---

August 9, 2002

Amy: Today was DEFINITELY the worst day of Quinn's life. I'm trying to be positive because it's over, she's in her bed sleeping, and we have some answers, but I'm just a mess after taking care of her all day.

We got her up at 4:30 a.m. and she was so crabby and whiny. She got through her bath OK and we headed out the door at about 5:15. She actually stayed awake the whole way to the city! Wow! We stopped a few times and took her out of her car seat, which helped.

Andy: Quinn wasn't the most cheerful girl when we woke her up at 4:30, but then again, Amy and I weren't any great joys either, I'm sure. We drove down to CMH, with me in the back seat trying to keep her awake while not falling asleep myself. Twice we stopped so that we could pluck her from the car seat and wake her up when the standard jostling and crowing of "Quiiiiinny! Quiiiiiinny!" failed to rouse her from her hard-fought slumber.

She drank a bottle of grape juice on the way down, but refused the Jell-O. Since the EEG measures brain function during sleep, and she might have to be sedated to get her to sleep, she wasn't allowed any solid foods in the morning, and nothing by mouth at all after 6:30. It turns out the preparations for sedation were entirely unnecessary.

We got to the hospital an hour early, and she sat and played on the floor (dirty, gross — mother of the year, I know!) happily for the whole time. The woman giving her the EEG finally came to get us at 8:45, but only one of us could go in with her, so I took her in. (Note: Look at the picture at her curly-uppy toes. She's inherited these from me, and apparently I from my Mom.)

She finally got done wrapping her and put her on her tummy with her head turned to one side and then she started sticking the electrode things to her head. That was fine until Quinn wanted to move her head—and it was my job to take her by the neck (not the head, the lady was working there) and guide her back into position. Picture Quinn's happiness as she's lying ON HER TUMMY wrapped up like a FREAKING MUMMY and I'm pulling and pushing on her neck, trying to control her head--the one thing she could move! She was one pissed off bunny!

When she was all hooked up, I put the pacifier in her mouth and the lady turned the lights down and started to SING. Oh my god! Lady! Do you want her to go to sleep or do you want her to keep crying? Finally I started talking quietly to her and the lady got the hint and sat at her work station and whistled quietly. Quinn passed out almost immediately.

Once Quinn was asleep, Amy came out to destress, and to let me go in with her. The actual test only took about 20 minutes. While I was in there, a strobe light would flash at Quinn's face for about 3 seconds and the EEG tech (who I had no problem with) would scribble on the scrolling paper passing out of the machine. Then, after a few seconds of dark, the process would repeat with another burst of strobe at a higher frequency. After about 5-6 minutes of this, the tech woke her up and had me give Quinn a bottle, so that the EEG could measure her brain while she was awake without Quinn crying.

Finally, the test was over. Quinn's whole head was a big ball of tape holding down 24 gluey wires. The tech removed the tape and wires and washed down Quinn's head, one side at a time. Quinn was certainly not happy about this, but after that, we went out to reunite the girls.

After 40 minutes, she woke Quinn up and took all the things off her head and kind of half-heartedly washed her hair (it's still sticky) and sent us back to the waiting room. We had an hour and a half until our appointment w/ the doctor, so I asked Andy if he'd go to the desk and see if there was a room or something Quinn could sleep in until then. The staff there is SO DARN NICE — everyone who came into contact with us said hello, and made sure to say hello to Quinn, too. You can DEFINITELY tell it's a children's hospital!! Someone gave us a room with an examining table, which I put Quinn on and crammed in next to her, and Andy sat in the hall and read. (Ha. I wish I could have sat.)

Our 11:00 appointment rolled around, and we were shown to an exam room, and we waited and waited. At 11:30 or so, Quinn started doing her breath-holding trick. I went out to the desk and said "I don't mean to be a nudge, but Quinn's doing her breath-holding thing for the first time today, and I'd hate for the doctor to not see it happen." She went and got the doc.

The neurologist we saw is the head of the department--I don't know how we got lucky enough to get him as our doctor, but we're very thankful! (About Dr. Epstein) He watched her breath-holding and had us interact with her while it was going on. Then he checked out her legs, which were their usually floppy selves. We related our various family members who had whatever kinds of problems. Then, he sat us down and told us what he thought.

First, her EEG was normal. He doesn't think it's a problem with her brain at all.

What's not clear is if the problem is in the muscles themselves, or in the nervous system talking to the muscles. The plan of tests is as follows:

1. Blood tests, from blood taken today
2. EMG, where they stick needles in her legs and shock the muscles to see how they react.
3. Bioposy, where they go take out a bit of muscle tissue and check it.
4. If those don't turn up muscle problems, then it's probably safe to sedate her for an MRI to see if there's anything in her nervous system, or spinal column. Perhaps something is pressing against her spinal cord.

We left Dr. Epstein to go get Quinn's blood drawn for the test. There was much crying and screaming, but not so much because of the needle, but because Quinn hates to have her arms held down. Amy was out on the phone down the hall giving Glo an update, and Glo could hear her screaming. Plus, to make things worse, it took three sticks from three different limbs before they could get enough blood. The picture at right shows the tale of two of them. Seems Quinn's inherited her mama's bad veins.

It's funny to see how tough Amy has become at handling the rough parts of being the mama. This is the Mom who had to leave the office at Quinn's 3-month appointment because she couldn't stand to see Quinn get the shots. Now, the screaming, bawling Quinn is just part of the job. I'm very proud of her.

So finally we got to come home. Quinn fell asleep before we even got out of the parking garage. When we got home, I immediately went to bed for a nap, along with Quinn who was still groggy. Amy's friend Sue brought over Chinese food from Plum Garden, and let me tell you, I never appreciated why Dear Abby always said to take food to parents with sick kids. Now I do.

Glo and Julie & Denny came over to see how things were, and Aunt Julie played with Quinn who was getting back to her normal self. After a while, though, she started showing signs of wear and crankiness, and Grandma Coughlin rocked her to sleep while singing those awful songs of dead Irish mothers.

Go to sleep, little bunny. It's been a long day.