On Friday, after a three needle night,

the girl became sick.

She writhed and shifted under the sheets in pain;

her temperature high, even with Panadol

and Neurofen

and codeine.

We phoned the hospital looking for advice

but the registrar we spoke to told us we should stay at home.

The medications kicked in eventually

and so we stayed put

but by morning the cannula in her arm had tissued

and so as it turned out we had to go in anyway.

They took some bloods and sent us home again to deal with Ivy’s pain alone.

They said she looked okay and it was probably nothing.

I think anyone would look okay on the amount of pain relief that was coursing through Ivy’s body

and I said as much

but it fell on deaf ears.

It wasn’t too bad, I guess,

so long as I kept up a constant stream of codeine

and Ivy was feeling better in herself.

At least, that’s what she told me.

It turned out that she had quite an active infection going on.

Still, nothing was changed on the Sunday when we had to return to the hospital again

because her brand new cannula tissued less than twenty four hours later

and that

was just plain awful.

The doctor attempted to place the needle in the girl’s veins three times

without success

and with so much trauma to Ivy

that I thought the room we were in may combust

with all of its negative energy.

Instead the doctor ran away

after she told us it would take a long time to find somebody willing to attempt cannulating Ivy.

We’ve been in this position before;

burning through access points

and doctors.

They wanted her to stay then,

but I argued and said that they only wanted her in for convenience.

It was not to change medications

or give her fluids

or good pain relief.

It was because staying would mean Ivy would be available early on Monday for review

and why would I stay when I could give her everything at home

when she needed it

instead of having to wait for a nurse to be available.

So they called the new doctor and she agreed -

nothing would change

and we could go home.

On Monday, after  three needle night, the girl became sick again.

or was still sick

but it kicked up to a whole new level.

The  pain was there, yes

but her temperature soared

and I honestly thought, as I held her in my arms at midnight,

while she shook and cried and writhed

that I was going to pick her up and drive to the hospital,

eating humble pie all the way

but with pain relief and antipyretics

and an extra dose of prednisone

and extra fluids

everything calmed down.

By morning the temperature was gone again and we had to go back to the hospital for review.

I felt as though I’d been left to cope on my own with everything

and I was just lucky to have the resources to be able to pull it off.

I was tired and emotional anyhow.

When we arrived in outpatients Ivy suddenly  started to shake

and shiver

and began to look really unwell.

I’d last dosed her with panadol almost six hours ago

and her temperature was escalating at an alarming rate.

Her pain suddenly out of control again.

I felt lucky that I had Maddy with me

and a good friend, who was also in the hospital with her daughter

because together we made a tight team;

givers of pain relief

and organisers of space, so the small girl could be all kinds of sick in private

but the doctors hadn’t seen Ivy’s febrile episodes before

and when suddenly the room was full of them

and they saw what I often do

they were shocked

and told me that she needed to be back in the hospital

where they could care for her ‘properly’ and give her everything she needed.

Here is where I may have lost the plot entirely,

jumping on their insinuation that I had somehow harmed my daughter by not seeking hospital care

and told them they were awful

and that I had dealt with the same thing all weekend

without their help at all -

even though I’d asked for it four days before.

It might have been where I told them they were asking the impossible -

that this week was full on

and that I was basically on my own to care for seven kids,

now spread within a 100 km radius between the hospital and home.

It might also be at that point that I looked at my unwell baby, curled up in my arms

and came to my senses

because at the end of the day

I would never forgive myself if something bad did happen to Ivy on my watch.

I can barely forgive myself now.

I may have cried alot

and felt bullied

and trapped.

I might have sobbed while they poked her and prodded her

and did more tests

and continued to leak stupid uncontrollable tears

every time a health professional came near us

but in the end,

my brain finally settled on the fact that we were being readmitted

indefinitely.