Two Nights in a Children's Hospital

Last week Joseph was admitted to Pendlebury Children’s Hospital to have his tonsils and adenoids removed and gromits fitted. It was clear that he needed to have this done as the poor little chap snored like a noisy adult. The ear, nose and throat consultant also demonstrated that no air at all was being taken in or blown out of his nose. At 4.00 we duly arrived at the hospital and at 6.00 Joseph was carried by is dad down to the Theatre wearing a tiny flowery robe. I was left in tears on the ward. For the next hour we clock watched. Eventually a nurse came to us and said that Joseph was a little upset and they needed one of us to go to him. I didn’t even give Carl a chance to volunteer, but leapt up and followed her down the corridor. When I went into the recovery room, Joseph was screaming his head off and had blood running out of his nose. I picked him up and tried to sooth him, the machine that he was attached to kept bleeping alarmingly. He stopped crying quite quickly, but his oxygen saturations were still low (hence the beeping machine). The theatre nurse said he would have to stay on oxygen for a while. We got him settled into bed and he was wired up to a mask (which he hated). He was still clearly traumatised by the whole experience so I went and put my pyjamas and got in bed with him. We snuggled up and eventually he fell asleep. The monitoring machine beeped every 10 minutes – I don’t believe I slept a wink. The following morning, Joseph still needed the oxygen. The paediatrician came to see him and said that he thought Joseph should stay in for another night.

Over the course of the day, the nurses worked hard to get him off the oxygen. It soon became clear that his saturation levels were good while he was awake, but dipped significantly when he was asleep. He was diagnosed with sleep apnea. After some discussion we all concluded that he had probably had this before he went in the hospital. What we needed to do now was reassure ourselves that when he stopped breathing, he started again simultaneously. I stayed awake for another night, listening to that bloody machine beeping. In the morning Joseph was a lot better and proved this when he rammed several people with a dolls pram that he was pushing up and down the ward. Two doctors checked him over and said he could go home.

At that point I took a moment to be thankful for my healthy children. Yes the hospital stay had been stressful, but I was taking home a well boy. Some of the children in that hospital had been in there longer than they had been at home. There were kids with really debilitating illnesses and disabling conditions. I recalled a mum the day before who had wept uncontrollably as her 12 year old wheel chair bound son was pushed to theatre for a 6 hour, spinal operation. Another mum had slept in a chair next to her 16 year old daughter for the last 4 weeks. There was a little Down Syndrome baby who had a catalogue of medical problems, peering through the bars of his cot. I wonder how these parents and children cope, I suppose the answer is that they have to. It makes me realise that there are a lot of brave people in this world who are not acknowledged as such and probably don’t even think that they are.

When we left at lunchtime, I saw the boy’s mother who had undergone the back operation the day before – it had gone well. The sixteen year old girl had been told she could go home and the little Down’s baby was having his operation that day. Joseph has bounced back much quicker than we thought he would and is already showing real signs that he is healthier – he no longer snores.