Yesterday we took our 9 month old for a CT. It’s really all her father’s fault – he’s got a big head and she’s got a big head so her growth is off the charts. If there were a percentile out where she is, it would be about the 105th, but since they don’t have that they just write ‘above 97th percentile’. To be on the safe side and make sure that it’s really just her dad’s big head on her little shoulders, the pediatrician recommended we have her checked out.
Off to the hospital we went, got our visitor’s badges meandered through the corridors and found our way to radiology. Then came the wait which was especially horrible for the little girl since she hadn’t been allowed to eat since 3 am and it’s pushing past 11 and it isn’t like I woke her up just before that to feed her (maybe I should have but I don’t think she would have gone back to sleep).
The wait ended. We meandered through some more hallways, some with big blue floor tiles, some with little blue floor tiles. We came to another waiting room, filled out some more paperwork and waited again.
The wait ended again and this time we only had a short jaunt to the CT room. The little girl laid on the table and was swaddled in a big blanket (the better to hold your arms with, my dear). She had a lead blanket put on top of her (the better to keep you pinned down with, my dear). Finally they put some cushions around her head that was already laying in a fixed ‘U’ shaped device (the better to keep you head jammed in here, my dear). For some reason she didn’t find this much fun even though it looked oh so comfortable to me. The kthonking of the machine was almost unhearable over her crying.
Happily this part didn’t take more than 6 minutes and she seemed to recover from the psychological trauma as soon as we put a bottle of formula in her mouth.
Good times…
How is she?