Showing posts with label irritating questions. Show all posts
Showing posts with label irritating questions. Show all posts

Monday, April 23

Stupid

Generally I have a lot of love for doctors, indeed most medical staff. I have felt very well supported by both specialist teams and also from my GP surgery. My previous GP surgery was about as much use as a chocolate teapot and the Out of Hours doctors range from rather nervous to a bit hopeless in my experience, but generally my surgery have demonstrated much that is brilliant about the NHS. The GPs have been very positive in supporting my mental health, and in the main have been very sensible about Wriggles. There however nearly always is a duff one. Today we got him.

Wriggles has a cough again. A cough that is full of mucus and dried blood and that is causing her to be a blimming nightmare to get any fluids or medication in. We have been up through the nights and been reliant on our trusty Ventolin, which while usually does bugger all, now she is a bit older, is quite good for semi-emergency use at home, before having to bother the doctors. That and vomiting are the only things keeping us home, as the coughing fits have a nasty habit of inducing dusky colour changes and labouring her breathing as well as clearly causing acute and prolonged distress. So our little inhaler friend has been living within arms reach and being used fairly frequently. As this has been ongoing for at least 48 hours and the use is moderately frequent, I want a second, well first opinion from a trained doctor rather than the cobbled wisdom of previous admissions and common sense from my head. Plus, it has been drummed into me to seek regular medical advice should we be in the position of using it regularly especially if combined with other factors like a temperature (check!) and potential for dehydration (check!).

The GP now looked at me as if I was mad.

Wriggles was doing her infuriating trick of looking the picture of health if as white as a sheet, whilst twenty minutes earlier she was teeming with mucus and screaming in pain. At the time of making the appointment hours earlier she was refusing all drinks and had not urinated for some long hours. Now, she just wanted to creatively rearrange the paperwork on his desk.

He admitted she was well on the way to being dehydrated as she was a borderline case now but was very chipper about the whole thing, as he did a test to determine how hydrated she was or wasn't. He was boggled that she is not on solids: "And does she, you know, actually grow?"

And then, after describing the coughing and chesty episodes that had plagued the last days he seemed perplexed about administering Ventolin to open up her airways, which are narrow and easily clogged. I had explained that not giving her anything leads to breathing difficulties. He didn't seem to understand still.

GP: And what if you didn't give her ventolin?
Me: [trying to work out if he is asking a strick question] I haven't actually tried that at home yet. But from experience, generally an emergency admission to resus following respiratory distress needing oxygen, nebulisers and sometimes IV fluids and continual monitering as her heartrate becomes erratic. When it has been held off in a controlled environment like hospital, her breathing becomes worse and worse and she becomes tired, disorientated and takes even less fluids if possible and will still need either a bronchodilator inhaler, nebuliser or oxygen in the short term after delaying it. There is a reason why we have been prescribed it and told to use it when a virus or respiratory infection is present!

I know they have to be careful that untrained parents are not self medicating. I know they have to ask routine questions.

He nods and leans forward in a conspiratorial manner. "Is she your first child?" he asks in an almost pitying voice.

I could have lobbed the Duplo brick Wriggles had at his head.

I am acting on advice given to me by the hospital who look after her care in the main and have witnessed her in various states of health over the year! I do not sit in surgeries for fun or as a hobby! If i thought I could be managing this ticketty-boo, we would be sat in front of CBeebies at home! Believe me, I would swop you for a mug of coffee and a chocolate finger right now if I could.

Thankfully, she has perked up a little and the coughing is subsiding this evening. She has even had a wee (I am sorry Wriggles) and a tiny drink. I however, am still in a huff!



Thursday, February 16

Grump

Today is a fed up day. One of those where there is no apparent rhyme or reason why but you just feel a bit pants. And that is me now.

Partly I feel a bit deflated after my family left after a weekend visit, and a little bit horrified at myself that within hours the place looked a tip again and I was lacking any energy or motivation to do pretty much anything. I had a nap on the rug next to Wriggles who battered my ear with a toy tambourine. She is very much trying to be on the move and has developed a system of pushing herself backwards on all fours and then sitting up, swivelling on her bottom and reaching for things before going backwards and getting stuck under the sofa/bookcase/dining chair again. It is lovely but a little bit of me misses having a baby happy to have cuddles and play all day together. I think as much of this is I simply do not know what to do with myself when she is blatantly happy amusing herself.

Partly I am a bit miffed that an attempt to try and come off/cut down on anti-depressants has ended with a huge fail and a big blunt realisation that if I want to be a good mummy, an interested daughter and friend, an attentive worker and a human being then they are my one option for the time being. I am lucky in that they suit me with no side effects and importantly, work, but part of me resents that without them I just can't function day after day. I become a big heap of bluuuuurggghggmf that can't sleep, eat or muster up any interest in anything whatsoever. Some days, that includes my daughter, and that breaks my heart.

Partly I am beginning (for the millionth time) to get naffed off with questions about dear Wriggles' development and effects of prematurity. It's a constant barrage of 
"Is she crawling/walking/talking/eating yet?" to which to answer is NO. Well apart from crawling; that is very nearly because she is very very clever. When I have to explain we have commitments to go to physio and still have regular consultant input as well as other services, people look at me as if I am mad. I am not an over anxious mother, I want to scream at them. I fully believe she will "get there in her own time" but the fact remains, there are some lumps and bumps to be smoothed out and the medical services believe they should be involved. Do you think I LIKE spending time in outpatients? Do you think I find it FUN? Do you think we go to things JUST BECAUSE? And how exactly do you know it will be alright in the end? Do you have a crystal ball? If so, please give it to me to give me some respite from a little bit of worry. It may all look easy peasy but nothing is straight forward. Our beloved childminder is retiring in the summer and I am looking at nurseries which has turned into a bit of an exciting game as Wriggles' comes under some "additional needs" due to not eating solids, having physiotherapy for gross motor skills and we are awaiting a referral for speech and language input also. She is being fitted for gaiters to help her legs and hips and will be assessed to see if her left leg may need a splint as it is a bit all over the place. Sometimes I feel like life is just waiting as I know the consultants have not ruled anything in or out regarding movement but I do know they are keen to book her for an MRI scan around her second birthday. And what a treat that will be. Now some time has elapsed people forget and say things that niggle me; preconceptions about prematurity, disability, mothering skills. Stereotypes about single parents on low incomes and their abilities to bring children up; "oh but we don't mean you". 

Partly, I am just grumpy today.