Disco balls

Last night Duckling terrified us by spitting up a mouthful of blood. He had been crying and we were just about to feed him when out blorped a quantity of frothy red saliva. Granted, it was only a teaspoon or two but trust me, any amount of blood to come out of a two-month-old baby is guaranteed to send the parents into a frenzied panic. We immediately packed Duckling and Pin into the car and drove to the local children's hospital.

We were told to wait outside the triage computer, an area that was completely devoid of health care professionals or any staff at all, for that matter. We waited. And waited. S showed up before the intake worker, a feat considering the state of parking in Toronto. We waited. Finally, a girl in jeans showed up, slouched up to the computer, took Duckling's health card and stared at the screen. Eventually she pointed to the name on the card and asked if that was his name.

She asked us to stand three steps to the left beside a wall. So we stood. With two crying babies. Still in a panic. Duckling was conspicuously not bleeding but we still stared obsessively at his mouth, waiting for another rush of blood. A triage nurse asked if my nipples were cracked and bleeding. They weren't. We were sent to another waiting area, and were eventually called in to see a nurse, who asked if my nipples were cracked and bleeding (still no). She did a preliminary examination of Duckling (who was perfectly happy and still not bleeding) and put us in a room to wait for the doctor.

We were seen by a student doctor, who examined Duckling and asked if my nipples were cracked and bleeding. She took Duckling's diaper off to check him, and as she did so we pointed out that he had a hydrocele (benign collection of fluid around the testicle), unaware of the excitement that would result. She put a light to his testicle and watched as it glowed red, over and over, explaining that hydroceles conduct light (unlike tumours). We were less than impressed by his glow-in-the-dark genitalia, because of the whole spitting up blood situation, but she was enthralled.

She found nothing out of the ordinary, went to consult with the doctor in charge, who while sticking a light on the poor kid's balls asked me if my nipples were cracked and bleeding. He then had the student doctor EXAMINE my nipples minutely, desperate to find some evidence of cracked and bleeding nipples so that they would have a diagnosis, but she was unable to find any evidence of cracks and/or bleeding.

They discharged us with a diagnosis of 'probable ingestion of maternal blood' even though there was absolutely no sign that this was the case. There was no mention at all of the disco balls.