Lack of memories, courtesy of Versed

Recently, Kathleen and I took a trip to the hospital.  Unlike many trips to the hospital, this trip was planned and not life-threatening (or the result of life-threatening events).  She simply had to have an ultrasound of her kidneys and bladder and a procedure called a VCUG (if you have questions, ask Laura).

Ultrasounds are not traumatic; all that happens is some gel and a wand rubbed in the vicinity of the targeted internal organs.  Well, they aren't supposed to be traumatic, unless you happen to be a two year-old who lives here and is named Kathleen.  She did have the opportunity to impress the ultrasound tech with her ability to say the ABCs as a distraction. 

VCUGs, however, are traumatic and so Kathleen got her first (and hopefully only) introduction to a pediatric sedation team.  Yes, team.  She got the royal treatment from a pediatric sedationist, two nurses, two Child Life workers, and entire basket of toys and books.  The ultrasound tech commented that he usually considered this rigamarole overkill, 'but with your child, I think it's probably appropriate.'

After 2 1/2 hours (20 minutes at the start of her Ketamine excepted) of songs, books, toys, more songs, more toys, more books, and a whole lot of crying, I would have to disagree with the tech.  I think that in Kathleen's case, all of that rigamarole wasn't enough for Kathleen and her (as one nurse dubbed it), 'feisty spirit.'  The next visit is Brandon's turn.