This is Exactly Why We Hate Hospitals!

I am absolutely livid. Our heart echo and CT scan were scheduled for 9:00 this morning. What time did we all get home? Yeah. 4:30.

The plan was that we'd zip in, they'd put Niko under general anesthesia, and all would be well. I even called, not once, but twice to make sure that was what was going to happen. And did it?

No, not at all. We show up and they're like, "Okay, we're going to put this nasal anesthesia up his nose and..." And what? I was so angry that I was near tears. Niko started crying the second that we got into the office, and Nina was upset because Niko was upset. I said no. I said he's too big for a nasal, and it's too traumatizing, as we discovered the last three or four times that they used it. I said that we had talked about this, that the last cardiologist had written in his file that he was to be put under. Again, I brought up the last three years and that, not once, has their dopey little weak anesthesia been successful. The nurse fled, and I was wiping at Niko's, Nina's, and my eyes with a tissue. Were they flippin' serious?!

Another nurse and the doctor came in. He listened to Niko's heart (through his frantic screams) and says, "Yes, he'll definitely need to be sedated." (Really?!) He apologized on behalf of the whole office for the miscommunication. He remembered me from shouting the place down six months ago...when they wanted to give Niko a nasal. Hey, nobody listens to me, but at least I'm consistent.

So they're going to try and get us into the hospital that day. Niko hasn't eaten, Nina's in pieces, and I'm trying to hold them together. We sit in a supply room for and hour and a half ("I'm sorry, kids." "Let's sing songs!" "Don't touch that, please." "Kill me now!") and finally go in and get everybody registered. While I'm doing the paperwork, people are cooing at Nina, and glaring at my disturbing, sobbing son. I want to kill them, but I don't. This is to my credit.

At 12:30 we take Niko into surgery prep. He's freaking out INSANELY by now, but we have a caring nurse and an arrogant anesthesiologist, who, after Niko finally falls into an exhausted sleep, has me wake him up so that we can give him some type of kiddie Valium, so that he'll go back to sleep before they use gas on him. This man is loud, bossy, and pushy. I finally tell him to back off because he's freaking Niko out. Then I worry because they spend almost an hour doing the echo and CT scan instead of the 15 minutes they told me. I worry if I have said something to put Niko in a bad position. Then I think that I'm paranoid. Then I think back to the things that I have seen, and I start to worry again.

When they finally call us to recovery, Niko is, of course, wailing. He's exhausted. He's starving. He's confused and extremely frightened, and he's in pain. The recovery nurse is all, "Use your words," and I finally say, "He's nonverbal. He's significantly delayed. It's all in that paper." She never received the report. So here are the women that are helping him come to, and they don't even know his basic information. He's trying to yank out his IV, and another nurse says, "I'll take it out! Wait, wait!" Then she gets extremely firm, grabs his frickin' IV hand, and yanks on it!!! "NO," she says meanly. I mean, she is so frustrated. "DON'T DO THAT!" And Niko starts screaming like the demons of Hell are on his tail.

I'm standing at the foot of his bed. I mean, I'm right there, and she has her hand on his needle, and is yanking his arm out of its socket. I say, "Hey." That's all I say, this cool, "Hey," but I can feel my face, and I can feel the expression that is on it, and I'm realizing that I'm being so incredibly calm because otherwise, I would rip this woman apart. She looks at me, and the kinder nurse kind of gives her a "calm down" look. She would dare hurt my son? In front of me? By grabbing his IV hand? I saw her fingers go down on that needle. That area of his hand is so incredibly swollen now. I could just...there aren't words. There are, but I'm trying not to think of them. I'm trying to be gracious and believe in humanity. Then she turns to a crying Nina and says, "Did your brother scare you? Can he not control himself, and he's scaring you? Stop crying, you're scaring your sister!"

We bail. I grab my children to me and I take them from this bumbling trial of errors. We drive home, and I tuck them both into bed. I call Luke and I yell a little bit, and I cry a little bit, and then I just feel like giving up. What is it about my little boy? Why do people become so terrible around him? How could people treat children this way?

Then I think, "It's always going to be this way." It is. He's always being laughed at, he's always being tormented. He's always being treated like he's something subpar. I'm not always going to be there to defend him. And I am a very kind woman. I'm basically peaceful, and always try to give others the benefit of a doubt. But I'm tired of the meanness. There's so much pettiness and spite that has been coming through lately. I'm just weary of it. It hurts my heart, so much.

I suppose that's why I wanted to write it here. Most of you know what this feels like, in one way or another. It's just hard, and I'm tired. Things will be better tomorrow, I'm sure.