Normal: Delhi Day 87

Normal.

Now there's a word that's rarely (if ever) made it into one of these posts.

But that's what the doctor told us when he spoke with the specialist after Hayden's MRI today.

The MRI results are Normal. 

And breathe.... (Literally, Hayden, start breathing!)

As I mentioned before, we don't do definite dates in India. So when I showed up at the NICU today and was told that the MRI would be done "sometime today," I was surprised but not surprised. 

Having arrived around 9:30 a.m., I spent a few good hours staring at Hayden 

at which point the doctors called me in to sit with them for some cool afternoon drinks served by one of the many "extra persons" I see at the NICU on a daily basis. I've yet decipher all the "extra person" jobs, but I know one of them consists of serving tea and cool drinks.

It's around 12:30 p.m. by now and after a few cell phone calls the MRI is scheduled for 2:00 or 3:00 (at least we've narrowed it down to two times). I sit in on a few more consultations with patients-- no, we do not do HIPAA here-- and am excited when Scarlett's former twin roomies show up with their mommy for vaccinations.  

I was thrilled to see their mommy, as I've had to cancel a reunion twice now. You'd think I was busy or something! Anyways, I'm hanging out with them as they're getting their shots, when our doctor receives a phone call. He then calls another extra person over and speaks to him in Hindi. Now I should tell you that I am failing miserably at learning the language one Bollywood film at a time, but I have figured out how to listen closely enough so that I can: (a) pick up a few words to know the general topic of conversation, and (b) know specifically when I am the topic of conversation-- as was the case this time.

I look to my mommy friend for the full interpretation. She tells me that they are discussing my heading to the clinic ahead of Hayden "to make sure there is nobody else in the machine." 

Right. Because surely a second body in the machine would really throw things off. The suggestion, however, has yet to make its way back to Hayden's entourage, when I see a baby on oxygen being wheeled by into an ambulance. 

Hey, wait a second, that's my baby! Runnnnnnnnnnn.

I hurry outside after the entourage and attempt to step foot into the ambulance, but am instead instructed to wait. Seconds later a driver in a shiny white SUV shows up out of nowhere. (I find out later that the doctor has arranged his driver and car for me. Duh. Shiny white SUVs do not frequent Pitampura.) 

I'm waved into the car and quickly driven off as I watch the ambulance disappear in the rear view mirror. 

The fact that I have just gotten into a random car with a random driver with no instruction whatsoever is not lost on me. But hey, I've been in India for 3 months now. If this sort of thing made me nervous, I would never have survived 

We arrive at the clinic 

and I am ushered into a corner back room with three men sitting/laying on 3 different couches-- Mr. Barefoot and Asleep, Mr. Shining My Motorbike Helmet, Mr. Busy on My Laptop. Mr. Shining My Motorbike Helmet gets up so that I can sit down. I hesitate. 

After 3 months in India, I know all about corner back rooms. Rule number one. Do not ever get comfortable. Ever. 

Because that's exactly what they want you to do. Put your feet up, have some tea and forget about your desire to be present during [insert important event] so that the abbreviated more fluffier version can be relayed to you by a third party at a later date, thereby decreasing the risk that you might actually ask questions about what went on.

Fortunately, before I have to make the decision, I hear a familiar wail. I swear, it's as if he just knew he had to send out some kind of signal. I escape the corner back room and slowly sneak behind the entourage into the scan room. 

The staff doctor who's accompanying Hayden from the NICU looks at me and asks if I plan on staying in the room. Um, yes, I am the mom. 

Ok, fine. You'll have to remove your "drops." She points to my earrings and I hand them to the driver to hold. 

Master Hayden is bundled up in a blanket with his oxygen mask on and hooked up to a puloxometer so that his vitals can still be monitored during the test. I'm handed cotton for my ears. Another funny moment. It's India for goodness sake. If the sound of an MRI machine is too loud for me, then again, I am in trouble. 

About midway through, the staff doctor sneaks out to talk to the MRI specialist. Hey, wait a second, can I come to? No, no you stay in with Hayden. Dammit. The plan backfires. 

Suddenly, the procedure is over and the nurse whisks Hayden away into the ambulance. The staff doctor follows. I chase after. I'm stopped at the front desk and asked to pay 6000 INR. I quickly hand over my credit card, anxiously watching the entourage prepare to drive off. Am I supposed to stay here? Go back to the clinic? Wait for a shiny white SUV to appear? Please, somebody, fill me in. I get the typical blank stare, and meanwhile, the SUV does appear. I opt to get in again and hope for the best. Minutes later we are back at the NICU.  

I am told that the preliminary results look normal, and that "my presence is expected tomorrow" to review the full report. Oh man, I totally had plans for the pool. Kidding. 

I call Rahul and ask him to come get me, as I had arrived that morning with a another couple who had already left. Meanwhile, Dr. Singh gets a phone call confirming that the results are "normal." Excellent. 

I then ask exactly what this means. If there is no underlying neurological cause, it means it's strictly a respiratory problem... making the million dollar question, how much time will it take for his respiratory system to develop?

"Let's not talk about time," the doctor responds. "Just have patience."

Got it. Patience. 4 months of p-a-t-i-e-n-c-e. 4 years of p-a-t-i-e-n-c-e. I let him know that we are really really good at having p-a-t-i-e-n-c-e.

I go back to the hotel and cancel our flight home. 

I am asked if I would like to rebook for a future date. 

Not at this time, Ma'am. We don't have a future date. For now, I will just have patience...