NotSheep

A fitful night last night for several of us, I think. Certainly I didn’t sleep well, and I suspect Barney - on the other side of Toby, who was beside me - didn’t either. I did wake him to try to get him to move to his own bed before I went to bed, but he was a bit sleep-stupid and looked at me as if he didn’t know who I was, so I left him. I wished later that I’d made him move though, as he kept stealing all the duvet - we were using one that wasn’t big enough for the bed, because Jack had thrown up on the big one earlier. So every time I woke and stole the duvet back, Barney woke too, and grumbled under his breath. Scratchy, sleeping in a recliner chair beside a hospital bed, certainly didn’t get a peaceful night, and Jack didn’t go to sleep until 10.30, then was woken twice to give him a nebuliser treatment - or to try, as he’d decided he was having nothing to do with it. His oxygen levels remained good throughout the night though, so they decided not to force the issue, and this morning he was up and cheerful by 8 a.m.

I headed into the hospital soon after 8, stopping on the way to pick up breakfast for Scratchy (who I figured wouldn’t have been fed) and me (who I knew hadn’t eaten) and Jack (who I figured would be put out if I brought breakfast for everyone except him ) I wanted to get there early to see Jack, of course, but I also wanted to be there before the consultant did his rounds, as I wanted to ask about the oral steroids and antibiotics, and I know better than to expect Scratchy to get the whole story. Hearing that Jack had had a good night oxygen-wise made me optimistic that we’d be able to bring him home, so I took clothes for him, but just in case, I also went prepared with books and toys, as well as my knitting, and arranged with a friend for her to take the other boys later in the day if Jack was kept in for longer.

I arrived to find Jack eating his fourth slice of toast - but he still perked up and said “Thanks Mum!” when he spotted the pancakes I’d brought him. That was about all I got out of him, however, as he was much too busy watching the Cartoon Network to be bothered about things like talking to parents. Shortly after I arrived, a nurse came over with two syringes of meds - steroids and antibiotics, so I asked her about them and then, when her only real reply was that the doctor had ordered them, I asked if they could wait until after rounds, so that we knew more about what was going on. She was fine with that, and we didn’t have long to wait for the consultant. He examined Jack and asked us all the same questions everybody else had asked in the last 24 hours. I questioned the oral steroids and was told they hardly ever gave IV steroids on the ward - so Jack could have had the IV line out last night, but anyway…I also asked about the antibiotics, and the consultant looked a bit at a loss, and asked the junior doctor on rounds about it. She said that she had felt they were unnecessary, but the other doctor who’d been on duty last night had ordered them. That was the same doctor who’d told me, an hour or so earlier, that it was almost certainly viral - so much for avoiding the overuse of antibiotics! The consultant agreed that they really didn’t seem necessary, so at least Jack avoided the second dose of those. He did get a second dose of oral steroids though, and we got to hear the words we’d been waiting for: “I think he can go home today.”

It took a while to pry Jack from the television screen in order to give him the final (we hope) dose of steroids, teach him how to use an inhaler and spacer, remove his IV line and get him dressed, but we were out of the hospital by about 10 o’clock. Jack didn’t stop talking the whole way home in the car, so we were reassured that he was on the mend! He’s to use the inhaler for the next couple of days and then play things by ear. He seems much, much better now though, and has spent the day full of energy as usual - I thought he might sleep this afternoon after missing so much sleep last night, but there was no chance.

It’s incredibly stressful having a child in hospital - not just because you’re worried about the child, but also because of all the extra arrangements that have to be made for who will be where when and what will happen with the other children. The two girls who were on Jack’s ward had both been in for weeks - I really don’t know how parents manage that or longer stays. Most of the staff were very pleasant - one of the reasons I usually head for the Children’s Hospital rather than the nearest Casualty is that you know you’ll find staff who’ve chosen to work with children rather than those who just tolerate them as a necessary part of the job. We really only encountered one nurse who was unwilling to do everything she could to help us, and one doctor who was less than communicative (the one who saw Jack on the ward last night). The consultant, when I told him I’d be questioning everything, said “That’s the right way to do it!” - which is an attitude I’ve noticed is usually found in doctors who are good at what they do and confident about their abilities - the ones who aren’t so great at their jobs are more defensive, in my experience. I did find it frustrating that most staff just did things without notice or explanation though - I know sometimes there isn’t a lot of time, but just a few extra seconds can make a big difference, and sometimes the explanation could even be given while they’re doing whatever it is - for example, when the nurse was putting anaesthetic cream on the backs of Jack’s hands while we were in Casualty, she didn’t tell us what it was or why it was being done - I knew what it was and figured out what it was for, but she wasn’t to know that, and it wouldn’t have taken three seconds to explain while she smeared it on and covered it - and knowing allowed me to prepare Jack for what was going to happen. Small things like that can make a big difference to patients and their parents. When Freddy was not much more than a year old, he fell onto some broken glass and split his forehead open - there was masses of blood, pouring down through his eyes and through all the layers of clothing on both of us - and when the bleeding had subsided in Casualty, the doctor said he’d be going for a skull x-ray. I spent the next two hours thinking they thought he might have a fractured skull, when in fact all they were doing was checking for fragments of glass in the wound. A second to add “…that will show up any glass that’s left in the wound” would have saved me those two hours of worry.

I don’t mean to complain - the hospital staff were very good and caring, and I’ve no complaints about the treatment apart from the unnecessary antibiotics. I’m just getting it all off my chest really. It’s been a very stressful weekend for all of us; I’m glad it’s over and hope we never have to repeat it or anything like it.