24 Hours in A&E

Yay, another 24 hours post! Sometimes, it's all so exciting, I have to capture it all...

Thursday, 10pm:  Get to bed. It's been an exhausting day of zero sleep and even less housework. Amelie is still coughing and choking, but Daddy gave her a warm bath and a good dose of her inhaler before bed, so she's pretty settled. I fall into bed, exhausted, hoping for at least a couple of hours' sleep.

Friday, 2.30am: Amelie wakes up coughing and crying. She's slept well since bedtime, so I give her a good breastfeed and try to give her some Ibuprofen. She's having none of it, pushing it away and screaming. She can't stop coughing, and each one gets worse and worse. She's obviously full of mucus that she can't get rid of, and is really starting to struggle. Both of us try sharply patting her back, but she's properly choking and starting to get darker in the face. Her head and limbs are floppy and we're terrified. Phone 999 and get an ambulance.

Friday, 2.45am: Still on the phone to 999, waiting for the ambulance to come. Amelie seems to have cleared her blockage and is now cheerfully slapping Daddy in the face and shouting "DA DA DA!!!"
Sheepishly tell the 999 lady that she's perked up a bit, but was definitely choking when I phoned. She kindly tells me that this happens all the time, and of course, I'm just glad she's stopped choking.
The ambulance arrives with two lovely paramedics, who take one look at my poorly baby and decide to take her right into hospital.

Friday, 3.20am: Arrive at hospital, are ushered into a triage room with two small chairs, an examination table and a desk. Amelie is given a quick check by a nurse, and all vital signs are normal. Phew. She's still very chesty and wheezy, but alert and happy to sit.

Friday, 4am: Seen by a junior doctor, who explains what Bronchiolitis is and says that Amelie should be okay to go home, but will need to stay put for a few hours to get checked over. Okay, so we're here for a few hours. Might as well settle in, have a coffee and get comfy.
Oh, wait. There's only two small chairs and no hot drinks allowed in A&E. Okay, shuffling uncomfortably in small chairs while sipping water it is, then.

Friday, 5am: Having been shown how to properly administer Amelie's inhaler (one puff into spacer, hold over her struggling, squirming, crying face for ten excruciating seconds, repeat ten times), and given her a feed, she is asleep. Time to escape to the loo.
The loo, being in a chlidren's ward, has a large mirror that is at waist height to me. Catch sight of my tummy/bum area and realise with horror how chubby I've become.
Remind myself to lay off the chocolate and exercise more.
Remind myself that I have three kids, never stop, chocolate is essential for energy and when do I get time to exercise?
Remind myself that lots of people have three or more kids and are skinny, that's not an excuse.
Remind myself that most of them are celebrities, have nannies and personal trainers and I have none of the above.
Remind myself that I'm healthy and loved, and that's all that matters.
Remind myself to look for a vending machine selling chocolate on the way back.

Friday, 6am: Doctor comes back, saying that Amelie's breathing rate has improved and they'll look at her again in an hour. Another hour to kill. Read an interesting poster that cites a 5 year study that was done into the incidence of increased admissions to hospital following sledging injuries. The conclusions are groundbreaking - they have discovered after extensive research that sledging is a fun activity which can be made safer if adults always supervise, kids wear hats and gloves, and most importantly, if sledging only takes place when there is snow on the ground.
Have amusing conversation with Steve about how reckless he was with a sledge (or any large piece of discarded plastic/metal he and his friends could find) in the early 80's, when Health and Safety was a distant pipe dream.

Friday, 7am: I've decided to lie uncomfortably on the examination table holding a sleeping Amelie, while Steve tries to sleep sat upright on a chair, using my jacket as a blanket and the sink next to the chair as a pillow.
The doctor comes back, and says that it's very likely that Amelie has Bronchiolitis, but that there's nothing they can do in hospital that can't be done at home, so they send us home. Thank the good lord for that!

Friday, 8am: Get home, just in time for the school run. Thankfuly, Steve has taken the day off work, so he takes the kids to school and I sort Amelie out with medicine and boobing.

Friday, 9am-3pm: Blur of taking turns to nap while the other one takes care of the baby.

Friday, 3.30pm: Kids are home, and Charlie has had two attacks of hyperventilating. Eek. phone emergency doctor, and am told to take him in.

Friday, 4.30pm: Charlie has been given a heavy dose of steriods on a 5 day course for "asthma-like" symptoms. Nobody ever seems to give a diagnosis anymore.

Friday, 6pm: Daisy has a cheerleading practice, but we've not had time to make any dinner beforehand. Guiltily chuck some grapes in a tupperware box and promise her a fish supper afterwards. Run to asda for a last minute panic dinner of pizzas.

Friday, 6.30pm: Wolf down said pizzas before picking Daisy up again.

Friday, 7pm: Pick up Daisy, think for a minute about how exhausting all of this is, but remember that really, we're lucky that the kids are well enough to be keeping us this busy. Anyway, no time for thinking, Charlie has scouts at 7.30pm!

Friday, 10pm: Having settled the girls while Steve did the scouts run, we finally get to sit down and watch a tiny bit of TV, before deciding that really, the best thing to do is head to bed.

Ahh, it'll all settle down someday....right?