Peanut had an endoscopy yesterday. All went well, but when that kid came out of the anesthesia, boy was he P.I.S.T.-MAD. He glared at everybody for a good hour. This, coming from my happiest kid with the perpetual smile on his face. He was most concerned about the needle stuck in his hand, which he kept trying to cover up. He also refused to use that hand for hours afterwards, like it was broken or something. Weird kid.
Right before the procedure he took part in a medical study for allergies and eosinophilic esophagitis (which they think he has--again). So for participating in the study he got an awesome Fisher Price dump truck. The one toy this kid doesn't have, too. What were the odds? And we got free parking. Woohoo! Good times all around.
So after the procedure while Peanut was scowling at everyone, the GI doctor came out and started talking to me about what went on and asked for his history and blah blah blah. He stopped me about halfway in and asked me if I was a nurse. I, not being one, did not lie. He said, "Wow, you really sound like one. You know a lot about this stuff." I've heard on more than one occasion that when you kid has a condition, you have to make yourself an instant expert on it. Just further proof that I'm an excellent mother. I don't care what CPS says.
Speaking of mothering, remember when Peawhistle scared the crap out of me and the drama of the ambulance ride, ER visit, etc.? Guess what? SHE FRICKING DID IT AGAIN. No, not the trip to the hospital, but she did pass out again (sort of). This time I managed to catch her on the way down, so no career-ending Steve Young-esque concussions for her. So last week she had a really loose tooth. I'm always scared she'll swallow the darn things in her sleep so I told her I was going to take it out before bed since the gross thing could bend at a 90 degree angle in her mouth. I popped it out, she whined, she started fussing about, "Ew, the blood! I don't like the blood in my mouth!" so I told her to wash her mouth out with some cold water and come back to bed. She did so, came back, and promptly fell limp. And freakier than that, she never closed her eyes, she just lay there, completely stiff, teeth gritted, shaking like crazy. And then she stopped, I asked her if she was OK, and I stuffed her in bed while I conferred with The Husband. She was feeling back to normal after a half hour or so, so we decided against any ER visit and I decided to tell her doctor on Monday. Dr. Guilt Trip was supremely interested in this turn of events, especially after I informed her that prior to the first episode, she had lost her second tooth not 5-10 minutes before she collapsed in the parking lot. Two collapsing episodes following two tooth losses? Surely more than a coincidence (take that new, younger, creepier Sherlock!). Her doctor thinks that because the stiff/shaking episodes were so brief (probably only 5-10 seconds at most) that they weren't seizure related, but rather post -something-something-effect (darned if I can remember what she said) related to fear of blood, almost as if she's locked in fear rather than just passing out. We have to call the doctor if she does it again and it's NOT related to teeth loss or blood of course.
I don't get this. This is my blood 'n' guts girl. She is scared of nothing gross or icky. I was convinced she could have been an EMT with her talk of body parts, bones, blood, guts, etc. She falls down or hurts herself and she merely brushes it off and continues to play. The girl laughs at the very thought of zombies, monsters, and witches (I've tried to encourage that frame of mind actually). And here she is, freaking out over two drops of her own blood in her mouth?? To the point of passing out on me? And she's only lost three teeth so far. My gosh have we got a long way to go. She better hope I'm around when she loses another one or we're going for another trip in an ambulance I fear.