It’s been some time since I last wrote a piece for aboutaboywithdowns. The year finished for us in a less than expected way, with a bout of ill health for George. However in pure George style it wasn’t without chaos and memorable moments.
During November 2016 George started to become unwell with a cold and a cough, pretty typical for this time of the year. However it was on the back of several months of him just not being right. He had missed a lot of school days from picking up every bug in school.
So this particular fortnight in November I took him to numerous doctors, they all felt that it was viral and would pass. His chest to them sounded clear, and although his oxygen saturations were low they still sent us on our way.
After a week of him running a temp of 41, I took him down to children’s A&E. within 10 minutes of being there he was rushed through to the medical team and placed on oxygen as his sats were dangerous low.
So there we have George sat on his bed with an oxygen mask more often resting on his forehead than mouth, eating a sandwich and watching something ridiculous on YouTube. The next moment a doctor is arranging him a bed in resus so he can have one to one nursing care and a chest x-ray. Being wheeled round still eating and singing to Bruno Mars he didn’t convey the picture of ill health. Nothing fazes him, or raises his anxiety. He remains in this happy, ‘where there are Ipads, there is happiness’ kind of world.
This experience has reminded me when it comes to our children we do know them better. Following my gut instinct resulted in the diagnosis of pneumonia and successful treatment.
While on the ward, George took the severity of the situation as seriously as he does every day life.
We didn’t prove to be totally popular with every member of staff. The play specialist in particular was unhappy when we were readmitted after only a day of being out. All she had to say to use was ‘oh wreck it ralph is back then’!! To my mind if you are going to put a crash mat on the floor next to a table you should expect the mat might be used as a landing bay in an imaginative game of rocket ships. It wasn’t well received either when we played tiddely winks with lego bricks. That being said we were terrible at it and had quite a few bricks go MIA, only to be found at the nurses station, and he did keep hitting the same doctor with the lego too. Playing Frisbee with sick bowls proved a popular game, it was hard to disguise the thrower of misaimed bowls as we had decorated them with our names and self-portraits.
Through all of this, he still proved popular with the nursing team. He was regularly be given double mash ‘because he is just so cute’.
He was less popular during the wider staff base of the hospital however. On returning from the canteen at lunch he pressed the emergency stop button with keen interest in the lift. Sadly it was full to bursting with a good mix of doctors and nurses rushing to get back to work following lunch. The doors flew open, lights blinded everyone and the emergency panel began to ring. The shame of waiting to be connected to the emergency team with all these eyes on me, George repeatedly saying ‘who’s that’ and loudly playing Bruno Mars signing about putting his hand in his pants was almost more than I could bare. I developed the inappropriate and anxious giggles, which rubbed off on George. Having to explain that it was my son and say how very sorry I was in front of this audience, and attempting to stop George engaging the cross sounding man in further conversation. Never was I so pleased to be back on the ward amongst people who knew what a pain we are.
Having George discharged did give us time to reflect on how poorly he had been and how fragile our children are. I kept him off school for 3 weeks after his admission. I felt so worried that he would become unwell again. Finally sending him back I am still on high alert for bugs and signs of infection. The trouble is you can’t wrap them endlessly in cotton wool, and that isn’t the type of parent that I am.
Having him back at school has meant I can enjoy time with willow, this week we went to our local soft play. Seeing a 3 year old being told off for climbing in to a babies jumperoo caused me to laugh out loud due to the memory it provoked.
Shortly after having willow I decided taking the three of them to a soft play would be a good way to run off some energy. Feeding willow I took me eye off the ball, and yet again it was down to peony to alert me to George’s latest predicament. He had got him self in to the jumperoo and was totally and completely stuck. Putting willow down in the middle the floor thinking at least she cant cause any trouble yet, I went to find someone to help me try and lift him out. I managed to get this man to help me, explaining in a jokey manner what George had done and stating I really should concentrate more to my children. We walked towards George and I advised him not to stand on the baby that I’d left down there on the floor.
The jumperoo needed to be dismantled to free George. The helpful man said before reaching down to George’s legs that he was CRB checked as he was a chief child protection offer. Quickly scooping up willow from the floor and hiding my shock, I just said of course you are!!!