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In retrospect, it seems so obvious.
Dec. 10th, 2006 09:03 amMichael and Alex have a little morning coffee ritual. He gets the bag of coffee out of the kitchen cupboard and Alex gleefully shouts, "Coffee BEAN!!" Michael gives her a single bean with a warning not to eat it. She sniffs it, savors the odor, and then scoots it around her highchair tray while he grinds the beans for his coffee.
This morning, he had just turned his back to put the beans in the grinder when a little voice announced from the highchair:
"Uh oh. Coffee bean in nose."
Michael got out the flashlight, and indeed, the coffee bean was clearly visible far up inside Alex's right nostril.
He called me downstairs. I took a horrified look with the flashlight and went straight for the phone to call the pediatrician. Then I burst out laughing. "Okay, Michael, now we're REALLY parents."
Alex sneezed several times, pawed at her nose, cried a little. I held her on my lap and explained that the doctor would take the coffee bean out. Michael went off to shower while we waited for a callback from the doctor.
The pediatrician on call explained that there's a little pouch of flesh inside the nose that objects can easily get stuck behind. That causes swelling, which makes the objects harder to remove. The removal process involves decongestant drops to reduce the swelling, followed by long calipers of a sort that they don't carry in their office. She arranged for us to take Alex to the Urgent Care clinic at a semi-suburban hospital - a sort of stepped-down emergency room where a doctor from our own pediatric practice would see us.
I called the usher coordinator at church to tell her I needed an emergency replacement. Hauled Alex upstairs and got myself dressed. Michael emerged from the shower and threw some clothes on. "I'm just going to brush my teeth, and then we can go," I told him.
Alex immediately jumped in with "Come with me? Alex brush teeth." So I brought her into the bathroom with me and put toothpaste on her brush. We brushed our teeth. Then Alex started pawing violently at the outside of her nose again.
"The doctor's going to take the coffee bean - "
tick.
I picked the coffee bean up off the floor.
We called and left a message for the on-call doctor, saying that we weren't coming in. She returned it a few minutes later, and, sounding very pleased, explained that caffeine reduces swelling. (That's why people put wet teabags on puffy eyes.) Her theory is that the caffeine in the coffee bean kept Alex's nose from swelling shut, allowing the bean to be dislodged. "If you're going to get a foreign object in the nose, it's good to have it be a coffee bean! Maybe I should write a paper about this," she said cheerfully.
"Maybe we should stop letting her smell the coffee," I said. Michael and the doctor both agreed.
This morning, he had just turned his back to put the beans in the grinder when a little voice announced from the highchair:
"Uh oh. Coffee bean in nose."
Michael got out the flashlight, and indeed, the coffee bean was clearly visible far up inside Alex's right nostril.
He called me downstairs. I took a horrified look with the flashlight and went straight for the phone to call the pediatrician. Then I burst out laughing. "Okay, Michael, now we're REALLY parents."
Alex sneezed several times, pawed at her nose, cried a little. I held her on my lap and explained that the doctor would take the coffee bean out. Michael went off to shower while we waited for a callback from the doctor.
The pediatrician on call explained that there's a little pouch of flesh inside the nose that objects can easily get stuck behind. That causes swelling, which makes the objects harder to remove. The removal process involves decongestant drops to reduce the swelling, followed by long calipers of a sort that they don't carry in their office. She arranged for us to take Alex to the Urgent Care clinic at a semi-suburban hospital - a sort of stepped-down emergency room where a doctor from our own pediatric practice would see us.
I called the usher coordinator at church to tell her I needed an emergency replacement. Hauled Alex upstairs and got myself dressed. Michael emerged from the shower and threw some clothes on. "I'm just going to brush my teeth, and then we can go," I told him.
Alex immediately jumped in with "Come with me? Alex brush teeth." So I brought her into the bathroom with me and put toothpaste on her brush. We brushed our teeth. Then Alex started pawing violently at the outside of her nose again.
"The doctor's going to take the coffee bean - "
tick.
I picked the coffee bean up off the floor.
We called and left a message for the on-call doctor, saying that we weren't coming in. She returned it a few minutes later, and, sounding very pleased, explained that caffeine reduces swelling. (That's why people put wet teabags on puffy eyes.) Her theory is that the caffeine in the coffee bean kept Alex's nose from swelling shut, allowing the bean to be dislodged. "If you're going to get a foreign object in the nose, it's good to have it be a coffee bean! Maybe I should write a paper about this," she said cheerfully.
"Maybe we should stop letting her smell the coffee," I said. Michael and the doctor both agreed.
