Annalise’s Kidney Abnormality: Part III

So last time, we were leaving the pediatric urology department with a prescription for a daily antibiotic and a plan for more tests.

A few weeks later (Annalise was about 3 months old), Annalise and I head back to UVA for a kidney function test and another ultrasound. After gathering information from the doctor, nurses, and internet (in no particular order), I know that this day will be a bit more involved than the previous visit.

First, Annalise will have an IV. The IV allows a radioactive dye to be injected into her bloodstream, which her kidneys will later absorb. The dye is a tracer that will be detected on a scan several hours later, and will show the functionality (and non functionality) of her kidneys. Second: because of the IV, Annalise is required to fast beforehand. Since she was born, I fed her every 3-4 hours during the day. I had never prevented her from eating when she showed signs of hunger, much less waited 8 hours between feedings – not even during the night, at this point! When I laughed at questioned the nurse’s instructions for fasting, they assured me that this was routine protocol and Annalise would be fine. To me, a first-time mom, this all sounded absurd, and guaranteed a horrific experience for me all involved parties!

As we head into the radiology department, I am afraid and apprehensive – more for the fasting than anything else. What could be worse than a hungry infant?

We are called back and are escorted into a small room, where two nurses prep Annalise for the IV. I’m not nervous when it comes to needles – and at this point, Annalise had already had several shots at the pediatrician’s office. But the needle for this IV was ridiculously small and thin – the smallest the hospital had available. I remember commenting on how tiny it was…

The first nurse steps up to the plate – this needle in her gloved hands. I try to hold Annalise down, and keep her calm. Another nurse holds down her legs, since the foot is the ideal place for insertion at this age (it’s out of the way and less likely to get pulled out). Annalise begins to protest, the needle goes in…and the needle goes out. Her veins and valves are just so small. There is almost zero room for error. “Surely I’ll get this in the next try,” she says.

The nurse preps Annalise’s hand. Same thing – different appendage. No luck. The needle just won’t thread into her veins. The second nurse steps in and takes over. The first nurse assures me that it won’t be long. We go for the other foot. More screaming, more thrashing, more restraining Annalise. Needle goes in, needle comes out. At this point, (sorry to be graphic) there is blood everywhere. The nurses are trying to cover her pricks with bandaids, but it’s quite hard when their patient is screaming and flailing her arms and legs. Plus the bandaids are about as small as my pinky’s finger nail. At this point, I really am just trying to stay calm – for everyone’s sake. A crazy hysterical mother would not be so helpful in this scene right now. I tell myself that it’s not the nurses’ fault, but I just keep wishing that I knew when it would end.

All in all, three nurses attempted to thread the IV in a total of six different locations. The whole ordeal took about 45 minutes, and when it was over, everyone was exhausted and relieved. Then the radioactive dye was injected through the IV, and her hand (with her non-sucking thumb, thankfully) was taped up really well. I was NOT going to have this IV fall out. Although Annalise wasn’t supposed to break her fast until the entire procedure was over, the nurses had sympathy. They let me nurse her right there. Poor thing. She hadn’t eaten for about 6 hours, and she had been through quite an ordeal with the IV. As she drifted into sleep with a full belly, I felt like I needed a nap too. But the day wasn’t over yet. I needed to eat lunch at some point, and there were more tests.

We head into the ultrasound room, where they take more images of her kidneys and bladder. Cake walk, relatively. Then we had a few hours to wait until the kidney scan. The dye would take some time to be absorbed into the kidneys, so we were free.

After some quality time in the dining hall, we head back to our little torture chamber room and get prepped for the scan. They tell me that they will take at least three scans in differing angles, and each scan lasts about a minute. She will need to be perfectly still for each scan. I laugh. This should be good. When we lay Annalise on the ice cold table, she immediately freaks out. But who wouldn’t, after what happened earlier that morning? Even with some wiggling, the straps hold her down pretty securely. The technician seems to be pleased with the clarity of all three scans – we were free to go! No repeats! After removing the IV from her hand, Annalise and I run from the hospital. In the safety of our home, we both crash from the dramatic day.

A week or so later, we come back to the UVA pediatric urology department to go over the results. Of course, a urine sample was collected. [I say this with bitterness in my heart because it seems like there is no such thing as a simple office visit when it comes to specialists.] Compared to the IV, I don’t even flinch. Plus, Jason was able to come this time and provide a clear head moral support.

Our doctor comes in, and pulls up the kidney scans. He explains that the images show that the right kidney (the dilated one, with the duplication) was doing about 40% of the total renal function, and that the upper portion was obviously not functioning normally (if at all). This all leads to that dreaded word: surgery. The color drains from my face. “Not to worry,” he says, as he goes on to explain. “…Laparoscopic…minimally invasive…quick recovery…” But I’m not really there. I can’t imagine seeing Annalise go through something worse than the whole IV ordeal. The doctor routinely performs this kind of surgery on babies, and as long as she stays healthy (i.e. no kidney infections), the surgery will be scheduled when she’s about 6 or 7 months old. In the meantime, we go home. At the advice of our doctor, we change her antibiotic prescription to a stronger one, now that she’s older (older? she’s 3 months old!). We aren’t scheduled to go back to UVA until we get closer to her surgery, which would be a pre-op “check up.”

The pediatric urology department calls with the appointment. Late October, 4 months from now. I put it in my calendar. Now, I can count down to D-day! I have so much time to find reasons to worry, develop an extensive list of questions, and try to pretend that my daughter is healthy. She is, of course (healthy, that is). It’s just that part of her kidney is wasting away and causing all this “preventative” care. We are lucky, in that way. No signs of infection. No changes to our daily life (except the “treat” of sugared down antibiotic). But here I am – just counting down the days till my daughter will go under with anesthesia for about 5 hours. NBD.

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One Response to “Annalise’s Kidney Abnormality: Part III”

  1. Annalise’s Kidney Abnormality – Part IV « Baked With Yeast Says:

    […] Baked With Yeast Documenting the good and the bad of parenthood « Annalise’s Kidney Abnormality: Part III […]

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