Just a quick update (no pictures this time), as William went in for his 15-month checkup on January 6. You can see his vital statistics on his page, but the very short version is that he’s growing splendidly: he’s at the 87^th percentile in height and the 70^th percentile in weight. And, though this isn’t shown on the page, his head circumference is 48 ¼ cm., which puts him at the 84^th percentile. He’s a big boy, and if his appetite is any indication, he’s likely to stay that way.

He did give us a bit of a scare this week, however, that will hopefully make for a good story one day. But I’m not sure we’re there yet. Julia had Girl Scouts on Thursday—her troop was meeting to plan out and rally around cookie sales, which start next month—and she was resplendent in her uniform vest, which is decked out with patches, badges, and pins. When she and Julie came home after the meeting, she ditched her vest in the kitchen before heading off to kill time with Joe while Julie got William ready for bed. A little while later, he came toddling into his bedroom working over something in his mouth: the back portion of one of Julia’s membership pins from her uniform. Julie quickly removed the small, metal piece from his mouth, but the other part—the part with the actual sharp pin—was nowhere to be found.

Naturally, Julie acted quickly: she rounded up Julia and Joe, who were extremely cooperative considering it was late in the evening and they hadn’t had dinner yet; got everyone packed back into the van; and headed off the the urgent care clinic just up the road in Willow Glen. She called me on the way (I was in the car, headed home from Palo Alto) to let me know I should meet them there. And that’s where things got really interesting.

As it turns out, thanks to the vagaries of the U.S. health care system, the folks at the urgent care clinic couldn’t treat William under our insurance without us spending hundreds or thousands of dollars out of pocket. So they advised us to take him to the emergency room to be checked out. “Go to Good Sam,” one of the nurses advised, ”it’s not the closest, but that’s where you want to go.” I was still driving at the time, so Julie texted me to let me know of the change in plans, and we all headed off to Good Samaritan Hopsital.

Or, I should say, we headed off to what we thought was Good Samaritan Hospital. Where we really ended up, without realizing it until we were there, was Valley Medical Center. I arrived first, and realized after wending my way through what seemed like miles of construction to the emergency room, that the location we had always thought housed Good Sam was, in fact, a completely different hospital. When Julie and the kids turned up a few minutes later, I told her that it looked like we were in the wrong place, but when I asked if she wanted to keep going, the answer was an emphatic no. So, after giving me the keys to the van so I could move it to an actual lot, she and the kids headed off to the ER.

It turns out that Valley Medical is an interesting facility. They bill themselves as the community’s health care safety net, and the clientele in the emergency room reflected that mission, comprising an eclectic mix of people from all walks of life. Furthermore, it was busy: there was a apparently a lot going on that Thursday night. As busy as they were, they got William checked in and into an exam room pretty quickly, while I took the older kids home for dinner and bedtime.

Truth be told, William was chipper and happy the whole time, and didn’t show any obvious signs of distress. The doctors did a quick examination and explained that if the pin had caused any problems on the way down, he’d be in pain and probably coughing up blood. Furthermore, they elaborated, the most likely problem he was likely to encounter was an obstruction in his intestines or bowels, in which case he’d be feverish and inconsolable. With that in mind, they advised against doing an x-ray or any more invasive procedures, and advised us to call our pediatrician in the morning. And also to look for the pin at home.

With that in mind, Julie called Dr. Kim’s office first thing the next morning, and they told her to bring still–chipper William into the urgent care clinic there. They (and Julie) decided to do an x-ray after all, and it revealed… nothing. No sign of the pin at all. When it was all said and done, we were left with a few things: a happy, slightly irradiated toddler; stressed–out older kids who were worried about their older brother; as–yet undetermined medical bills; even–more–tired–than–usual parents; and a pin that is still missing in action. There are worse outcomes.