Last night our pediatrician read C.'s lousy liver profile for the first time. He was far more alarmed by them - and by the low platelets - than C.'s neurologist was. And he's a decidedly non-alarmist MD.
He researched the topic on-line before concluding that the most likely culprit is the valproic acid, an infamous liver-wrecker, he said. He then enlightened me about the symptoms and dangers of liver toxicity.
Aside from being the kindest, most compassionate and selfless doctor I know, he is a graduate of Harvard Medical School. So there's a good chance he's right.
Oh, and I forgot to add that he's modest to a fault. He referred to himself as "just some shmo" compared to the neurologist whose culprits of choice were either the cannabis or a virus.
I intended to postpone the re-check of C.'s blood until next week because she has a slight cold. I figured that if it is a virus she'd better be thoroughly virus-free before repeating the blood-work.
But I'm a sucker for alarm. So the hubby and I texted and called our health maintenance orgnization's visiting nurse and described the dire situation to him. Sweet soul that he is, he swung by this morning ("I always say, there's no big difference between seeing 29 patients and 30": that's a real quote from the nurse).
The tension is high now. But at least we'll be wiser in a few hours.
No comments:
Post a Comment