A Trip to Hospital

I sit here on my bed, feeling a little numb, feeling sad, feeling grateful and strangely enough, with a strong sense of peace too.

At 7am, Billy-Joe woke me up to say he was having problems breathing. He had a heat pack and I new that his muscular problem from a week ago had come back. I laid back down, cursing the fact I'd allowed him to play football on Friday. I quickly reassessed the situation, flew out of bed, and, within five minutes had dressed and rung the ambulance. A part of me felt ridiculous for ringing, but for the most part, I knew it was my only option. I couldn't have moved him, he couldn't walk, he was chalky white, with a green tinge, and his lips were white, he was not well. I didn't think he was cyanosed, but felt it was not within my experience to be 100% sure.

The paramedics were quick. I'd woken Mickey who went and got Peter and then the ambos arrived. They took him to hospital, put him on oxygen and then a nebulizer even though I was sure it wasn't asthma, but it was a safeguard. I'd never ever seen him in so much pain. He was so good. Never flinched even when he was cannulated.

After a quick assessment, even a mobile chest x-ray, we knew he didn't have a collapsed lung, or pneumonia, which were my first thoughts.

After two morphine shots, his pain levels were tolerable, and then low enough for him to be comfortable. We remained in hospital for five hours, he was under constant observation and hooked up the whole time. He vomited and his temperature went up a bit too.

I'm not sure what this all means. To me, yes, there could be a pulled muscle, but then it's been good all week, and didn't hurt during or after his football game. He's bruised on all his limbs from the game, too bruised for my way of thinking, and for the pain to be so great that he can't take full breathes seems excessive to me. His appointment with the paediatrician is on Wednesday, finally.

He coped well, probably because I was calm and that helped him. Nothing soothes a child more than a Mum who's calm in a situation which much have been very scary for him.

Me, I coped alright too, even on the inside. It's now I don't feel so good. But I've always been like that, good in a crisis, not so good later on. I didn't pray at all while this was going on. I felt peace though, and still do. I knew Billy-Joe was in the good hands of the hospital staff and in the Good Lord's hands too. My role was to be there to comfort and hold..........

I didn't cry until I read something from Barbi's email, and after I'd spoken to my Mum.

He's sleeping and I'm enjoying the quiet and solitude in my room.

Not long after we arrived.

Much more comfortable.