It’s Friday 13th, which means Mini Minx was due her MMR, Meningitis C and HiB booster vaccinations. Well, until the Health Visitor noticed that Mini’s file had ‘egg allergy’ written on it in big red letters.
I reassured her that I’d done a lot of research (proper research: on the BMJ rather than Mumsnet) on MMR with egg allergy, and that the majority of babies reacting to the vaccination don’t have an egg allergy; they’re far more likely to react to the neomycin or glycerin in it. And there’s no real egg material in it: it’s made with chick embryos. There was no longer a standard protocol for egg allergy babies having the MMR in a hospital with a paediatric department. I was quite happy that so long as there was adrenaline on the premises, that we were more than covered. Nor was I concerned about her having 3 vaccinations at once: she’d be exposed to far more things attacking her immune system in a standard day, chewing and licking the things that she does.
I did my best impression of a nonchalent, non-neurotic mother. So I think the Health Visitor over-compensated. She listened politely, noted my lack of concern, then explained that she would have to administer said adrenaline in an emergency, and she wasn’t happy. One of the GPs recommended that Mini Minx not have the MMR on the premises, and that she was to have it in the local hospital.
Trying really hard not to look irritated (to be fair, I do understand why she wanted to protect herself. And better over-cautious than under-cautious, I guess), I asked how long the appointment might take to come through – a few weeks? A month?
“Oh, much longer. It’ll take quite a while for the letter to be written by the doctor and sent to the hospital, then they have to open it, then respond, then make an appointment… It’ll be quite a few months,” she said.
Oh. So in the meantime, my baby gets to risk all the terrible side effects that a disease like measles can bring. Great.
Still, my poor, wee unsuspecting baba got her 2 booster vaccines. And yes, she looked at me as if I’d let the Child Eating Witch attack her.
IN OTHER NEWS:
Mini may only be 13 months, and I do tend to baby her, but she does understand a fair old bit. She insisted on wearing her favourite hat (a red and purple tartan thing), merrily shouting, “Ah! Ah! Ah!” (well, imagine saying ‘hat’ with a dropped aitch and a glottal stop) and patting her head. Then she’d whip it on and off her little head to make me laugh. And when I stopped laughing, the little minx smacked me on the bonce, shouted “Ah!” and tried to fit it on me.
For the first time ever, she actually went down in her cot for a nap without a fight. I put her in her sleeping bag, she waved goodbye to the flowers, the trees, the sea, the cars, the birdies, the cars and the houses (!), then lay quietly in her cot. I gave her a little Tiny Tears doll that she seems quite fond of, and she poked it in the eyes. I asked her where the dolly’s nose was? She poked it in the nose. Cute – I know she knows what noses are because “Rub noses!” is her favourite game, but I didn’t know she could translate that onto a dolly.