Tonight, while Namine was brushing her teeth, I noticed that she didn’t turn the electric toothbrush on. Not only that, but she was wincing. After she was done, I took the toothbrush to do a once-over like I always do after she’s done. She told me, “Don’t brush my teeth, Daddy! My teeth hurt!”
I don’t know if this really qualifies as a blog post, as it’s more of just rambling. But I’ve been reading up on Pierre Robin Sequence a bit more lately, in light of Namine’s prosthetic (with which she’s doing superbly well, by the way) as well as the search for comfortable glasses (on which I will write more later).
We’re headed off to the hospital tomorrow, for more procedures. Namine is having two things done: dental work and a bronchoscopy.
We knew that we would be getting a follow-up call after Namine’s cleft palate clinic appointments. It was expected, if only because we’d already done the same thing six months ago. What we didn’t expect was the utter stupidity accompanying the call.
A couple weeks ago, Namine had an appointment at the cleft palate clinic. But this was no mere checkup. Six months ago, several doctors, pathologists, and other specialists evaluated Namine for mandibular and tongue surgery. They declared that she should be re-evaluated six months later; this was that re-evaluation.
I can never remember if I’m supposed to refer to Dr. Denny’s team as the “cleft palate team” or just the “palate team.” I imagine it’s the latter, since the good doctor does all sorts or palate work. But since Namine had a cleft palate, that term just sort of stuck with us. At any rate, Namine had a clinic with them yesterday.