The garish blue of the hospital walls and the clinical linen on the bed is a stark reminder of where we are and how quickly things can go downhill with a little one.
It's hard to believe that only a week ago we were celebrating her 2nd birthday in style and here we are with her hooked up to an iv drip to get fluids into her after a dire case of vommiting and diarrhoea - she couldn't even keep a thimble full of water down.
I have never felt so utterly helpless as I did last night. Her little body fighting against me, two doctors and two nurses as they tried in vain (no pun intended) to put the cannula into her hand to hook her up to the iv. It was the most awful moment of my life.
But this isn't a post to moan about how rough we've had it. As I pop down to the hospital cafe every now again to take a break and get a fix of caffiene, I'm reminded of how fragile our little ones lives are. I go past high dependency units and SCBU machines and it absolutely breaks my heart to think of those parents and children who have their lives literally hanging by a thread.
I've read blogs recently from parents with poorly children, children who spend most of their lives in and out of hospital and doctors surgeries and I can't even begin to imagine the pain and anguish they must have gone through. I've only had this hospital experience for the last 24 hours, so far, but it will be forever etched in my memory as the worst night of my life.To all those parents and children who have suffered, are still suffering or will suffer in the future - you're in my thoughts.
