The Cheeky Chaplain

We went for an ultrasound on Tuesday morning to see what was going on with Danny's relentless throwing-up and they determined straight away that he did indeed have pyloric stenosis. The ultrasound was amazing - the nurse showed me the muscle in his stomach that was blocking the passageway from his stomach to his small intestine and it was so obvious why he couldn't digest any food. I was both relieved and nervous at the thought of surgery so I tried to talk with the nurse about it but she was busy telling me how much she liked my accent and where she's been to in England. This is par for the course wherever I go and I usually find it a huge compliment but sometimes it gets in the way, like this time. Anyway, she finally let me go and by that afternoon they had us checked into Nationwide Children's Hospital.

At hospital admissions I was in the queue with a woman who's daughter was about 8 years old and in a wheelchair. Her head was bald and she had a big red scar that ran from ear to ear, over the top of her head. I felt really bad for her but she was such a trooper, reading a comic book and laughing. It certainly put our Danny's problem into perspective. I also met a woman who had two kids there on different floors and she spent her days going up and down the lift so she could be with both of them. What a nightmare.

Tuesday night they took Danny into surgery and did keyhole surgery on his belly. Craig and I sat in the waiting room and stared intently at the telly screen that shows you what stage the surgery is at. Next to another telly there was a big sign asking parents not to watch programs in the waiting room that might upset other people and it specifically cited Jerry Springer. Makes you wonder what kind of parents would want to watch Jerry Springer while their child was in surgery.

I spent the night in Danny's room while Craig came home and saw to Jack. I have to say, the night wasn't a joyful experience. I had a tiny plastic pull-out bed that squeaked when I moved and Danny was just miserable from not eating all day and having had surgery. Nurses came in every hour to check his vitals and every 3 hours we fed him tiny amounts of formula that just wet his appetite and left him screaming for more. By the next morning I looked and felt like death. About 9am the hospital chaplain wandered into my room. I think he was lost because neither of us were dying and don't you normally ask if you want to see a chaplain? Anyway, he tried to engage me in conversation and I tried to be evasive, hoping he wouldn't try and get me to go to church. Then he dropped a big one and said "are you his grandmother?" It was the first time in my life I've wanted to strangle a clergyman. I'm trying to tell myself he had bad eyesight but am thinking it's more likely that I looked like I hadn't slept for 5 weeks and had laid on a farting matress all night listening to my child crying.

So, we are now home and our boy is like a different baby altogether. He is eating and keeping it down. He is awake more and is producing wet nappies for the first time in his life. What a fantastic relief to get this sorted out.

Now all I need to do is find some miracle face cream that can take 10 years off ...