She’s home safe and while not exactly sound she’s heading that way!
I feel this overwhelming sense of responsibility now. Her care is in my horribly inexperienced medical hands. What if something goes wrong?
We don’t have a wheel chair and it’s not always possible to park near the house so when we got to the house Joe suggested getting my dad’s office chair. Kind of strange, there in the rain at ten o’clock at night, to be wheeling your daughter in an office chair along the pavement but hey, it worked.
She’s still struggling with the crutches. The sort of awkward bit where you stand at the bottom of the stairs and have no idea which bit goes first. Left leg/right leg/left crutch/right crutch? So you stand there wobbling and not achieving much else.
Tucking her in bed was a good feeling and I am sure I’m being very mother hen-ish. She has her mobile phone next to her to call me if there is anything she needs even though I am just a flight of stairs away.
My phone rang at 1.30am. Her tummy was sore.Heart thumping I raced downstairs and she was in tears, clutching her tummy and writhing. I didn’t know what to do. What could it be? It was getting worse by the second until she was actually screaming. Her lips were white, her face grey/yellow. Then she needed the bucket and vomited. And vomited. My heart thumped and I was sweating with fright but being sick had helped a little and she eased back down.
I phoned the ward in a panic but they were scarily relaxed. Just watch her, they said. I was watching her and it was sending me to an early grave. I called Joe, woke him from that deep sleep that leaves you muddled and confused. He had to hit the ground running poor guy.
We looked at all the paperwork that came with her meds while she screamed and retched and found that DiHydrocodeine could cause ‘irritation’ to stomach lining. No kidding.
She vomited it all out and by three collapsed back into sleep.