We booked in to have Squishy irradiated two months ago. He has to have a dye injected into his bladder (up the urethra), and then x-rays taken while he pees to see if he still has the urinary reflux.
Cue two months of increasing anxiety about a nasty medical procedure that I have to hold him down for, anxiety that increased day by day as the day grew ever closer.
Then on Tuesday, the day before the test, Westmead Childrens Hospital rang to say that they had run out of radioactive isotopes, and wouldn’t be getting any more for at least 6 weeks. And would I like to reschedule for late July?
When I expressed surprise at the late notice, she said, “well, I tried to ring you this morning”. I felt sick.
So I rang another hospital, spent almost an hour (no exaggeration) trying to convince the nuclear medicine people that if a test involves radioactive isotopes, then it is a fair bet that it’s done in Nuclear Medicine, not Urology or Medical Imaging. Really.
Finally, I was able to get through, and the test is booked for this afternoon. It will be painful for Inigo, and no doubt terrifying, and it will be my job to stay calm and soothe him. I just have to remind myself why we are doing this – because hopefully, hopefully, he’ll have grown out of the dicky bladder, and he can stop taking the antibiotics that he has been on for over a year now.