The paed’s secretary called this morning, asking me if I would push Ivy’s appointment back to next Tuesday.
Was Ivy that sick that she needed to see him today? He had a twins’ birth he needed to be at and alot was going on, did she really need his time and attention or could it wait?
I said she was sick.
If she weren’t, did she really think that I would take an hour long drive in stormy weather?
What for?
Just to rattle his cage a bit? Make him work harder?
Ivy is sick.
No, she is not at the point of needing an emergency admission but she does need someone, other than me, who has not slept well in over a week, to cast an eye on her and to treat her.
She does get up in the mornings, quite bright and able to tinker the hours away but after her nap it is a downhill slide into the nights which are full of tears and pain.
While Noah has been inflicted with croup and now asthma as well, his recovery has been short and sweet and, functions normally, despite a two day setback.
Ivy’s temperature is up and down, she has a wet cough and her ears are producing some funky smelling stuff that, no sooner do I put the ear drops in, reproduces at an alarming rate and gloops out like slow moving lava. Her antibiotics are pushed up to the absolute maximum and this is making her vomit, or maybe it is just an explosion of gooey pink fluid, when she coughs too hard.
She claims her legs ache, her throat is sore, she is eating little and drinking little and well, you get the picture.
Having said all of that, she is predominantly okay.
The thing is, she was okay just before she moved into sepsis the last two times and that is what scares me, I think.
Ok is not good. I’d settle for good.
Ok is not great, great would be the best.
Ok is not acceptable for me.
Is that bad?
I don’t want to stress anybody out. I don’t want to make the paed’s day a living nightmare.
I do want Ivy to feel well.
Last night, I was lying with her as she grizzled about her pain, looking at her, holding her little hand in mine, I wondered if this constant illness is going to change her.
When Immy was going through all of this, it was very different.
For a start, I would never have waited on a 39 something degree temp with febrile convulsions. I wouldn’t have to consider family dynamics and when Lily came along (Maddy often came to hospital as a boarder) I had the help of my mother in law. David, a junior at the time, would not have to weigh up his job security over his family and neither would I.
Our paed, who had a good understanding of immune deficiency, supported Imogen’s need for quick access to IV antibiotics. We were usually in and out in a few days, with barely a ruffle to have to smooth over. Yes, there were some scary times but once we got into the swing of things, the girls’ paed was very good at slowing the emergent admissions by heading them off at the pass.
Immy would be discharged and that girl was so easy going, she seemed to transition back into the outside world with no problems. There would be no lag, no five minute breather. We just kept going.
She never asked about or recounted her hospital stays, other than the reflection that she loved the deep hospital bath. Of course, in later years she has asked questions but once answered she moves forward and doesn’t look over her shoulder.
Ivy is a different story.
Since the last bout of hospital admissions she has had an increasing fear of all things medical, which is understandable but beyond that, is the constant need for reassurance; that her old canula site is better, that her ears are okay, that she is ‘very brave’.
She is second guessing herself and her ability to heal.
After we come home or after a long bout of being sick, she takes an equally long time to be emotionally well, with the world. If I were to take her out the day after a discharge, she would not cope, hasn’t coped.
So, I sit in the dark, bowed over her like some old knotted willow tree and I worry and wonder how this is changing who she was originally supposed to be.
Will she go through life always scared and worried. whereas before she may not have?
Will she second guess her abilities?
Will she become the weaker person because of all these years of recurrent illness and what can I do to help her?
I cuddle her and tell her she is the bravest soul I know. I kiss her and tell her she is better. I encourage her to be active when she is well. I distance myself so that she can just be one of the kids.
Am I doing the right things by her though?
Nobody wants to screw up their kids.
I want her to be everything she can be. I want her wildest dreams to come true. I want her to be happy.
That’s all.
If she can be happy then I will have done my job well.
*edited to add, In the end, Ivy’s appointment was only pushed back an hour*
