Home Sweet Home

Oh little home am I glad to be back!

After writing my last post, we ended up back in hospital within hours. Wriggles was refusing all hydration and vomiting medication and syringes of water back up. After a breakthrough with a spoon of runny ice cream, I was convinced we had crack it, but soon this came up with copious amounts of dried blood. As the afternoon wore she grew floppier and more lethargic and I began to panic. Luckily we still had open access after being discharged just hours earlier, and a phone call to a nurse confirmed they were keen to see her. Being a pessimistic sort, I decided to take along some jimjams and spare clothes as well as a washbag. Just In Case.

The Fear.

I don't really want to write another down hearted post again after yesterday's weigh in, but Wriggles has got a sniffle.

I know, I know. About 90% of babies and children and a large population of adults right now have a sniffle. If it is not one bug, it is the other bug doing the rounds. Basically, it's still technically winter and everyone has the lurgy or if they are lucky, is just getting over it.

It has been months, five long months in fact since the last bug. But hearing her snuffle and cough is enough to set my adrenaline cursing round my body and reaching for the holdall which I have always used as the Hospital Bag. On autopilot, I reach for the phones to check they are charged and that I still have the out-of-hours doctor and NHS Direct stored. I panic; have I got enough cash for a taxi just in case? Last spring to autumn I always had spare money in the house as bundling an ill baby into a taxi headed for the nearest A&E became a weekend hobby. I knew the postcode to the doctors surgery by heart and could recite all medical history and current medication in seconds.