Friday, 9 September 2011
What a week!
Bad week at Chez Drake! Well, more accurately bad few weeks I suppose (see previous post). Elin went back to school this week, as did we. After the end of the Summer holidays I was hoping for a quiet, drama free week but Elin had other ideas! Yes, the fits it seems are back. Properly back- think a scrawled message on maybe a shower room wall in blood reading 'They're Back!!!!' That's how back they are. This is pretty heartbreaking, given the good run she had until this Summer. Is it too much to ask that she starts school properly (five mornings a week now! Big girl!) without any complications? She so does NOT deserve this. Wednesday brought the first ever fit at school and today brought her second ever fit at school and her first ever ride in an ambulance. Her fit at school this morning did not subside as it is supposed to after the rescue medication (naughty fit!) and so as per protocol school called an ambulance and I was called at work to meet the ambulance at hospital. Urghhhhhh. To be fair I remained a very reasonable level of calm and insisted on driving to hospital by myself. I knew she would be ok, I don't know how just deep down I knew she would. Didn't stop me feeling slightly panic striken when I got there and she hadn't arrived and I suddenly had 'Holby City' scenario's running through my head involving her being 'worked on' at the 'scene', the ambulance being involved in a car accident/ fire or balancing procariously off the edge of a cliff whilst the heroic paramedic decided whether to save Elin or his long standing colleague (Yeah, yeah I know there are no cliffs in Wrexham, I never said my imagination was logical) . Anyway the staff on the Children's Ward, most of whom I know pretty well given the level of frequency we have been there in the past three years, were, as ever brilliant as were the staff from Elin's school both over the phone and when they arrived with her (escorted by a lovely carer and the Headmistress only the best for Elin). So, we have established that I was pretty calm, that I instinctively knew she was ok and that I have visited the ward many a time and everyone was very reassuring. But nothing will ever prepare you for your helpless three year old being wheeled towards you strapped to a trolley in her school uniform, minus one hair bobble and a pair of tights, peering inquisitively over the top of an oxygen mask and I don't ever want to get to the stage where I am prepared for that sight. Luckily for me that was as bad as it got and we were back home (again!) in a couple of hours. But still not something I am going to forget, or want repeated, in a hurry. And there was a piece in the paper today about Victoria Beckham being stressed to 'breaking point'. Ha, **** you VB. Give me a bell sometime, I'll show you stress!
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