The paediatrician called the other day to say that baby Minx’s blood tests were back and that there were no signs of any reaction at all to anything. His advice was to just try her on egg now, and that if there was any reaction to “Just come back and see us” (like you can just waltz back into the hospital. It takes a special code and secret club membership to see most GPs, never mind specialists…)
My first reaction was, “Yippee, she’s maybe outgrown the allergy already!” My second reaction was, “My baby can have a proper cake on her first birthday!” My third reaction was a reversion back to type: “Hmmm, it was only 2 months ago. And they barely got any blood. Were the tests properly carried out? Was it a false negative?”
Being a cautious sod, I decided to ignore the doctor. Yes, I know, he studied medicine for years and years just for me to ignore his advice and listen to my suspicious, overly-cynical gut feelings. I waited till today to try R on egg in case I had to take her to hospital – no point planning it for a day when the place will be chock-full of the hungover and still drunk. And that’s just the doctors… (Sorry, that’s a cheap joke – the staff at our local hospital are brilliant). So I gave Perma-Wakey-Wakey and Sneak-Into-Your-Bed-6-Times-Last-Night scrambled eggs for breakfast and kept Little Miss Sensitive on porridge and buttered toast. I dipped a finger in the remnants of the egg and gently rubbed it in a circle on the baby’s cheek. 5 mins later, holy schamoley, there’s a bright red circle on her cheek with little blisters inside, just where I wiped the egg. I washed it with some cotton wool and water and it faded within the hour.
So, shall I be feeding my baby some egg now? Shall I hell as like!
I don’t know whether to attempt to see the paediatrician again; I don’t know what purpose it would serve. Perhaps:Trout: “Look, my daughter *is* allergic to egg!” Dr: “Oh, so she is. Gosh” Trout: “Well..?” Dr: “Avoid egg” Trout: <flabberghasted>
I guess I’ll just attempt to get a GP’s appointment and discuss with her what I should do now, if anything. I suppose the specialist needs to know that R is still reacting to egg, regardless of what the blood tests suggest, so perhaps just a letter will be enough.
In other news:
Christmas has obviously had a profound effect on my eldest 2. Today I overheard them bickering over who was going to have The Baby Jesus in bed with them. We are not a religious household and the sum total of my religious instruction to my daughters is that “Christmas celebrates the birthday of a very, very, very nice man called Jesus who lived a very long time ago”. So it was safe to say that the girls had either had a visitation or it was to do with something they’d learned at nursery. It turns out that they’ve been naming their dollies now that they own 4 between them. So there’s Baby Annabell, Baby Ava, Dolly and Baby Jesus. I guess that one must resemble the star of the nursery nativity? Regardless of who they were given to, all toys and dollies, of course, belong to the 2 year old Midi ‘Mine-mine-mine’ Minx.
Still, L’s behaviour is being tempered slightly by the release of the cat and her sentence reprieve that allows her (the cat!) to prowl downstairs at will. L is unafraid of everything and everyone. Except the cat. And of me grassing up her bad behaviour to Santa. Threats to tell Santa still have her shrieking in dread, and most importantly, desisting from whatever carnage she’s causing. Maybe because she believes a tale I made up on the spot: that Santa can make all the toys he gave you disappear in a puff of smoke if you’re extra naughty after Christmas. Yes, I am evil and A Bad Mother. I know.