I hit the eleven month mark and Dad drags me off for another scan. This time he starves me from one in the morning and promises to feed me after the scan at about eight. We get to this big hospital at the ungodly hour of 6.30am and proceed to wait and wait and wait. They then tell him they can only do me at 9.30 as the nice man that puts you to sleep is running late. By now my tummy is rumbling something serious and I need food and drink badly. I start to yell and cry but they ignore me at first. Eventually Dad throws his toys out the proverbial cot and attacks the management. They try to calm him down and he threatens to walk out. Eventually they call my number and down we go to this humongous machine. I am very unhappy and crying and thrashing about. This sleep mechanic then holds me down and proceeds to gas me unconscious. Dad take one look at this and bursts into tears. I was so embarrassed. One of the nurses even passed him a box of tissues. Can’t imagine what they must have thought. I drift off and they drug me further. Half an hour its all over and am I ready for food. I knock down two bottles and as soon as we are home I polish off four servings of food. This fasting stuff is not for me. They give Dad a CD showing the inside of my head which looks like a scary movie. Once again the report is so so with no major problems. Once again I told them not to waste so much money. Dad still insists on a breakdown from one more baby brain expert before he calls it a day and lets me be me, small head and all. PS Dad blames the fuzzy picture on the magnetic waves. I say he needs to sharpen up.
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