It’s day 31 and it’s already been put off once because Friday is not a good day for anyone, apparently.

Not alot gets done on a Friday.

Young doctors and nurses minds are filled with thoughts of the weekend,

apparently.

Monday was better for us anyway.

The thing is, the hospital, who acknowledged our admission two weeks ago, with a date and paperwork to sign, now has no recollection that we were to come in, no allocated time for Ivy.

Not in admissions and not on the ward. 

In the letter we received it stated that we would be contacted the day before with a time. Of course, that call never came so last night we started to worry.

David contacted the hospital and that is how we discovered that Ivy does not exist.

At least not on paper.

This morning I have woken early, in a dead set panic because  in the last 24 hours, Ivy has quite obviously been going down hill and she needs the Intragam.

The nurse on the ward, who told us that there was no paperwork for Ivy told us to come in early, at 8am, to sort things out. 

The paper work we have says to go to admissions, which doesn’t open for a full hour after we were told to be at the ward.

The last time we went to the ward without going to admissions first the nurses wouldn’t touch us. Would not even do a blood pressure for liability purposes.

When we spoke to the paediatrician last Wednesday, he said he had asked for her admission to be in school hours, so I could get the big kids off in the morning and be home for them in the afternoon.

An 8am start means leaving home at 7am and the school bus leaves at 8:30am

and

it’s the first day of term post school holidays.

David’s mum will come up to look after Noah but will have to leave her house at 5am to be here by 7am.

My head is spinning.

Having to go through the process of cannulation and the infusion is stressful enough without the mess of administration misshaps. Trying to explain to Ivy why she is being stuck again and then have to hold her little  body still while they set her up makes a  piece of me die each time, not to mention the worry of side effects and the like that rack her body afterwards.

I know I should just shut up and be grateful but dear Lord, you’d think this could just go smoothly, after everything.

I’m not sure what to do.

Do I go in and hope that it won’t take too long to sort it all out, do I wait for admissions to open and then approach them or do I wait and contact the paediatrician and see what he wants us to do?

Or do I just call the whole thing off  for today until we have things a little more concrete because at the moment, I think we could all use some stability.

David said the paed would never admit to forgetting to organise the IVIG.

He said he would play the blame game.

He said he would say he wasn’t able to contact the immunologist or the ward or the nurses or someone who needed to be contacted to get the infusion sorted.

You know, instead of being honest and saying he forgot.

David was right.

What David didn’t count on was that he would hide behind his pitbulls receptionists and have one of them call with the news that there would be no IVIG this week.

I was so cross.

Truth be told, I could still scream.

After the phone call I went outside and I pruned the potato vine.

When I say pruned, I mean that I hacked the living bejaysus out of it and imagined that  it was the doctor’s head.

Then

I got my little saw and chopped off a gazillion dead branches and pruned back the climbing rose to within an inch of it’s prickly life, imagining stuffing one of the sharper sticks up into the ENT doctor’s nose and scraping any adenoid tissue I could find and then poking at his tonsils for a while.

and I felt a little better

and I decided that I would keep very very calm.

However, tonight I am still fuming, so I thought I might try to look at the good things…

Ivy is still in pretty good spirits and aside from having goopy ears and a slight temp, is quite well and happy.

Noah sat on my lap this afternoon and said “Love me, I am your guinea pig” and then proceeded to make guinea pig noises.

“weeep weeeeeeep weeeeeeeeeeeeeeep”!

My fence can be seen again and I think the bottle brush that the potato vine has slowly been killing may live to see another Spring.

Oh and while I did all of that pruning, I plotted a double murder and now I have space in the garden to hide the evidence.

See?

Every cloud has a silver lining.

PS, sorry for the two posts in one day

PPS, I’m not really sorry just cross and a little crazy.

Ivy is sick again.

blah blah blah.

Same old same old.

We called the doctor two days ago and, what a surprise, he never called back.

Blah blah blah.

Boogety “I’m too important” doctor’s receptionists who don’t listen and who won’t do anything you ask of them just because you are low life clientelle who want too much of the doctors time in their humble opinions.

Doctors who don’t give a rats.

Blah blah blah

Immunologists who say to call them on a specific day only to be told (by pitbull receptionists) they are not available to talk to clientelle and if you were wanting a word with the doctor that holds your daughter’s future in her hands, that you will need to make another appointment.

In three months time.

Blah blah bl**dy blah!

Snot and vomit and ear goop, oh my!

Tears, fever, worry and mess.

Hospital; will I won’t I?

Should I?

Blah blah blah.

Evening phone calls from doctors who call too late to be effective and don’t apologise for not ringing a script through on time.

Immunologists who just don’t bother ringing back, at all, despite messages left and clientelle doing what was asked of them.

I need a holiday.

Sure, like that’s going to happen.

Blah blah blah!

Usually, I say ‘no’.

I can’t see the park from the field and besides that, I like everyone to stay together, to cheer the boy on, you know.

Today, I said ‘yes’.

Big mistake.

Enormous.

The game started and David asked if I wanted him to go and get the kids.

‘No’, I said, ‘I trust the girls’.

So, the game came and went and still no sign of any of the kids. We sent AJ up to the park to tell the girls to stay put and that we would drive around to meet them.

When we got there Ivy and Noah were on the play equipment, Lily was there but Imogen and Madeline were off sitting on a park bench, chatting with their ‘boyfriends’.

I know I did not handle things well.

I know I saw red;

because I trusted them and they broke that trust, I trusted them with my babies, for goodness sake,

because, they used the babies as a guise to meet up with the boys,

because they were sneaky and texted those males to come meet them without my knowledge,

because  I trusted them, ok?

I felt stupid and niave. I felt used up and so I got angry and I ranted and raved like a screaming lunatic and David didn’t back me up, instead he reprimanded me in front of the children for being childish.

Now they are grounded  for, like, forever and there will be no birthday sleepover and they have lost their phone priviledges too until they are twenty eight.

I’ve asked them for an apology and here I sit typing, six hours later, and I am still waiting.

There must have been a time when my parents thanked their lucky stars for having a fat and ugly child because they would have felt safe in the knowledge that there would be none of this boyfriend bulltwang.

I knew I would not cope well with this stage.

I just did.

It’s like a sixth sense.

I’m not joking.

Okay, maybe just a little…

Adolescents scare the living bejaysus out of me.

She said it because so much has gone wrong in the last few days with Ivy’s health and the medical profession sucks bananas out here in the boonies.

I could write a book about all the frustrations and ugh - type moments. I could just go mad and blurt out all kinds of obscenities on this, my family oriented blog…

Instead I am going to think about calm blue oceans and share with you a photo I took yesterday, that I was going to hold onto for the next Weekly Winners but can’t because I love it too much and I have to share.

After that, I am packing up my machete and I am going on a killing spree. **

Australia’s first case of Doctorcide - mother gone mad.

So, for your viewing pleasure and to give the paed a few more minutes head start (I hope he can run) I give you this:

** I am not really going on a spree, my friends. I am just blowing off steam…or am I??? (Insert crazy laughter of choice here)