Day 4

OH DUDES – to say I am tired is a complete and woeful understatement. Today has been what we term a fullonathon. 

Oscar wakes me at six this morning after I fell asleep late (what, I haven’t watched Cast Away in YONKS and Helen Hunt actually looks quite ugly in that movie and WIIIILLLLLLSSSSSOOOOOONNNNN and you know, Tom Hanks is quite acceptable when he is painfully thin and it was quiet in a room with carpet and only one other boy and his mum who were completely normal) and then slept badly as Oscar slept well and I kept waking with each time he voluntarily moved around the bed, moving.his.legs. and so on and so forth. 

And what does Oscar want? Oscar wants to get up. Now. NOW? Can we get up now? What now mumma? What up next? Now? MUMMA, OGGA UP! Go everywhere. 

Holy crap dude, where’s that morpine based pain killer when you need it. 

So I am all, breakfast first, then I need to have a shower and then we get you up. Bear in mind I have no idea of the protocols in this ward and/or who makes up the cavalcade of doctors, clinicians (is there a difference? who knows) and therapists in those first few bleary hours when you are at your weakest for remembering questions you wanted to ask and things you needed to know. 

Turns out, Oscar is as conniving as I thought as while I am in the shower he ropes his nurse into helping him get up. Get this though, she totally trumps him as when he is finally in his wheelchair she said cheerily, ‘right then, let’s go and have a shower!’ 


So off we went to the torture chamber bathroom where there was all manner of wailing and gnashing of teeth and blanket refusal to do anything and asking for anyone except me and head-in-hand moribund behaviour. 

Then the water hit his skin and he was all sighing the sigh of blissdom. Meanwhile, the nurse and I had a quiet swig from the hipflask with a couple of his gabbapentin painremovinghappyhappyblissbombs. 

Well not really, but you totally know I’d have been up for it. 

Let’s just say I was over that butt-crack odour and got a good scrubbing in his downstairs region. Oh yeah baby. 

Then there was the putting on of normal clothes causing further happy sighs and then I well and truly needed a lie-down. 

BUT NO! Let’s go mumma! So off we went, wandering corridors and generally perfecting the art of aimless until some volunteers came in with some games and activities and I was saved for a while and managed to sew all of about 12 stitches on my RicRac hedgehog gifted to me in a sewing survival kit sent by Sooz. Blessed I tell you. 

THEN we had to go to the toilet!
Time for a bowel motion, the first in five days! BRING IT ON SON, BRING IT ON. 

Well dudes, can I just say, getting a kid who can not put any weight on his legs on and off a toilet? Possibly one of the most energy sapping, patience wearing, agonising processes to occur. Oi. 

Still, there was action down below and it was a big tick for him and for my peace of mind. 

THEN visitors ahoy!!!

Our friends E & M arrived bearing edible delights and just adult comfort for me. They read this but it didn’t stop me from telling them it all all over again because OTHER ADULTS! Not in the hospital trauma mode! 

Then Oscar’s friend C from school and his mum, who has wicked tatts AND is an awesome hairdresser, came to visit bringing gifts of magazines (a quilting one no less with patterns in it I so want to make! which can sometimes certainly not be the case hello the Land of Twee why do you torment me so?) food – from the camps of nutritious and treat and so many lovely presents for Oscar. 

I tell you – beautiful people fill our world.

Chef and Felix came in who I swear has grown about 5cm this week as well as losing two teeth in three days (WTF???) 

Our little entourage went and hung out in the Starlight Room which is code for TOTALLY WICKED or maybe FULLY SICK – think about six set-ups of playstations and Wii games, musical instruments, a full wall-screen for more Wii action or movies and more craft and games than you could poke a stick at.  

Then it was time for late lunch and we headed downstairs to the official opening of a new playground totally funded and built by the George Gregan Foundation. George was there and my goodness, that man is little but he is hot and has a body that is totally inappropriate. Anyway, it turns out one of the two organisers behind the foundation is a woman I used to work with in PR right before I had Oscar. Someone I really admired and had a girl-crush on and then completely lost contact with. As you do. We had a very brief catch-up, our story was gold (you know, new playground for sick kids and here we were, this being only the second time I’d been out of the hospital since Tuesday blah blah blah.) and next thing I know Oscar’s having his photo taken with hot-stuff George (who has one of the most strikingly beautiful wives I’ve seen in quite some time and compulsory gorgeous children). It’s all lovely, she tells me not to leave without seeing her again as she’ll load me up with things for all the boys but Oscar tires and gets cold and despite my best efforts I can’t sight her and we have to exit. 

Also in attendance were Jessica Rowe, her husband Peter Overton and their painfully delicious daughters Allegra and Giselle, the head of the hospital and so many other VIPs and suits and clearly Eastern Suburbs children it was all a bit confronting. 

Then I spied a woman arriving with her two daughters. She was someone I went to school with although she was the year behind me she had been very good friends with my next door neighbour and despite having an awful family tragedy happen to her, was such a right royal bitch to me from the first time she met me I could never find the appropriate compassion. I saw her arrive looking every bit the princess she had been in highschool with these daughters cut from the same cloth and quite frankly could not get out of there quickly enough. 

Isn’t that ridiculous. That in the middle of being this remarkable strong woman while my son went through this major surgery and lengthy recovery I was reduced to flee Flee FLEE by this woman. Eugh. 

Then I return upstairs to field some calls from my mother which clearly reveal she is exhausted and stressystressstressstressed. Which is, you know, totally to be expected but also totally ridiculous as the two little boys were at my SIL’s today and Felix was with Chef – all arranged primarily to give her a break. Instead she was all angsty and worried and stressy and narky and everything I do not have the energy to deal with but know I must as she has helped out beyond the pail (pale?) this week. 

So then, Oscar finally admits maybe a rest is in order (it’s about 2.45pm by now) and after another transfer (which I tell you are going to KILL ME) to the bed lasts about half an hour before OHMYGODAPOOISCOMING so we get back into the chair and back to the toilet and back onto the toilet for him to go, oh no, it’s just a wee. 
Then my brother and niece arrived which was just lovely as we headed back downstairs and explored the new garden/playground with only one other family. Divine. 

Then, we get back upstairs, hang out for a while, my inlaws ring from Paris (seriously is Skype not the most wondrous of inventions?) and then Oscar is all WEEWEEWEE. So we’re back to the bathroom, back onto the toilet, only to discover we were basically too late. Perfect opportunity for pj pants I say. 

We do the transfer from chair to bed which is torturous due to extreme tiredness on both our parts. 

Dinner comes, he eats one bite of this, one piece of that, some custard and cake and is asleep by 6pm. 

It’s now 7.40pm and I tell you, I won’t be far behind him. 

At this stage it appears we will be going home on Monday (which also happens to be Felix’s birthday). This basically fills me with complete fear. We tried a few different transfer options to the toilet at home but now that I know what is involved, none of them are going to work. Oi.