If somebody had have sat me down seven years ago
and said to me that
on this day,
after very little sleep,
I would be sitting on my bed with my husband
laughing hysterically (and possibly inappropriately)
because we had both just conceded that six weeks was actually quite a long time to be out of the hospital -
I don’t know that I would believe them
but having lived through today (and the previous night)
I can honestly tell you that I did just that
and in my world six weeks is a long stretch of time between hospital visits.
Six weeks is our limit though;
it’s the girl’s limit
and so we find ourselves in here again.
If you’re thinking kidneys – you’d be right
and if you’re thinking that I’m tired and shouldn’t be blogging at this obscene hour,
you’d probably be right about that too.
I’m finding it hard to switch off though
and I’ve been thinking about how we constantly change our view of ‘normal’.
In previous years when Ivy’s heart rate hit 160 beats per minute, I would feel uptight and frightened
because at the age of six the average heart rate is between 80 – 100 beats per minute
and 160 seemed extreme but now -
now 160 is nothing (160 is a walk in the park)
200 beats per minute is my new point of panic.
In previous years a good ‘break’ from hospital would have been generally accepted as months
where as now if we make it to the next paediatrician’s appointment
it feels like winning…
and so it goes.
I suppose the feelings of resignation that I feel
when I know that Ivy is sick to the point that I cannot help her anymore
and our only way out of the illness quagmire
is through the hospital doors,
is my new kind of normal too.
That numb feeling -
started about six months ago
and they were foreign then
I accept them as a way to protect myself from all of the other associated feelings;
Don’t get me wrong -
it’s easy to be philosophical now
when Ivy is here
and I know that she will be okay.
Not so easy at 3am when you feel pulled in every direction -
kids who need to get ready for their first full week of school
a husband’s pressure to be at work,
weighing up how you can manage to make it through the day
after sitting up all night nursing all of those worries,
along with an ice cream container because the small girl’s nausea leaves her panicked and retching every 30 minutes or so
but I guess that’s just part of our new normal too.