Jan 10 2008
This morning, the various machines surrounding George had mostly gone dark. The syringe machines were all off. The ventilator was off (although he still has a less intrusive breathing machine – two little pipes up his nose which make a constant, quiet hiss). Only the monitors showing his heart, blood pressure and saturation remain.
We’re told he’s ready to leave intensive care (actually it’s called PICU – paediatric intensive care unit – but I like PICU – it sounds like a Pokemon). Each PICU child has a little stuffed pony figure – a Heath Robinson device to wedge under the child’s head to stop it rolling on its pipes and wires. We’re calling ours Picu.
However, he can’t leave because there are no beds in Camel ward. There are two other children ahead of him in the queue to leave PICU (they’re ahead because they’re older and so they complain more- and PICU is a quiet place).
Looking out of the window of our private cubicle, we catch glimpses of other children in other beds. One looks as though he’s having cpr but everyone is laughing and smiling, so it can’t be that. Another’s parents are chatting to the nurse. I think that’s probably part of the nurse’s job – as the patient’s stabilise, there’s less for the nurses to do and there’s never anything for the parents to do, so chatting to the nurses is the only entertainment.
We take a trip at lunchtime to go up to pick up the shark documentary which I’ve had to have copied to HD tape for Electric Sky. When we return, there’s a bed in Camel ward (actually it’s not the bed’s, but the staff that are short). We move out of PICU to our own room in Camel ward (one of the perks of MRSA). We take with us a portable screen for displaying George’s vital signs which keeps emitting beeping noises until the nurse who doesn’t know how to use it properly turns it off.
George still has a couple of wires and the nasal breathing tubes, but is looking a lot brighter. He’s also being given more food and is starting to enjoy it again.
Pietro, Russ and Evelyn visit later in the day, and it’s great to see them. It’s all feeling so much more normal with visits and being back on the normal ward. For the first time since the operation I come home and am able to type up this blog.
This morning, the various machines surrounding George had mostly gone dark. The syringe machines were all off. The ventilator was off (although he still has a less intrusive breathing machine – two little pipes up his nose which make a constant, quiet hiss). Only the monitors showing his heart, blood pressure and saturation remain.
We’re told he’s ready to leave intensive care (actually it’s called PICU – paediatric intensive care unit – but I like PICU – it sounds like a Pokemon). Each PICU child has a little stuffed pony figure – a Heath Robinson device to wedge under the child’s head to stop it rolling on its pipes and wires. We’re calling ours Picu.
However, he can’t leave because there are no beds in Camel ward. There are two other children ahead of him in the queue to leave PICU (they’re ahead because they’re older and so they complain more- and PICU is a quiet place).
Looking out of the window of our private cubicle, we catch glimpses of other children in other beds. One looks as though he’s having cpr but everyone is laughing and smiling, so it can’t be that. Another’s parents are chatting to the nurse. I think that’s probably part of the nurse’s job – as the patient’s stabilise, there’s less for the nurses to do and there’s never anything for the parents to do, so chatting to the nurses is the only entertainment.
We take a trip at lunchtime to go up to pick up the shark documentary which I’ve had to have copied to HD tape for Electric Sky. When we return, there’s a bed in Camel ward (actually it’s not the bed’s, but the staff that are short). We move out of PICU to our own room in Camel ward (one of the perks of MRSA). We take with us a portable screen for displaying George’s vital signs which keeps emitting beeping noises until the nurse who doesn’t know how to use it properly turns it off.
George still has a couple of wires and the nasal breathing tubes, but is looking a lot brighter. He’s also being given more food and is starting to enjoy it again.
Pietro, Russ and Evelyn visit later in the day, and it’s great to see them. It’s all feeling so much more normal with visits and being back on the normal ward. For the first time since the operation I come home and am able to type up this blog.
1 comment:
Been logging in frequently since Monday to see if you'd had a chance to write up anything.
All our very best to all of you. Take good care.
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