He is where he needs to be

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Oscar spiked a temperature yesterday which was kind of weird. Then he wandered lonely as a cloud around the house crying and wailing which was kind of really annoying. I pointed out to my other 99 children that here was a case study on how NOT to garner maternal love, care and affection.

Then he slept for 15 hours which made the alarm bells clang and me berate myself for having such a cold dead heart. Didn’t stop me from harassing him to actually get up, have a shower and ‘you’ll feel so much better’ him.

He kept saying, ‘no hospital’ which I kept putting into the category of “annoying melodramatic manchild behaviour”. Also, file under: Cold Dead Heart.

And then he pointed to his foot and said, ‘ow.’

Remember the last time he pointed to his foot and said ‘ow’? Yeah. That.

So here we are, back at Mona Vale Hospital which I did nickname the Hospital of Hotness after seeing two spunky emergency registrars (hello Mr AmeriCanadian and Mr Scotland) and a rather easy-on-the-eye radiologist. Small mercies, looking for the positive wherever you kind find it and all that.

Cellulitis in the same leg, the same spot, the same same same.

You tell yourself this is where he needs to be.

You think of Eden in Niger and Nat Bass in Ethiopia and thank all the powers that be that the worst you endure are stupid people in Emergency Department waiting rooms with minor ailments that simply require ice, some panadol and a good lie down.

But it doesn’t help.

You know the antibiotics will kick in, that yes, you’ll be in hospital for probably-somewhere-around-at-least- five-days but really, it’s so small fry compared to the Mighty Tiff and Brave Ivy and what so many others contend with each and every day.

But the reality is trying to work out who’ll look after your other kids and ‘oh my God all those clothes I’ve dumped in the little boys room that still need to be sorted’ and ‘how the hell am I going to do my first shift at the kindergarten tomorrow’ and ‘holy crap there’s nothing in the house for the kids school lunches’ and all the rest.

You tell yourself this is where he needs to be.

The cannula goes in with barely a wail – a lot of wimpering and wriggling but no thrashing and wails to rival the hounds at the gates of hell.

The ortho registrar comes around – another ridiculously good looking medical professional. A bit short and I’m not happy with his shoes but having someone easy on the eye say to you, ‘this is very concerning,’ is a little bit helpful.

There’s talk of surgery to remove the hardware in his foot from the 2010 surgeries. (Read about that adventure here, here, here, here, here and me having sex dreams on the floor of Oscar’s ward here, here and here.

There is plaster applied to the leg to immobilise it. The phrase “disintegration of the joint” is mentioned.

You tell yourself this is where he needs to be. And yet all you want to do is run. Grab him and run. It’ll be fine. We’ll deal with it. But you know this is where he needs to be.

You really need chocolate. And suddenly you have an overwhelming urge to cry. This catches me unaware and now, as I type this, I’m sobbing. In the crappy “Parents Dining Area”. I don’t sob in hospital. I save it up for when we get home and yell at everyone instead. It normally comes out in me mopping floors which you know, means that at least happens once a year.

But it’s too much. This kid. This manchild who drives me wild with all the questions and the contradictions of wanting to be a teenager but playing the disability card when he can’t be arsed to pull his own doona up over him when he gets into bed, of following me around like a shadow, of loitering at the boys’ house next door like a lost puppy, all of it. It’s too much. It’s so unfair.

I want to scream FUCK YOU God but I don’t even believe in him anymore so that’s pretty useless. It’s one thing for me as a parent to be dealt the card of a kid with a dodgy chromosome, but to make the child pay for it with needles and pain and doctors and surgeries and a body and brain that just don’t want to work together is just cruel.

But we will be fine. We will get through this. We will rise up from the fall down.

He is where he needs to be.


Written by allconsuming

April 23rd, 2012 at 11:02 pm