Physically, The Tree House is your typical children's ward in an NHS hospital. Cots with babies in, beds with children in, seats full of parents, grandparents, siblings and friends all there to support and love those precious little people in our lives. What makes The Tree House so special are the nurses, doctors, ward assistants and cleaners who work there. I will forever be indebted to the team who saved Ivy.
We were moved from HDU to the special care unit, we had our own little room, with a single bed that I shared with Ivy. Normally a great sleeper, recent events had given her nightmares and she struggled to settle without me sleeping near her. Not that I was complaining, feeling her little body in my arms at night was an amazing comfort to myself as well. I felt, and feel, ridiculously lucky to be able to hold her.
Ivy was taken off the drip and had all those wires removed, an additional infection (a virus which some now believe can be a trigger for t1 diabetes) was gone and she just needed her stats checking 4 times a day. She still needed her glucose levels checking every 2 hours but she was so good, she was already starting to hold her tiny fingers out to be pricked, releasing that little drop of blood for the monitor. She still had the two canulas in her head, but now the drips were gone, they could be taken out. One at a time they were removed, she loved being able to lie on her side but the sites became "boggy", her head became very swollen, full of excess fluid. It drained away within a few hours but our poor poppet's head was as round as the moon! It was at this point we were told we could take her for a walk. Armed with a tube of glucogel, in case she went hypo, we walked to Sainsburys...and went straight back! I was so nervous.
On the Tuesday morning, the consultant who succeeded in inserting the canulas and effectively saving Ivy's life in HDU, came to see us. She said she had never been so nervous when calling work for an update after treating a child, she wasn't 100% on what the outcome was going to be. When she was told that Ivy was stable and making slow progress she was so pleased and relieved, she called back an hour later to hear it again, and then she called once more! Eventually the doctor on shift had to tell her to stop ringing and to enjoy her day off! She took the name of the on call GP who we saw on the sunday because she wanted to applaud her quick thinking. We owe that GP, Dr Bettina Schoenberger, more than I can imagine.
A doctor called Isaac, full of energy and wide smiles, gave Ivy her first haircut, on a bed in HDU. When she was critical and the nurse came to ask our permission to shave her hair, she did a very conservative job only removing a little bit (on the right hand side) that could be hidden by a comb over. A few hours later, Isaac explained that a second canula was needed as the emergency one may not last. He proceeded to use an NHS bic razor and a little pair of scissors to remove all of the hair on the left side of her head. He was so charismatic doing it, checking it here, trimming a bit more there, that I couldn't really be horrified at what was happening to my beautiful girls head. As a souvenir he packaged up a little bundle of hair..very thoughtful! Prior to this whole experience, I had imagined Ivy's first haircut to be an exciting time, being beautifully styled by our friend Laney, a very talented hairdresser, with not even the hint of a bic razor in sight!
The nurses adored Ivy and she adored them; although at first she did scream every time somebody in a blue tunic came near her... After her ordeal, I wasn't surprised really! They all spoke to her in such a gentle way, you could see her relax more and more, until eventually as soon as she clocked anybody walking past the room her arms shot out and she smiled a smile that no one could refuse. She was showered with attention, cuddles, toys, smiles and compliments. She had her favourites, including a young man who came to clean the room each day. I think at first he wasn't sure what to do when she scrambled to the end of the bed every time he came in but I think he actually began to like it and made excuses to come and see her.
Sam was allowed to stay with us at the hospital, making the night shifts a bit easier. When Ivy's glucose levels begin to creep up, she becomes very irritable and finds it really difficult to sleep. One night we were both shattered and found it particularly hard to try and settle her, at 11:00pm a lovely nurse called Sarah came and offered to take her for a walk, the next thing I knew it was 4am and both Sam and I had fallen asleep. I went to find Sarah, Ivy was fast asleep in her pushchair, all of the night staff had taken it in turns to play with her, including the doctors. In that time she had also had a hypo, been given some glucojuice (high glucose concentrated fluid) and some toast which sent her sugar really high; she is so sensitive! The staff let us catch up on some sleep and dealt with it themselves, some might say it is their job but I think they went above and beyond what they could have done.
Soon we met the diabetes team who will look after Ivy until she is 18, we needed to learn how to inject her ourselves and the thought of this terrified me! We were given a dummy pen and a piece of plastic, fake 'skin'. Sam felt able to start learning before I was, he practised a few times and then gave her a half unit of Novorapid; her fast acting insulin. It took me a few more days, the nurses were so patient and understanding, my heart raced just using the dummy pen and piece of skin! I can still recall the feeling I had when I had to give Ivy her first injection; my hand shook as I hovered above her soft baby thigh for a few extra milliseconds. I pressed the pen and held it in place for 10 seconds, they were the longest of my life and once I removed it, I realised I had stopped breathing! It has got easier but I don't think I will ever get over the feeling I have each time we make a tiny little bruise on Ivy's perfect body.
Whilst Ivy was our priority, our family and friends made sure we were fed, clothed and looked after. Sam's parents brought us our tea every night; the lovely home cooked meals couldn't have been more different to the meal we had the first, terrifying night, we were in hospital...worried and simply eating for something to do, we ate a non-descript beef curry and rice from the hospital canteen, only open for an hour at midnight! It hit me how much we take for granted, being able to pick up anything we fancy and just eat or drink it. That would never be the case for Ivy; another new challenge we faced was to work out how many carbs there are in every single thing she ate, then work out how much insulin she would need to balance it. Thank god Sam is more mathematically minded than I am!
We left The Tree House on a Tuesday, 9 days after being admitted. I felt so nervous but ready to go, we were going on 'home leave' which meant we could go home for the night and if we needed to, we could go back the following day. Armed with a supply of needles, insulin, glucose test strips, epi pens, monitors, sharps bins, ketone test strips, diabetes diaries, food diaries, leaflets, booklets and a full A4 list of what Ivy will need on repeat prescription, we said a very emotional goodbye to the nurses and went home to our little house. After our first night of independent injections, decisions and 2 hourly blood monitoring, we decided we were ready to be discharged. That word sounds so final!
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