidance for bewildered and tired parents.

Four hours have gone by. No one knows who we are. The kind receptionist sees how tired we are, and gives us a private room to wait in. TV.

Another half an hour, the anesthesiologist finally finds our room. A quick meeting and we can go home.

We get home to four messages from the frantic cardiologist.

"I think there was a miscommunication. You need to get blood drawn today."

Call two: "Still looking for you. Need to go to draw blood immediately."

Call three: "Um, the lab is closing."

Call four: "The lab is closed. Please come an hour earlier on Monday morning to draw blood and meet with the anesthesiologist."

You mean the anesthesiologist who will be leaving for a three day weekend and will not be there on Monday? The one we just met? And where is Ian's blood? In the "fifteen-year-olds" refrigerator?

Again, our bad. But.

Monday is going to be a long day.