Looks as though I may need to change the title of this blog to 'The Sicknesses We Endure'!

Saturday morning was bright and shiny, we were both, seemingly, feeling better. We watched Rage, we had breakfast, The Bean played with his cars, I drank coffee. We sat in the back yard, we talked on the phone (Not to each other, that would be weird), The Bean had a sandwich and we decided to go to the park. Across the road is a school with a playground, this is the park we go to when I can't be bothered walking far or changing out of my trackies for the Chelsea public.

After an hour or so, we'd been home once, for The Bean to go to the toilet (also a major advantage of living across the road from a blue slide) and we'd gone back to the park again. Then The Bean told me he wanted to go home. He wanted a drink. So we did. And he had one.

Then he put himself to bed.

In about 15 minutes he started to cry. Then he started to sob.

Then the following progression of events, from Saturday 1pm to Monday 8am was a frightening blur:

* I checked his temperature - 38.7
* Gave him panadol
* Called the nurse helpline
* Temperature was 39.2
* Lay down with him
* Gave him a drink
* Sob, Sob, shiver shiver
* Temperature 40.5
* Called the nurse helpline
* "Is it time to go to the hospital?"
* "It's probably time to go to the doctor, yes."
* Packed a few clothes for him
* 'Mama, sob, can I please have a bucket/cuddle/sob?"
* "Come on, into the toilet, are you going to be sick
* Sob. Sob. Cry.
* Vomit
* Vomit
* Temperature 41.1
* Called a friend I was supposed to visit that evening. "Think I need to take The Bean to the hospital. Don't worry though, I'll just meet you back at mine, you can cook dinner here. The Bean's temperature is 41.1. This is when they can start to have seizures. Boil their brain and stuff."
* "Babe, why are you calling me?"
* "I don't know"
* "Get in the car, go to the hospital."
* "I don't know what I'm doing."
* "Take him to the hospital."
* "OK."
* Drove the car, waited for the traffic lights. Called Ninna and Papa. Got to the hospital.
* Triage nurse was lovely, Temperature had come down a bit, 39.8
* Into a bed in emergency. Opposite a woman who'd had breast cancer, heroin and some kind of transplant. So it seemed.
* An ambo was changing over a patient to the nurse, "He's had five by pass surgeries, he's type two diabetic, heavy smoker, drinking today."
* Move to the paed section of emergency. Baby crying, can't eat. Two teenager boys, dislocated joints/head injuries/Saturday afternoon football.
* Another baby of two teachers. Can't poo. Hasn't pooed for two days. Except for the nappy full of blood that made her parents take her to the paed section of the emergency department.
* Neurofen for The Bean, Temperature 39
* Vomit
* Vomit
* Need to get him on a drip at some stage. Need to take some blood. Need to get that little thing into the back of his hand.
* Blood. Tears. Screams. Tears. Kicking. Not sure if all of the tears and screams were coming from The Bean.
* Called Ninna and Papa.
* The Bean has to be admitted. He can't keep anything down. Getting dehydrated. Not sure what's wrong. Have to grow blood cultures. Have to have an xray.
* Not sure what's wrong.
* Up to the paed ward. 10pm ish. Get the drip in the back of his hand. IV Fluid. IV penicillin.
* To the nurse - "I'm going to go home. I want to have a shower, I want to have something to eat. I need to get the smell of vomit out of my hair. I want to go home."
* Drive home. Do Stuff. Drive back.
* Sunday morning - penicillin's working. Fluid worked. New Bean. So much happier.
* Doctor. Nurses. Weird bossy food lady. Ninna and Papa. Uncle Abum and Aunty Lee. Bless 'em.
* Coffee. Books. Cars. Plastic toy garage.
* Problems with the drip.
* Tears. Screams. Kicking.
* Deep Breaths.
* Oral anit-biotics. One more sleep until we can go home. Probably.
* "That baby's crying, Mama."
* "Yeah babe, she's a bit sick."
* "She's very sad."
* The Bean will only eat fruit toast. Bananas. Vegemite sandwiches. Not enough water.
* Normal. Must be feeling better.
* Chucking tantrums.
* Must be feeling better.
* "Can we go home, Mama?"
* "Not yet baby, we have to maybe wait 'til the morning."
* "Pleeee-assse Mama. I want to go home."
* "I know, babe." Sob. "Me, too."
* 7am Mon. All seems good, he's kept everything down.
* 7:30 "You can go home."
* YAY!!!


Things The Bean has said:
Burp.
"Are you gonna be sick, babe?"
"No Mama."
"Are you sure?"
"Yep, it's not a throw up Mama, it's just a bert."