Nothing Worse Than a Sick Kid

Last week we had a stint at Kings with Woody, who had Bronchiolitis. Thankfully he was well enough to be discharged the next day, but the recovery has been sloooooow.

I am writing this from the sofa, on my phone, whilst he sleeps on me. My arm is dead, I’ve got a hundred things to do, but right now I’m focusing on him.

Here’s what this episode has taught me:

• Bronchiolitis is really common. But anything that makes your child struggle to breathe is horrendous and worrying. Divorce is really common, doesn’t mean you’d wish it on any one.

• Bronchiolitis is impossible to spell. Especially if you are dyslexic (yes I am dyslexic, that combined with being a rushed mum is the explanation for the millions of typos/missed words in every post).

  Back to Woody and his illness..

• The stress levels are almost overwhelming. You can feel them with every cell of your body. Is it possible to get dehydrated from stress? I always get insanely thirsty in stressful situations.

• And The Guilt. I sent him to nursery knowing he was under the weather because I had a crazy day at work. That night we ended up in hospital. I can not explain HOW GUILTY I FEEL. I keep telling myself that I had to make a judgement. If you had a day off every time your child had a snotty nose you’d never work. But oh god that guilt.

• Adrenalin/exhaustion makes you do weird stuff. I took it upon myself to write some scripts for work whilst perched on a hospital bed. Like the time I went into the office 48 hrs after losing one of my closet family friends. I think it’s a way of coping. But it is bonkers.

• Why are there always people in A&E complaining about the ‘slow service’?! – have a word with yourself folks. If you or your kid were ill enough to require being seen quickly, you’d get seen quickly. Otherwise wait your turn.

• Unless its a blue-lights job. It’s worth taking an extra 5 minutes to pack a proper bag for an A&E. Pretty much a version of your labour bag.  I previously wrote a handy list about it here. Vitals include:

• -Comfy trousers. I was wearing a pretty awesome high-waisted pair of American Apparel Disco Pants. Which are a) high-waisted b) skin-tight c) vastly inappropriate for an all night vigil on a chair.

• snacks.

• a towel.

• clean knickers.

• phone-charger.

• water (see above point about thirst).

•  formula. Important to keep them drinking. Even for predominantly breastfeed babies, a bottle is good, because you can see how much they have had to drink.

• Insult to Injury. Please tell me other families injure themselves whilst in a&e?!? – falling face first off the buggy, almost choking on a balloon made out of a blue glove.

• Don’t introduce a toddler to the water cooler to pass time. Cue lots of spilling, excessive water drinking. Inevitable pissing of pants.

• Those beeping machines are a nightmare. Beep beep beep beep. Impossible not to stare at those numbers obsessively.

• Miniature medical equipment: a cot gurney, a tiny gown, a tiny cannula in a padded foot. Gut wrench.

• You never feel more of an adult when you do holding your child in a hospital room. The responsibility weighs heavy.

• Trust your instinct. They are medical experts, but you are the expert on your child. Together you are a Dream Team. Don’t be afraid to voice your opinions or ideas.

• Maybe its because I am British, but I felt absolutely mortified having to repeatedly press that red help button to call the nurses. Like clicking your fingers and expecting someone to come – cringe.

• Power of your voice. Holding a mask to Woody’s face was a horrendous experience.  Speak words of reassurance immediately calmed him and helped me too.

• Sleep is the best remedy. The more you can make that happen the better. We pulled out the newborn tricks – lying on the sofa with him, pushing the buggy in the house, co-sleeping. Forget bad habits: THE KIP IS KING.

• School dinners food. In the face of a crisis hubby still ‘managed’ to eat a apple crumble and custard.

• The NHS are incredible. It constantly astounds me that we have all those experts and wonderful people on hand to help us 24/7.

• Not just doctors and nurses but the dinner ladies and porters too (even the one who moved us up on to the ward and was frankly a terrible driver) – they are all vital and amazing and make such a difference.

• There’s nothing like a stint on a children’s ward to make you feel grateful. Even short spells in hospital are heartbreaking – those parents and kids who go through it for longer and more often. They are heroes. 

• What on earth do people in other countries do without tea in these dark moments? Really. I’d be lost.