Another bullet dodged as we learned from Drew’s urologist that surgery won’t be necessary (yet) to correct a certain issue that Drew suffers. I’ll continue to keep it private out of respect for Drew’s privacy, but let’s just call it “a case of shyness.” Now, coming in April he is to see an ENT after being diagnosed with obstructive sleep apnea for a consult during which it we may be in the firing range again as it may be decided to remove his tonsils.
I’m dreading Friday because Drew is scheduled for immunizations at his pediatrician’s office. I’m almost sick to my stomach about it. I can’t bear the thought of Drew being in pain or terror as he will be immediately upon seeing the familiar equipment. Drew has been through so many sticks due to his blood disorder that he has been sufficiently traumatized to have learned very quick what to run from. And, to hold him down enabling the nurses with kind intentions to hurt him is the hardest part. He looks up at me with his teary eyes begging for help while I don’t do anything to stop the pain. UGH!!! I won’t be disappointed if the pediatrician’s office has an unexplained power outage that causes them to have to reschedule all appointments for that day. Adding to my concern is the recent presence of petechia, small pin-point non-raised red blemishes caused my minor hemorrhages of the red blood vessels which are present when platelets are low. Remember, Drew has thrombocytapenia, a blood disorder characterized by a low platelet count. Platelets make the blood clot so the fewer platelets, the more increased bleeding. Drew’s thrombocytapenia has been relatively mild since he was two months old and hasn’t been a major issue in his daily life. He experiences very light patches of petechia once in a blue moon, but this week has shown a significant increase. This can be a concern knowing he is scheduled for shots which can be problematic when you have low platelets. I wasn’t planning on having his platelets checked due to the lack of symptoms, but I’m a little worried now. This of course means an additional stick. Even though it’s been over three years since he’s had a level low enough to justify a platelet transfusion, I still get a slight panic when I see even the slightest symptom.
In order to keep myself from running outside and hot-boxing an entire pack of cigarettes, I’m going to change the subject now. After our trip to Nashville, I return home to find a tall narrow box on our porch (taller than me.) For a second, I recalled a warning text message from my brother describing a new horrible terroristic act that is making it’s round involving aluminum foil and Drano and the explosive reaction. I wasn’t expecting a package, but I quickly decided this box was much too tall and skinny. So, I drug it inside and the box is different from the typical box you receive in the fact that it has a top that slides over the box, kind of like a really big square tube of chapstick. I cut the tape and slowly slide the top off. Now, I don’t know if it was unintentional, or meant as a prank, but pink styrofoam popcorn started to pour out by the hundreds onto my floor. I had a momentary feeling of panic thinking, “Oh god, stooooooooop!” but I couldn’t do it outside as I didn’t want to be responsible for trashing the neighborhood so I had no other choice but to just allow the popcorn to fall out. Scratching my head and stunned at the mess in my floor, I finally look up to the box to see the contents. There is about 6-7 inches of a wooden stick poking out of the top. I instinctively tug on the stick but naturally, it causes the popcorn still remaining in this section of the box to pour out. The box doesn’t have flaps to open down the tall sides so short of manually cutting through the box, my only choice is to allow an even bigger mess to take over my dining room. I pull the stick out and popcorn is flowing like a waterfall burying my feet up to my ankles. Drew, once exhausted, head-bobbing, eye-drooping, forbidden-from-going-to-sleep-on-the-drive-home-so-he-would-go-to-bed-on-time, immediately perked up and did what any other four-year-old boy would do when faced with a pile of pink popcorn: jump in it and “swim”. Drew had a grand ol’ time “swimming” in the popcorn and even better time inside the box which still contained some popcorn. So, naturally, he crawls in a burrows through the popcorn a la a groundhog to the bottom of the box and out again. I must admit, despite the huge mess, I was now giggling uncontrollably. In the end, it was a hockey stick signed by a hockey team, The Phoenix Coyotes, donated by a friend in Arizona for our Drew Walking Tall auction. Nice gift. UPS can kiss my ass for their packaging. Although, we’ll reuse the popcorn as stuffing for some of our baskets so it’s a blessing in disguise!