On Monday, I called and sounded serious and worried at the newly returned hemophilia nurse practitioner. The NP agreed with my concern, and emailed her counterpart over at ORL (ear, nose and throat). The counterpart emailed everyone in ORL and within moments, two doctors had offered an emergency consult for 8 am this morning. Bring Amicar (secondary clotting medicine), they said. Have his factor levels high - we may just fix this in the office.
But no. We talked and debated (stop this cycle with mild methods? try and stop future cycles with aggressive methods)? and came to grips with the ORL team's absolute refusal to do the cautery in the office. No, they'll do it in the surgical suite, under general anasthesia. Sigh.
The Man looked at me. I'm just as happy not to do this, he said. A veteran of near-daily nosebleeds, I disagreed. If we can save him future such experiences, I said, I think we should. For all that it's in the OR, this is a truly minor procedure. I vote we do it. The ORL guy watched us, and waited. Finally, I just don't have the experience that you do on this subject, the Man told me and he turned to the ORL doc. Let's do it, he told the doc, and lo! wheels were set in motion.
I'm persuaded that the ORL nurse practitioner has a real future as a successful dogsbody in some military camp. Over the next hour or so, I watched her wheedle, persuade and generally sidestep anyone who should give her what she wanted, but wasn't inclined to do so immediately. We escaped briefly to take the Eldest to camp, before she called us back: the pre-op team wanted a pre-operative consult. We were in for tomorrow morning.
To gilg our lily, the Eldest managed to produce a couple of nosebleeds in the three hours it took to do the pre-op merrygoround. Bless magid, who turned up to supervise small hungry children - on zero notice! - and brought food with her. I could think of no better thank you than to feed her in return. It was a feast tonight, and now - sated - we rest. I'll pack a bag with things so fun that they are irresistably distracting to a child forbidden to eat - and tomorrow we go to the hospital to talk to the nice man with the white-hot poker (to paraphrase a nearly-funny comment).
Admittedly, I've been a little worried about the Eldest's state of mental being, but I've finally decided that the current irritability and tiredness is more physical (anemia) than psychological. True, the two feed on each other, but if we fix one, we give the other a chance to heal. I was still trying to persuade myself when I came across this image tonight, and I'm easing back on the concerned mama role. Here is the Eldest's self-portrait from the last time we spent the day in the hospital. Note the IV he's drawn on one arm, and the grin on the face.
Oh, yes. We should be just fine. But I reserve the right to worry - just a wee bit - until I see him, pokered up and sleepy.
The Night Before Pasta, or basil-artichoke pesto pasta
1 big bunch of basil, well washed and dried
4 cloves of garlic
1/3rd-1/2 cups olive oil
1/2 tsp salt
2 cans artichoke, drained
1/3rd cup sunflower seeds (or nuts!)
optional: lemon zest
Whirl garlic and zest (if using) in food processor. Add remaining ingredients, and whirl until well blended. Mix gently with freshly cooked pasta, and see if you can persuade your children to pick nasturtium flowers to set prettily on top. Mine needed little encouragement - it was rather more challenging to get them not to denude the plant entirely. (The Toddles is a touch unclear on what's an herb and what's a plain leaf)
Note: this makes a wonderfully creamy pesto, and I had some leftover for tomorrow! It'll make a great dip. But, try and balance your meal with something really light and clean, like mango-tomato salsa or a pineapple salsa.