Last week we ended up in Tallaght hospital with 10 week old Frankie. We had a great day when suddenly, late in the afternoon, he started feeling very warm and sweaty but he had no temperature. Shortly after he refused bottles, his nappies became dry and he became very irritable. Initially I though he was constipated even though he had pooped that morning. Massaging his belly, cycling his legs round, trying him with some water but to no avail. He seemed in a lot of discomfort at first but soon that dreaded ‘pain cry‘ burst out. My heart was broken. So I rang the hospital and they recommended we bring him in immediately.
It was a stressful night, and that was before I put the phone down. I ran towards the car, forgetting that I had lent mine out earlier that night. We had to find a sitter for Kayla, who hadn’t a clue what was going on. I then prepared a bag for the possibility over an over-night stay. In the middle of all this, I remembered Kayla had squeezed Frankie earlier that morning. Had she pushed in his fontanelles? Had she squeezed him so hard and broke a rib? The things going through my head would give any new mommy nightmares. We arrived after what felt like an hour.
We saw the triage nurse straight away and we were ushered into a cubicle. The nurse now asked for a urine sample. I wanted to scream out “are you for real? He’s had a dry nappy for 8 hours now!!” – Luckily for her I refrained. We got one shortly after, with the results coming back with higher than normal white cells. I don’t know about you, but with high or abnormal white cells you think the worst. Soon after, a Freddie was inserted into his tiny little hand. Having thrombocytopenia, I’m not one bit squeamish with needles. (although I have issues with the B.C.G, that one bloody well hurts tiny newborns, they need to invent an oral solution or something.) They took a blood sample, sent it off to the lab and put him on an IV drip as he was becoming very dehydrated.
Screaming,and clearly in a lot of pain and discomfort, the doctor did a full body examination only to find his foreskin was very tight and he immediately rang for a surgeon to come down. I googled the life out of my phone and came to the conclusion he might need a circumcision, a very common procedure nowadays. I can totally live with that.
We were transferred up to a ward, still attached to an IV. He had finally stopped crying, and had a wet nappy. Forty-five minuets after putting my head to the rock solid mattress, another doctor came around to declare he had a viral infection of the ears, nose and throat. She came to this conclusion as his throat was a little red. (Of course it’s going to be red after 4 hours of screaming every ten minutes!!) Me half asleep couldn’t even determine who was in the room never mind clearly register what the doctor had been saying.
A couple of hours later I wasn’t sure if the doctor had really been, so I marched up-to the nurses station to figure out if I’d be dreaming or not. I had no recollection of her opening his nappy, looking at his trunk or even picking him up. I questioned if the surgeon had been whilst I was snoozing. By the look of the nurses face she hadn’t a clue what I was talking about.
I demanded another doctor come down to do a full body examination. As far as I was concerned I was waiting on a surgeon. Again, this doctors diagnosis was a viral infection. A few hours later Frankie started downing his 3-4 hourly, 5 oz feeds. The only proof of his horrid ordeal is the little bruise where his Freddie was inserted.
Like most other parents, I believe a ‘viral infection’ is another word for ‘i haven’t a clue what’s wrong with him’. I didn’t have a great experience with the doctors this time in my local hospital. I left feeling that they had thought I overreacted rushing him in for not drinking his bottles. I couldn’t care less what they think and we decided we were going for a second opinion about his little manhood as the very first doctor was very concerned.
We brought him to our local G.P and he was astonished at the fact the doctor was originally concerned about his penis. It exactly how it should be. He made us giggle saying he’d ‘love to give that doctor a slap’. If that not enough to calm my nerves nothing will.
I just wished through this little ordeal that he could talk and tell us what was wrong with him like any parent would. Wished their life away. It’s horrible knowing something is wrong and you just don’t know what it is and have to go to hospitals, G.P’s etc. to find out.
It’s a week now and he is still perfect in every way. Hopefully no more hospital visits for a long long time.
As for me… I’ve eventually got my cast off and started physiotherapy, but unfortunately three days later split my head open. I’m on the mend with four staples and some Tylex. Maternity Leave is certainly not serving me well. Lets hope that’s the last of the hospital visits ehh…
Until our next adventure