An Eventful Night

Its 11:23. This plastic coated recliner armchair isn't the comfiest of places I've ever slept, but it certainly isn't the worst, but the constant to'ing and fro'ing of night staff, parents and beeping equipment doesn't add any additional comfort.

Don't expect to rest if you're staying in hospital! Especially if the reason you're in there is breathing heavier than a bear in mid hibernation.

This little bear of mine is a tough guy. He bounces on concrete and barely grimaces when blood pours from a gash or cut finger. So when he lay around on the sofa, put himself back in bed and refused a slice of birthday cake, we knew something wasn't right. The week long cold wasn't so common!

An appointment with the GP had him whisked off to hospital, with a slot booked for assessment in the children's ward. His oxygen levels were way too low and therefore was very lethargic. Hubby had the joy of sitting in the waiting room, moving from pillar to post, assessment nurse to doctor to X-ray - all of which took 5 hours and resulted in the appearance of a mystery rash.

Admitted for the night due to an infected lung and low oxygen, little bear was stuck with a needle, had a clamp clipped or a clip clamped to his finger and a small clear plastic mask attached to his face. Add a fairly decent rash of high level itchiness and the result was a very irritable, tearful little bear intent on riving his own skin off.

Three members of staff came and looked, asked when the rash had appeared, assuming that it was after the initial dose of penicillin. Three times I told them it started while sitting in the waiting room. I'm sure they thought I was just being awkward, obviously no one is allergic to waiting rooms. Fortunately a dose of anti histamine quickly reduced the manic riving to a light scratching and then nothing but pink blotches.

Temporarily distracted by a baby having an inhaler resembling a sawn off 2 litre lemonade bottle fixed to its face, little bear settled himself down to watch a couple of episodes of Outnumbered on my iPad, with a tangled mess of tubing, wiring and headphones wrapped creatively round his upper body.

Gradually sleep crept in and little bear drifted off, while I tried to fathom out how to recline the plastic coated armchair. I stole a blanket from the empty cot next to us, and got comfy. The baby crying in the next ward had calmed down and even the staff were quietly going about their business. Maybe I could get a few hours sleep tonight after all.

Stupid, stupid thing to say, as within minutes, two nurses came in to wake us all up by administering another lemonade bottle inhaler to a content sleeping baby. Why?? only a childless person would even consider doing that. let sleeping babies lie....isn't that the rule?

Little Bear half awoke, but sufficiently enough to curse, rip off the oxygen mask, and grumble about his blanket. For more than 30 minutes I sat perched on his bed holding it a millimetre from his face so his monitor didn't suddenly go off on one.

Back in plastic land, I started to write this post. Another room mate arrived. A very small boy with a very loud voice and a baby sister with an ear piercing screech. The father was quickly sent packing by mother who was under the impression that some of us were actually still sleeping, despite the noise they had just made.

It was at this point that I had the very same thought that I had when in hospital awaiting the birth of my eldest. I was being 'prepared' to go into labour when a woman, wearing jeans was shown to the bed opposite. No newly laboured woman would wear jeans, so I was intrigued as to why she was there and why she was getting tea and toast. At this point in time I remain intrigued about small boy.

2.59am All is fairly quiet, apart from the tussles Little Bear has with his mask, his finger peg thing and the race to get things back in place before the yellow lights turn red and noisy. He isn't happy at all and I have spent a good part of the night so far, holding an oxygen mask close to his face. It's cold, they have a window open, rubbish blankets and the plastic chair makes my bum sweat.

3.37am. I now know why lady and small boy are here! Projectile vomiting and a temperature of 106 it seems. Poor lad is most concerned about there being sick on his sheet. Mother says it doesn't matter, but he is very apologetic (he looks about 3!) to the nurse who comes to change it.

A trip to the Parents Room, where tea and coffee is available, or so it says on the poster. There is tea, and you have to drink it there, not back on the ward. I run the risk of Little Bear flinging off his entrapments and waking the whole ward while I'm away, so drink it as quickly as possible. I tweet about Starbucks Latte, toasted tea cakes and a duvet... Delirious!

Somewhere between 4.00 and 5.30 I managed to sleep proper sleep, not the nano second power naps I'd been trying to get all night. I was woken by a nurse, who once again woke sleeping baby to do some asthmatic lemonade bottle stuff. Small boy became rather upset and said he'd had a wee all over the bed. Mother said he hadn't, he had a nappy on just in case. I think there may be some OCD issues in that family.

It's now 7.00, the hi tech TV Internet thingies have burst into life and announced the 'services' available, probably at great expense. Seagulls have squawked a dawn chorus and people are starting to do things in a noisy fashion, and....Little Bear's cough is sounding very phlegmy, good news!

I could kill someone for a decent coffee....

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