blowing off steam.
After a 5th failed PICC line attempt in his entire stay, they were stopping his (miniscule) feeds yet again yesterday in order to sedate him so they could make a 6th attempt at a PICC line. Elliott's got scars and bruises all over his arms and legs at this point, from both PICC line attempts, short-term peripheral IVs, and blood draws (if he had a working PICC line, he would not need to be poked for blood draws). He's got dark circles under his eyes and constantly looks tired. I haven't seen him smile in two weeks. He's skinny. Hearing this news, no feeds due to another PICC line attempt that would likely end in failure, well. I blew my top in that hospital room of his. I think I composed myself as best I could, but this mama bear's blood was boiling inside. Boiling.
I did not need to hear why Elliott needed a PICC line. I didn't need excuses on why the other attempts had failed. I did not need to hear from the doctor that if she was in the same situation, she would want what is "best" for her child.
What I did need: To see Elliott get some rest. To see Elliott get his much needed food. To see Elliott not be in pain every bleeping second of the day. In my opinion, that is what is best for Elliott. All other medical tests/medicines/procedures is far secondary. If Elliott's basic needs aren't met, he does not stand a chance. And there was no way in h-e-doublehockeysticks I was consenting to a PICC line that day. No way.
And so. After voicing my opinion, the docs stepped away for a second. They came back, agreed to up Elliott's feeds, cut down on the blood testing, and back off on PICC line attempts, at least for a couple of days. Mama bear here, a little less agitated.