Oh for a Simple Week: Lockdown Week Six

Storm clouds, PPE, shielding, heartache and vomit.

I loved the way the light and contrast looked on the apple blossoms last night; a reminder that even when the sky is dark with storm clouds, light and hope remain.

I am slightly alarmed by the fact that my Other Half has just informed me how beautiful I look, when the only thing I’ve done is to actually bother to dry my hair after washing it and get half dressed! Oh dear. Welcome to Lockdown Week Six. Any week that starts at 5am, waking to your Littlest having a 40.5 degree fever, actually accepting Calpol (a miracle in itself) and then promptly vomiting it all over you, is never going to be the greatest in Lockdown. I wished on Monday that I could just fast-forward through the week then. In hindsight, I still wish much the same! What a horrendous week.

I should like to mention that upon writing this I am now fully dressed, chilling in my bargain sale price Sweaty Betty Lounge trousers (full price is not allowed by the family budget and as a grown up, I put in my request early for Santa this year or I put on some sexy lingerie, I can’t remember which to be honest!) and snuggly jumper. Having actually run my straighteners through my hair and added some makeup I am wondering if I should resort to my “absolutely no chance whatsoever” animal print complete with hood onesie (you know the ones Ladies 😉), since I must now look beyond ravishing 😂

I think the week has got to me. Honestly, I have never seen my Littlest so poorly as I have witnessed this week. Thankfully it turned out to be tonsillitis. But though she is a frequent flyer in terms of tonsillitis, she is not usually this poorly. I was concerned about her fever being so high and what we could do with me being in shielding. Of course, most things now a days seem firstly to always be viral, so mostly it is a case of wait and see. I understand the fever being an immune response which is not necessarily a bad sign and all that.

Her fever persisted to be high through out the day, dropping with the Calpol only to return to 40 degrees. We were reassured by the GP phonecall on Monday afternoon that as long as she was settled, the Calpol for pain was fine, and no need to worry about the fever. This was quite different to the last Doctor’s stern warnings about high fevers and febrile convulsions upon Missy’s last visit to A&E for a high fever. There is always, as they say an exception to the rule. My Littlest has avidly always hated Calpol, to the point it doesn’t get in and any that might succeed in getting beyond the pursed lips is promptly spat out, and with vehemence. Medicines can be emitted via spitting or vomiting, whatever works best 🤯. Which in some ways is just the innate mechanisms of disgust, presumably this, at some point had a life preserving element to it. However, nowadays it just causes immense frustration when you are trying to help an noncompliant toddler feel better.

Thankfully she felt so ill that Calpol was actually going in. Which is good because we had been prescribed The Butt Suppository for emergencies; though as I bemoaned to my Doctor on Monday morning, alas no PPE had been co-prescribed with it. Ewww 🤢. I since remembered I had five pairs of PPE gloves in the garage, I had a bought for some craft activity, no doubt at some point. I never bother with gloves when grouting, a bit like gloves for gardening, I don’t think it is always necessary and there is something really pleasant about being hands on with your craft. Fortunately, I did not need to administer paracetamol by such methods. Reprieve.

Well my days were now restricted to a sofa-side vigil with lots of hand holding and cuddling. The only thing allowed on television was Four Coloured Cars (if you have no idea what I am talking about, you may be grateful!), but that is easy enough to tune out with a book. Initially, homework was completed from the sofa and life more or less continued. Though mine was much more restricted. Still, I could have the novel (ha ha) opportunity to read my book, so you just make the best of the situation, as you can.

And life continued like this until Tuesday night, when the night was anything but settled, between her breathing, the fever and the pain, the words broken night, don’t do it any justice; more like shredded.

On Wednesday the Littlest lay semi awake on the sofa, half watching Four Cars but her breathing was strained and her fever still running high. Concerned in case of the Corona Virus, I followed the protocol: I rang 111, where I spoke to Alicia, then Chelsea, then Laura, who told me to ring my GP. She had no cough, so not likely to be Corona, which we knew, but her breathing was not right and equally with me being in shielding and her only doing family walks, she still had managed to pick up something, going by the high fever. I left a message with the GP surgery and was notified I’d be called back in the day at some point. Exhausted I headed for a nap with the Littlest who was still not very good at sleeping and was quite jerky but insistent that I could not leave her.

It was deemed that the Littlest did indeed need to be looked at. They see one patient an hour currently, most likely because of the amount of disinfection and dressing required. Missy was to be seen at 4pm. And this is when shielding truly began to suck and feel quite lousy. If I even left her side to go to the loo she would cry out for me and now she would need to go to the Doctors and I strictly could not go with her. But it was what it was and she needed to be seen and I would much rather she was. Her breathing not being good at all and herself being so far removed from how she is normally. Even chocolate had long ceased to go in, and fluids were hard enough. I’m not saying my husband is not a good Daddy, not at all, but it’s usually me that does these bits and I being the one the Childers want.

So everything was sorted and my husband dispatched with the Littlest in the pouring rain. I decided I would not be able to rest much, despite being so tired. So I took the opportunity for 25 minutes of a brisk grounding walk on the treadmill, mostly praying as I walked and then finally had a shower. It had been very hard to undertake such an activity with the Sick Limpet stuck to me.

At 16:45, I realised that all must not be well, since with only a patient an hour, it was unlikely that the Doctor was running late. Upon checking my phone, it was confirmed that they had been referred to the Children’s Ward at the Hospital due to concerns over her breathing and

high pulse rate. At that point the reality of shielding and how it felt was heart breaking. I rang my Gran and just cried down the phone. I longed to be there and comforting my daughter but I could not be and it was so hard.

I’d struggled on Monday with the idea that I felt I was having to chose between my “mother self” and “myself” in knowing how best to look after my Childer. My Gran or Gran-Gran as she has be known since the birth of my Eldest, (Great - Grandma being a bit of a mouthful) is one of the strongest women I know. She was 90 on April 24th, just over a week ago. She is suffering with dementia, which means I find phone calls hard, as I forever feel I am losing her and you never know how much of “her” will be at the end of the phone line. Anyhow, at the age of 88 she chose to fight on and after having it confirmed that her second breast had cancer, she opted to have it lopped off like the first one had been, so she could continue her life. Brave and courageous woman. Corona World has meant her Birthday celebrations have been delayed, but hopefully will happen at some point in the future. So I cried, then still having my Eldest at home, made it through the rest of the day with him. I didn’t think they would be coming home over night, judging by the messages coming out of the hospital. So, having returned to my comfy mattress and the super king bed, with all the outings of the day, I had to return to the confines of the Nursery. My Eldest decided to camp out on the floor, so we made up a comfy bed and to be honest I think it was nice for both of us, though a bit cramped when Cokey decided he would snuggle in the mix too!

At this point, I must confess, I do come from a line of worriers. And no matter how hard you try, Worry and it’s ally Anxiety are so good at creeping under the covers with you at night and whispering into your ear when you are on your pillow. Even in the stillness and quiet, how incessant It whispers, on and on. I took two sedatives, but it still took ages for me to find some slumber.

I was surprised to be awaken by full on screaming around 2am. My Littlest has returned and wanted her Mama. So stumbling across my Eldest, the bedding was transferred. Shielding is logical and great, unless you have a child screaming out for you, in which case, no matter what the government says I will go to my child because I just can’t not go. The night was similar to the previous one, broken with fever, pain and breathing issues with the jerky movements, these seem to be at the points where her breathing paused and then she would jerk herself awake. Thankfully we “slept” in till around 07:00, but then she woke up and vomited blood. The chillls came along and after a clothing change, she was shivering and her breathing was bad and lips turned purple. By 07:30 she was back in hospital on the Children’s Ward.

It was a waiting game, she had obviously lost blood in the night as it was on her and my pillow. Apparently discharge wasn’t clear cut in the night but she wasn’t sleeping well so they thought she might rest better at home. To be honest, I don’t think she slept better at home, but she had me, which was something she wanted. As much as I wanted to maintain a some semblance of normal for my son, my focus was gone, so he enjoyed extra Xbox and less school work. We waited to see if my Littlest would take her antibiotics. We had the experience of being prescribed five different antibiotics after she had Scarlet a Fever earlier in the year. I debated making an antibiotic drizzle cake! She had refused to intake any of them, in the end, after a huge battle, she had taken one antibiotic. She was now refusing this one too, possibly because of pain maybe too.

I have no idea why she remains so resolute in her refusal of medicine. It seemed to peak, after the global withdrawal of her reflux medication that she had been on since she was teeny tiny. We literally had tried to smuggle it into everything from milk to yoghurt, to whatever we could think of. Her tongue became adept at detecting the minutest quantities and rejecting the food source or fluid it was in. Upon having heard me tell the consultant that we had finally succeeded in mixing it into her morning yoghurt, she promptly stopped eating all yoghurt from that day onwards. It took months for her to restart eating yoghurt. These Little People are smart and tricky at times! She has always had the ability to understand way beyond her words! So we waited to see if she would need IV antibiotics or how to move forward. She was already needing the Suppositories of the Butt in hospital. Though to be fair, she was suddenly in an environment with everyone in full PPE trying to get her to ingest medications she already didn’t want. She was scared. She cried every time they came into the room my husband said. I think I would too, it’s hard enough to understand as an adult, let alone explain to a nearly three year old.

IV antibiotics was obviously not going to be the easiest course. And as I attempted in vain to rest, the idea of the distance and how tough it would be for her, myself and my husband hit home. And I wondered if perhaps the beginnings of Feminism came during those War Years? Though I am in no way a historian, most definitely not. But the strength of those women really astounded me; what must it have been like to kiss their husbands, boys and lovers goodbye and send them out into the unknown. To then have to plod on with life, continue to raise their families and provide for them, to go to work and aid the War Efforts. The incredible strength of these Women, holding together the torn but precious fragments of the patchwork of “normal” life. I am in no way diminishing the heroic contributions and heartache of the Men in these Great Wars, I just felt it more from my own female perspective.

Thankfully the absence was brief and my Littlest returned home and we pressed on with oral antibiotic administration. That has been a much greater success than ever envisaged or seen before, for which I am truly thankful. Though from the moment I took her into my arms at the door, she has not left them until yesterday. I have finished my book, though I would prefer to have read it in different circumstances. The emotional and physical toll of the week has taken longer to shift. And now there is the lingering knowledge and the wait to see whether, despite their best efforts to sanitise, some viral particles may have infiltrated our well shielded boundaries and snuck into my home and whether they will nest in my lungs. I much prefer watching the birds nest in the garden. I have to commend the Male Pigeon on his vigilance over the nest where his Wife remains. I also watched a female Blackbird tirelessly build her nest in a shrub this week. I promised myself I will do all I can to keep our Little Hunter Holly from finding them 🤦🏽‍♀️. We are moving from Mice to Fledging Gifting Season.

In perfect timing for the nice weather having hastily departed, my garden solar lights arrived at the start of the week. They have remained in the box. And literally as I wrote my last Musing, my Tumble Drier decided to take a permanent furlough. Not the best timing due to the amount of vomit needing to be laundered this week, but equally, most washing wasn’t a priority anyhow.

However, I was quite excited to build my “Propagation Station” this week and in an effort to keep rolling with life, I have found it a pleasant spot in the garden. I almost felt like a proper gardener for a little while. Ok, I’ll level with you, my Propagation Station is actually a mini plastic greenhouse, but that doesn’t nearly sound as posh! After all this is the Good Life and all 😉.

And I am pleased to report that the Littlest is vast gaining her spirit and strength back 😃. I’m doing my best to catch up with her! It seemed a bit of a celebration to have an alfresco dinner in the garden last night. My Eldest decorated the table with Mother’s Blooms (Dandelion heads; bright as the sunshine - which was fleeting in the sky - dandelions are always the first bouquets I have been given by my Childers 🥰). He’d tucked a whole circle of them in between the wooden slats of the table and despite the flaking paint and the table being old (it belonged to my Grandad who I loved very much and lost too young) the adornment was beautiful. In fact quite perfect. Of course, we are a week late to be having a BBQ, people with more sense, did that last weekend. But having only the ability to do one online weekly shop means doing a BBQ on an impulse is not possible and my planing was a bit behind. Yes it did indeed decide to become a heavy shower the moment the food was out! But my Eldest has prepared for this eventuality, by heroically wrestling with the parasol he dug out the shed, when he was supposed to be helping with the gardening🙄 So all in all it was a precious moment, back as a family, back together and we wait to see what next week brings around. I cannot finish though, without thanking all those who have helped us get through this week, the love, support, kindness and prayers. You know who you are and I am so grateful. Take care, stay safe and stay sane.