Balls and Walnuts
more than you ever wanted to know
I’d intended to write last night
I really did. If nothing else, I had to rave about Charlie Huston’s conclusion to the Hank Thompson trilogy, A Dangerous Man, which was every bit as good as the first two books in the series. If you’re shying away from these books because you’re not a fan of the hardboiled shoot-em-up genre, you don’t know what you’re missing, because this story is so much more than that.
But I am on call, and after a quiet first part of the week, I finally saw some action. Got called in for a pediatric foreign body, which was billed as dog food-in-the-nose and turned out to be peanut-in-the-nose. Big difference there, since a piece of dog food would tend to break apart with manipulation, might dissolve somewhat over time, and is, well, smaller than the average peanut. Peanuts, on the other hand, won’t dissolve, will tend to swell as they hydrate, and are HUGE compared to the size of the toddler nose.
I felt a little reluctant going in since I knew I wouldn’t have the right tool. The right tool is a right-angle hook, a delicate but strong instrument perfect for getting behind something and pulling it out. All they had at urgent care was an alligator forceps (so named for the way the jaws of the forceps are shaped, and the way they open), which was all wrong for the job.
I kludged together three right-angle hooks at home, one from a fragment of clothes hanger, two more from lengths of copper wire, but all were far too big and nasty for the job. In desperation, I went through our Big Black Box of Goodies, which is primarily stocked for stopping nose bleeds, draining pus, and suturing lacerations. And lo and behold, like a gift from heaven, I found (separately wrapped, nothing else like it in the box) the perfect right-angle hook.
After that, it was a simple matter of overcoming the feeling that I was the reincarnation of a gestapo torturer long enough to dig this thing out of the child’s nose. Half the peanut came out with my instrument. When the kid sneezed, the other half beaned one of the nurses assisting me. Hazard of the profession, I guess.
Mom was happy, the nurses were happy, and the child was relieved if not happy. Mom made her thank me, though. I’m not sure how I feel about that. It’s kind of like making your kid thank you for administering corporal punishment.
Anyway, that’s how my weekend started. And you?
D.
Just like English teachers should keep a catalog of all the funny things students write/say, doctors should keep stories like the shooting peanut. I found it funny.
And I’m glad to hear the mother made the kid say thank you.