Another trip to the hospital

This week was highlighted in red bold on my calender, it is the week that Elizabeth was to start a more intensive therapy program with her Speech and Occupational therapist and the first official appointment with the RDI (relationship development intervention) Consultant to begin a highly anticipated new therapy program. It was to be a busy but exciting week. It was not to be however. Over the last week Elizabeth had been on strong antibiotics for a re-occurring ear infection. She seemed to be recovering well, however, on the fifth day of the course she began refusing all food and by early that afternoon she also began vomiting up her milk. All I could get into her was little sips of water. The next morning she arose at 5am but was still very lethargic and just laid on the sofa as I made her a warm drink of milk. She sculled the milk down having not eaten the previous day, but immediately threw it up again. Very concerned by this stage I packed a bag, called Mum, and arrived at the hospital emergency ward by 6am. It was completely empty! A triage nurse saw us and took us straight into a room where a lovely Indian Doctor saw us within twenty minutes. We were told to immediately discontinue the antibiotics as they were making her ill and giving her gastro symptoms. Her fluid intact was monitored and blood tests were taken. One time Elizabeth jerked her arm pulling the needle out, spraying blood onto the sheets and onto me. It is a very strange thing indeed to have your child's blood all over your hands. Elizabeth took all this in quite patiently. She was actually a star patient. The only time she whimpered was when the urine bag was taken off her (I've mentioned these horrid things before). But this was also testament to how sick she was.

At 1030 that morning we were meant to show up to the appointment with the Speech and Occupational Therapist to begin the new therapy program. If you cancel within 24 hours you are I was liable for the whole $300. Expressing my concerns, the nurse offered to call the agency to explain Elizabeth's situation and the Doctor wrote out a certificate to cover all bases. By 11am we were back home with a handful of Hydralyte ice blocks, which we were to give her every half hour. Once home she threw up a few more occasions and just laid on the lounge, falling asleep everything now and then. That night she fell asleep with a couple of mouthfuls of rice custard in her belly. At 1am she woke and jumped off the bed, the most energy she had exhibited in three days. I took her downstairs where she downed a cup of milk without throwing it back up. I managed to get her back to sleep by 2am but she was up and rearing to go by 5am. Bleary eyed I raced around the house cleaning up for the arrival of the RDI consultant at 930am. This appointment, at least, went quite well, although I did forget to put the biscuits out. Shortly after the consultant left, Elizabeth had another bout of gastro where her grandparents and I took turns carrying her with her knees tucked into her chest for about three or fours hours.

That was only three hours ago. Elizabeth is now sitting quietly, her belly full of lamb casserole contentedly watching her favourite movie Babe, Euky Bear rubbed on her chest to help ease a stuffed nose from a cold she seemed to have developed straight after her bout of gastro. Despite the runny nose she now appears happy and almost back to her old self. I just hope things next week go a tad more smoothly.

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I was putting yet another TV Dinner in the microwave when I heard the little boy next door talking animatedly to his Mother. He was born the same week as my daughter who was yet to utter a single word. Trying out a new video camera this afternoon I filmed her sitting quietly reading her books. One of her books had picture keys that made sounds when pressed. She kept pressing the same key over and over, absolutely absorbed in what she was doing. I called her name to get her to look up at the camera. After the sixth time she looked up briefly before going back to the book. On the toilet doors at work there are posters on depression. One that gets to me is the elderly lady who doesn't want to be a burden on her family. On another, is how depression is often misdiagnosed as stress. Tonight I discovered that you can finish a bag of twenty Fredos in one episode of Neighbours and Two and Half Men.