It’s very hard to organise a week in hospital.

The whole diagnostics of having six other kids to think about and a husband who is unable to have time off is headache worthy.

I know it is going to be a long, l o n g week.

When Maddy stresses, she cleans.

She goes into some crazy OCD type frenzy.

That’s how I know that she is really feeling it. What’s more (and what makes it worse) is that she tries to  rally everyone else to help and when they don’t because I am not there to  bark orders allocate chores, everything falls apart for her.

So yesterday, when she started vacuuming the floor at 7am, I knew it was going to be a very, very long week.

Before I left, I made sure as much was in order as could be, knowing the logistics of six children and one husband can be overwhelming for all  involved.

We took the hour long drive to the hospital where we found, the ward not ready for her, the doctors, not sure why she was even there.

They rallied well but the unease of spending a week in the hospital was growing as the logistics of Ivy’s stay seemed unclear.

When the paediatrician came and declared her the best he’d seen her in a while and that it was tragic to have her in here, I just wanted to pick her up and run.

My fear felt stupid and unjustified.

Logistically, last night was a “nightmare” for the doctors, who declared themselves run off their feet and so when they turned up to her room at 11pm (23:00 hrs in nursing time) and boldly suggested I wake her up for cannulation, I was upset.

I said no.

So day 1 of hospital was a bust, with no IV antibiotics on board.

I was angry but the paediatric registrar was so nice. When she told me she could associate with how we were feeling because her daughter was going in for neurosurgery next week, I felt terrible for even thinking bad things.

For being here, taking up space and time and resources.

For being frightened.

Yes, my friends, it’s going to be a very, very long week.