Last Friday I got an urgent email from DKMS, the worldwide bone marrow donation center I joined last fall, letting me know that I was a match to a patient and asking if I would be willing to follow through with the donation process (there are two types: the standard surgical procedure where you’re put under general anesthesia and marrow is removed from the back of the pubic bone; or a blood-filtering process that takes longer but can often remove the right kind/right amount of stem cells are removed directly from the blood). Of course I was willing — I wouldn’t have joined the registry if I wasn’t — so I set up an appointment for lab work, where several tubes of blood would be collected and tested for a multitude of infectious diseases. Provided that my results are clean — and they will be, of course — I’ll then coordinate the date for the donation and the type of donation (while I have a preference for the blood-filtering process, since it involves nothing more invasive than a few needle sticks, I’m still willing to do the surgical method). There’s no compensation but the moral kind — knowing that I’m a decent human being who is willing to help out another — and I’m just fine with that.
So this morning I went for the lab work. After a brief panicky exchange with the receptionist, who just received the ice packs that the drawn blood must be packed in and sent back with, all was well and I got stuck right away. Since losing so much weight a special vein I’ve nicknamed Pacman has appeared on my left arm, no so much on my inner elbow as on the very top part of the upper elbow, if that makes sense. Because he curves he’s not a good choice for IVs (I learned that the hard way last month, when the tech blew that vein while trying to insert an IV for my CT scan), but he’s excellent for standard blood draws. Why Pacman? Simple — he’s massive and greedily sucks up needles — and quite happily and quickly gives blood. Since he’s so close to the surface — he literally will stick UP by a good third of an inch if I’m well hydrated — finding him is a no-brainer, and sticking is just as simple. Whee. If it’s not too gross, I’ll take a picture of my arm sometime, so you can see Pacman in his full glory.
Yesterday morning Dan and I took Ryan to the elementary school he’ll be going to next fall (where Alyssa also goes) for his IEP. We met with the principal, the kindergarten teacher, and three other staff members whose titles I can’t remember, but I know they work with special-needs children in the school and provide behavioral and reading support, as well as general support for the teachers. The meeting involved lots of paperwork and going over the plan for next year, which includes full-day kindergarten for Ryan (score for both him and I — him for the additional communication/socialization support, me for the freedom of eight hours every day with no kids) and his TSS accompanying him to school and working with him. Ryan did pretty well at the meeting, though he hid between Dan and I when we came into the room, wouldn’t really talk to anyone, and spent half of the meeting in my lap, turned away from everybody.
Later yesterday afternoon Dan and I took the kids to the dentist. Alyssa had an appointment to check out one of her bottom teeth, which did not come out by the beginning of May as it should have in order to make room for the permanent teeth next to it, and also to check out an upper baby tooth, which suddenly turned dark and gray. Ryan had an appointment for a night mouth guard fitting, which he needs since his self-stimming has transitioned from head banging to grinding his teeth (and patting his cheeks). Thanks a lot, autism. Thanks even more, health insurance, for being agreeable to covering any damage caused by teeth grinding, but not covering a simple $300 mouth guard which may be able to prevent a lot of that damage, which could easily amount to thousands of dollars worth of work. (Health insurance companies make no sense sometimes: just like the insurance companies that won’t cover a $25,000 weight loss surgery but will quite happily fork out $5,000 – $10,000 per year for the treatment of obesity-related diseases and conditions)
Anyway. The dentist did x-rays and determined that Alyssa’s top tooth wasn’t damaged or in need of pulling unless it started to bother her. The bottom one, on the other hand, had to come out. Alyssa did great. She was okay with the numbing gel, and only let out a slight whimper when the dentist brandished the long, curved needle to inject numbing stuff into her gums around the tooth (stupid kid — she’s just like me in her insistence on watching the procedure, rather than closing her eyes and enjoying the blissful ignorance of not being able to see what’s going on), and only let out a shrill little squeal when the dentist quickly and efficiently pulled out the baby tooth. She enjoyed picking a toy from the dentist’s treasure chest, and mostly enjoyed my insistence that she take it easy for the rest of the day: gauze for her gums, tylenol for pain and swelling, laying in our bed with her choice of cats and TV shows, soft foods for dinner, etc.
Yesterday evening Dan and I went out to get some groceries, paper products (toilet paper, napkins and the like) and dog food, and of course both kids insisted on going with us (which was probably just as well: heaven forbid my mom have to *gasp* watch our kids for a few hours in exchange for living with us rent-free and us covering the majority of food expenses), so we stopped at Friendly’s for a quick and cheap dinner, which we later regretted. We waited an hour for our food in a mostly deserted restaurant because the frazzled/distracted/idiotic (not sure which) server forgot to send the order through the computer. The food itself was delicious, as was the dessert — with the exception of the mangled, chopped up plastic Reese’s Peanut Butter Cup candy wrapper Alyssa choked on while eating a few bites of Ryan’s ice cream. What the hell, Friendly’s? So reassuring to know that your employees don’t watch what they’re doing when they’re making Friend-zs.
And that has been my week so far — appointments and outings, with as much work as possible squeezed in between the phone calls, appointments, outings and drama that flares up at home since Dan is home this week (have I mentioned that he dislikes my mother very much?). Sigh. And to think, it’s only Tuesday…
It’s awesome that you’re donating bone marrow. I hope that you get to do the filtering type of it, too, but it’s really great that you’re willing to do either type.
Health insurance has never made sense. The fact that they won’t pay for Ryan’s mouth guard doesn’t shock me. Any (and all) insurance that I’ve had won’t pay for any “cosmetic dentistry”, which is how night guards, braces, etc. get grouped. Even when the procedures are definitely non-cosmetic or are required prior to the person having some kind of other procedure that is covered, insurance companies won’t budge an inch on paying for those things.
That is so awesome! It really takes a special person to do that!
That is so nasty about Alyssa finding a rapper in the ice cream. I sure hope that you brought this up to a manager. I would have bitched and make sure that I got my meal free after that.