A crazy busy morning dropping one at primary school, taking another to secondary school. Helping get the teen to student support on crutches. A mad dash across town to get to our hospital appointment on time. Frantically looking for a disabled car parking stop as we are not allowed to park in a normal spot with the blue badge. Our usual spaces all full, finally we spot one and I go head to head with someone else I can see eyeing up the vacant space. Thankfully we won!
As we walk the familiar corridors Erin is proclaiming that’s where I go for Xrays. Yes sweet-heart but not today, come on, can you go a bit faster? Oh that is where I see Mr Housie, yes sweetheart but we are going upstairs today. Can you run?
Finally we are on the right bit. Our department today is ENT, just at the top of the stairs. Come on Erin, lets get in the lift. No mummy I do stairs. Really?? I know this won’t happen. But she tries, two steps up and she declares she can’t do the stairs. I need to carry her. I knew this would happen. Erin cannot do stairs without a rail or putting her hands on the stairs. Her legs just are simply still not strong enough.
Finally at the top of the stairs we get signed in and then. Waiting at the hospital, Erin waiting for her name to be called. She knows the routine. Promises of a trip to the hospital shop after the appointment are whispered. She asks for a magazine and milky way. In a louder voice she recalls that Chloe was here the other day. ‘Yes’ I agreed with her.
Shall I go to the playroom and get some toys she says wandering off down the corridor.
She shouldn’t know the way to the hospital playrooms but she does.
A child that knows the routines. Finally running only half an hour late Erin is called in. A quick chat and check up before the consultant mentions surgery. I was expecting this – I knew the outcome before I went in. Erin had yet another nasty infection two weeks ago I knew having grommets was the next step.
As she explained the procedure and I filled in the consent forms that I know so well I just felt sad. The consultant said this is non traumatic surgery, certainly nothing like she has already endured. Erin has taken on (and is hoping beating) far more.
I am the one who will have to explain all this to Erin. The surgery and recovery will not be traumatic but the gas mask is. Erin is likely to be scared of waking up in spica – that is what she is used to. She often asks me if she will have purple legs again. I try to reassure her that hopefully not. The risks of general anethestics don’t scare me anymore but seeing Erin fighting sleep, covering her little mouth with her hands because she doesn’t want to go to sleep does upset me. I just feel sad that she has more hospital trips on the horizon. Her first this year but her eighth general in her life and she is only just three.
It seems unfair.
Tomorrow I will get the date and then it will just be more waiting.
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