The next morning was very strange. I don't recall getting any sleep and everything was changing. Nothing felt right it was like we were sitting on a knife edge
Michael came in and he was finally able to comprehend what had happened the night before - he was awake. He sat and had his first cuddle with his son breathing unaided in his arms. Like me his arms started to ache and he had to put him down however I was shocked at how short a cuddle he had. Upon reflection this is when Michael started to pull away and I took over. Michael had reached his limit, he couldn't cope with anymore.
Everything was different, staff discussions were different and you felt like you were part of something bigger but you had no say or control.
Mid morning we were told we were moving down onto the infants ward. We met that announcement with mixed emotions. Elation because we were leaving ICU and that was a good thing and fear because we were moving into the unknown. We'd had discussions with staff during the week about where in the hospital we might go when we left ICU. One nurse had told us about the neurology ward and had warned us that it could be scary with children making strange noises. That had scared me so I was relieved when we were told it was the infants ward.
We were now told that we were losing our hospital accomodation and that we needed to clear out our room. Hospital accomodation is only for couples who live in the country and have a child in ICU. This was really scary, where was I going to sleep, I was not leaving Cameron, and Michael and I wanted to stay together. I was told that I may be given a room in the infants ward with a bed and ensuite but I would have to wait and see if there was one available. Otherwise it would be a fold up bed beside his cot. Michael would have to leave the hospital.
We must have looked quite upset because the accomodation clerk took pity on Michael and gave him a single bed room down in the bowels of the hospital. We were apart but at least we were both still in the hospital. We packed our bags and were ready to go.
My mother arrived and we filled her in on everything that had happened over night, she was so happy to see Cameron breathing and looking peaceful.
At this point in the story Michael goes missing. I remember things visually and he is not there. I've just sat and talked to him about what happened that morning and he has no recollection of what happened next. We have a theory and I'm sure as the family talk the missing pieces of the puzzle might be returned to us.
Our theory is that Michael went to HBF, he thinks to register Cameron and I think that is bizarre because why wouldn't we have already have done that but there is a niggling feeling in the back of my head that there was paperwork somewhere that we realized we had to deal with.
We can't recall who's car my mother was driving. Was it our car which we now know my sister drove down and caught the train home. My father must have taken their car home so who's car was she driving? Where was our car? We think she must have had our car and Michael took our car to deal with whatever it was we hadn't done.
So, back to the story after the short interlude in my confused brain.
It takes a long time to get paperwork organized and everything sorted for a ward transfer. It was now past lunchtime so my mother went and bought me some lunch because it seemed we would be waiting a while longer before we left ICU.
Of course, as soon as Mum returned with my lunch the staff decided it was time to move, so the lunch got packed along with everything else. I had my one little bag of belongings and all the flowers, teddies, cards and Easter gifts that we had been lavished with. All loaded up we moved towards the door with Cameron on his bed with cords and machines and staff to transfer us. Suddenly something was wrong and paperwork was retrieved to make adjustments. We stood in the corridor in front of the ICU doors waiting to see what was on the other side.
Michael came in and he was finally able to comprehend what had happened the night before - he was awake. He sat and had his first cuddle with his son breathing unaided in his arms. Like me his arms started to ache and he had to put him down however I was shocked at how short a cuddle he had. Upon reflection this is when Michael started to pull away and I took over. Michael had reached his limit, he couldn't cope with anymore.
Everything was different, staff discussions were different and you felt like you were part of something bigger but you had no say or control.
Mid morning we were told we were moving down onto the infants ward. We met that announcement with mixed emotions. Elation because we were leaving ICU and that was a good thing and fear because we were moving into the unknown. We'd had discussions with staff during the week about where in the hospital we might go when we left ICU. One nurse had told us about the neurology ward and had warned us that it could be scary with children making strange noises. That had scared me so I was relieved when we were told it was the infants ward.
We were now told that we were losing our hospital accomodation and that we needed to clear out our room. Hospital accomodation is only for couples who live in the country and have a child in ICU. This was really scary, where was I going to sleep, I was not leaving Cameron, and Michael and I wanted to stay together. I was told that I may be given a room in the infants ward with a bed and ensuite but I would have to wait and see if there was one available. Otherwise it would be a fold up bed beside his cot. Michael would have to leave the hospital.
We must have looked quite upset because the accomodation clerk took pity on Michael and gave him a single bed room down in the bowels of the hospital. We were apart but at least we were both still in the hospital. We packed our bags and were ready to go.
My mother arrived and we filled her in on everything that had happened over night, she was so happy to see Cameron breathing and looking peaceful.
At this point in the story Michael goes missing. I remember things visually and he is not there. I've just sat and talked to him about what happened that morning and he has no recollection of what happened next. We have a theory and I'm sure as the family talk the missing pieces of the puzzle might be returned to us.
Our theory is that Michael went to HBF, he thinks to register Cameron and I think that is bizarre because why wouldn't we have already have done that but there is a niggling feeling in the back of my head that there was paperwork somewhere that we realized we had to deal with.
We can't recall who's car my mother was driving. Was it our car which we now know my sister drove down and caught the train home. My father must have taken their car home so who's car was she driving? Where was our car? We think she must have had our car and Michael took our car to deal with whatever it was we hadn't done.
So, back to the story after the short interlude in my confused brain.
It takes a long time to get paperwork organized and everything sorted for a ward transfer. It was now past lunchtime so my mother went and bought me some lunch because it seemed we would be waiting a while longer before we left ICU.
Of course, as soon as Mum returned with my lunch the staff decided it was time to move, so the lunch got packed along with everything else. I had my one little bag of belongings and all the flowers, teddies, cards and Easter gifts that we had been lavished with. All loaded up we moved towards the door with Cameron on his bed with cords and machines and staff to transfer us. Suddenly something was wrong and paperwork was retrieved to make adjustments. We stood in the corridor in front of the ICU doors waiting to see what was on the other side.
Hi, Jane! Thank you for reading my post. I've been reading some of yours and I think I can relate to your experience in some ways. I do remember what was like spending the nights at the hospital for a month and three days waiting for a miracle to happen. Looking back, there are things that I regret, and not really aware of meningitis is the foremost. It is quite emotional and I have not fully recovered from losing my sister. Your story, however, is very inspiring for those who survived with or without after-effects and struggle to rebuild their lives. Cameron is an extraordinary boy and I wish him well. Thank you so much for sharing.
ReplyDeleteAnita
Anita, thank you for reading my blog.
ReplyDeleteI think we cope with situations the best that we know how at the time. Wouldn't it have been wonderful if we knew then what we know now about Meningitis. How different our lives would be today.
Thanks
Jane