Recovery Room

Well I lost the battle to have the PTC done with the biopsy. I tried, but I was dealing with my arch- nemesis Dr. E. Whenever Kirk and I know we are dealing with her, our stomachs churn. I know she is insanely smart and I really respect the research she is doing with pediatric liver transplant patients and immune suppression, but her ability to deal with people is so so bad. She really can't answer questions and far be it from her to have to justify why she chose a particular course of action.

We were at the hospital bright and early this morning (6:45 am). Jaisal went in for his biopsy around 8:15. The anesthesiologist was nice enough to let me carry him back in. I always tell them it's for Jaisal and keeping him calm. While that is true, going back there is also for me. I hate seeing Jaisal's eyes glaze over and his body start to involuntary twitch after he gets the "sleeping gas," but at least I know he's as minimally agitated as possible. General anesthesia scares the crap out of me, so I'd rather be with my little man every possible second until he goes under.

The procedure went smoothly and we were called down to recovery around 9:15. It was not pleasant to have to deal with Jaisal as he came out of his anesthetic slumber. I wish Dr. E had to be with us trying to console Jaisal at this time. Then she'd understand at least part of why we don't want to risk having to do another procedure under GA again. Fingers crossed that we won't have to deal with that possibility.

Now we're in a recovery room, making sure that there is no internal bleeding as a result of the biopsy and waiting for biopsy results. I've been told that the results have been rushed so that we will know whether he is experiencing rejection or not by 5 or 6 this evening. I'm really not sure what to hope for. Rejection means an answer but also 3 days inpatient, plus high dose steroids, and maybe adding steroids back into our daily immune suppression regimen. No rejection means we go home tonight, but with no idea why Sir Oliver is unhappy. For once, I am glad I don't have to decide. A really odd statement for a control freak like me.

Little man has a big boy bed this time around. He was having fun playing with the controls although initially he thought the buttons might control the lights. :)