Eden and the Hospital, Acte Trois

Yesterday was Transfusion Day, where happy little girls with no platelets in their blood go and get topped off for a few more weeks. Last week she rocked the platelets to the tune of 78,000, so yesterday--even though technically she was just going in for another blood test--we packed bags with clothes, diapers, baby toys and grown-up toys (because who wants to spend a day in the hospital without some Mario Kart action, really?), grabbed an aunt, and headed off bright and early. Call it a sense of foreboding.

And whad'ya know? She scored 53,000. Big surprise.

So Eden got a needle stuck in a vein for the third time in her life. Her foot again, so no fun foam hand-board for her to play with and chew on and get generally sloppy. She was much less happy about this round of IVIg, as well; she had less of the "this is all so new and interesting and why does that man keep coming by with wild horses on his shirt (Nurse Tim, who wins my award for Nicest Male Nurse Ever)" reaction and more of the rockstar-ish "this again? How about a little creativity around here. This is, like, SO lame, people" 'tude. And who can blame her? If I was 5 months old and had large quantities of fluid pushed into my body from location other than my mouth, I'd probably be a little pissed too.