Claire nodded. ‘OK, you’ve passed your viva.’ She gave him what she hoped was a big-sister grin. ‘Tills, we want to monitor Miles’s ECG, his Us and Es, bilirubin, glucose—you know there’s a risk of rebound hypoglycaemia after the transfusion—and calcium.’
‘OK. And are we doing phototherapy after that?’
‘Yes. The usual—keep him uncovered as much as possible, keep an eye on his temperature and fluid loss and keep checking the eye shields to make sure they’re not irritating his eyes,’ Claire confirmed.
‘And pinch a surgeon’s mask to use as a mini-nappy to protect his gonads from chromatic radiation damage,’ Tilly added.
‘Why don’t we use a phototherapy blanket?’ Eliot asked, referring to the fibre-optic filaments which carried a high-intensity halogen light source, woven into a pad which the baby could lie on. ‘Then he wouldn’t need an eye shield, and it’ll be easier for Estée to care for him.’
‘We don’t have any,’ Claire told him. ‘We’re fundraising at the moment. So if you want to buy some raffle tickets...’
He rolled his eyes. ‘OK, OK. Message received and understood.’
‘And you’re a doctor, so there’s a minimum purchase level of ten tickets,’ Tilly added.
‘I think I’ll go and get that consent form signed, before you two get too carried away,’ Eliot said with a grin.
‘Like I said. He’s lovely,’ Tilly muttered to Claire when Eliot had gone. ‘He’d be good for you.’
‘Like I said, it’s not going to happen,’ Claire muttered back.
If only...
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