![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png){kind=small}
![[identity profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/openid.png){kind=small}
When the doctors had said the results would be back mid-morning, they hadn't been exaggerating. It was 10:00 AM on the dot when a doctor entered Quinn's room to find Flynn on the bed with his patient, as well as Quinn's parents and Eamon over to the side playing competitive crossword. "OH! It's 'Utopia'! Suck on that, Eamon!" Maree said to her son, and then she turned to face the doctor. "Erm...sorry."
The doctor just looked bemused as he turned to Quinn, who was grinning at his mother. "How are you feeling this morning, Mr Wakefield?"
"Better, actually." Quinn admitted, sitting up a little straighter in his bed. "Not as achey. And I don't think it's just the drugs..."
"No, I'm not surprised you're feeling better. The results of your blood and tissue tests came back." Flynn's nose wrinkled, because he did not like the sound of 'tissue tests'. It was probably a good thing he hadn't been there for that one. It sounded like something he would have punched someone for... "There was a high concentration of iron in the blood and liver tissue sample. It's called Haemochromatosis. It's a genetic disease which causes high concentrations of iron to accumulate in the blood and organs. Specifically, the pancreas, which can cause it to be misdiagnosed as diabetes. The reason you feel better today, is because of the blood you gave for your blood test."
Quinn just sat there for a moment, because it was all very confusing. "So uhm...I don't have diabetes?"
"No."
"I have this...iron thingywhoosits."
"Haemochromatosis, yes." The doctor nodded patiently.
"And that's...good? Or...bad?" Quinn asked, feeling rather tiny.
"The condition is manageable. We did catch this early, which is entirely fortuitous. The levels of iron in your blood haven't reached a critical state. And we can keep them from getting that way, by periodic phlebotomies."
"By...a what?" Eamon asked from the other side of them room. "You mean like...taking his brain out his nose?!"
"No!" The doctor laughed then. "Not a lobotomy. A phlebotomy. Blood-letting."
Quinn turned white and Flynn's face took on a dangerous look. "Blood-letting!? You're going to like...cut him open?"
"He will not be harmed." The doctor said calmly. "Most likely, the only side-effects will be a little dizzyness directly afterwards, and being a little tired on the day of the procedure. It will have to happen weekly at first. Until the blood gets down to a manageable level. Less than 20 milligrams of ferratin per litre. After that, you'll only need to have it done about 4 times a year in the form of blood donations. More if you start to feel the joint pain again. You'll have to watch your diet. You wil have to limit your intake of things high in iron as well as sugar for a little while, as pancreas have been slightly compromised, but not enough to worry about insulin treatment. We'll ensure that they get better instead of worse. We'll send a nurse over to complete your first procedure, and then you can go home. How does that sound?"
Quinn looked up at the doctor and he rubbed his eye. "Well...uhm. Okay. Better than...you know...dying."
"I'd say so." The doctor patted his shoulder. "Now, because this condition is genetic, your parents should be screened for it." He turned to them with a smile. "It's a simple procedure and-"
"No...no we're not...Quinn is our nephew." Bob explained. "We adopted him."
"Ah, I see. I'd still like to run the test. Is there any way you can get in contact with your parents?" The doctor asked Quinn.
"I...uhm. Yeah...yeah, I could-"
"Good. I'll leave you to it then." The doctor left the room, leaving them all veiled in a stony silence. Quinn's condition was hardly the worst thing in the world. He was going to be just fine. And while blood-letting didn't sound pleasant, it was a whole world of more pleasant than talking to his parents...
The doctor just looked bemused as he turned to Quinn, who was grinning at his mother. "How are you feeling this morning, Mr Wakefield?"
"Better, actually." Quinn admitted, sitting up a little straighter in his bed. "Not as achey. And I don't think it's just the drugs..."
"No, I'm not surprised you're feeling better. The results of your blood and tissue tests came back." Flynn's nose wrinkled, because he did not like the sound of 'tissue tests'. It was probably a good thing he hadn't been there for that one. It sounded like something he would have punched someone for... "There was a high concentration of iron in the blood and liver tissue sample. It's called Haemochromatosis. It's a genetic disease which causes high concentrations of iron to accumulate in the blood and organs. Specifically, the pancreas, which can cause it to be misdiagnosed as diabetes. The reason you feel better today, is because of the blood you gave for your blood test."
Quinn just sat there for a moment, because it was all very confusing. "So uhm...I don't have diabetes?"
"No."
"I have this...iron thingywhoosits."
"Haemochromatosis, yes." The doctor nodded patiently.
"And that's...good? Or...bad?" Quinn asked, feeling rather tiny.
"The condition is manageable. We did catch this early, which is entirely fortuitous. The levels of iron in your blood haven't reached a critical state. And we can keep them from getting that way, by periodic phlebotomies."
"By...a what?" Eamon asked from the other side of them room. "You mean like...taking his brain out his nose?!"
"No!" The doctor laughed then. "Not a lobotomy. A phlebotomy. Blood-letting."
Quinn turned white and Flynn's face took on a dangerous look. "Blood-letting!? You're going to like...cut him open?"
"He will not be harmed." The doctor said calmly. "Most likely, the only side-effects will be a little dizzyness directly afterwards, and being a little tired on the day of the procedure. It will have to happen weekly at first. Until the blood gets down to a manageable level. Less than 20 milligrams of ferratin per litre. After that, you'll only need to have it done about 4 times a year in the form of blood donations. More if you start to feel the joint pain again. You'll have to watch your diet. You wil have to limit your intake of things high in iron as well as sugar for a little while, as pancreas have been slightly compromised, but not enough to worry about insulin treatment. We'll ensure that they get better instead of worse. We'll send a nurse over to complete your first procedure, and then you can go home. How does that sound?"
Quinn looked up at the doctor and he rubbed his eye. "Well...uhm. Okay. Better than...you know...dying."
"I'd say so." The doctor patted his shoulder. "Now, because this condition is genetic, your parents should be screened for it." He turned to them with a smile. "It's a simple procedure and-"
"No...no we're not...Quinn is our nephew." Bob explained. "We adopted him."
"Ah, I see. I'd still like to run the test. Is there any way you can get in contact with your parents?" The doctor asked Quinn.
"I...uhm. Yeah...yeah, I could-"
"Good. I'll leave you to it then." The doctor left the room, leaving them all veiled in a stony silence. Quinn's condition was hardly the worst thing in the world. He was going to be just fine. And while blood-letting didn't sound pleasant, it was a whole world of more pleasant than talking to his parents...
![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}