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Day 3: Nutrition and teaching the experts

Back in November, I offered my help to PINNT to write an article for a nutritional magazine on the subject of being a parent to a tube-fed child. I wanted to share our experiences of the last 12 months and, upon reading the questions asked, I felt it was a real opportunity to reach out and teach the medical professionals who work with families like ours. The potential impact of this article is huge as the magazine has a UK readership of over 13,000 health professionals and is the only nutrition magazine that reaches across the nutrition profession.

In addition to virtually every practising dietician in the UK, it is mailed directly to all senior gastroenterologists, all nutrition nurse specialists and all nutrition pharmacists, as well as lecturers, industry professionals, consultant dieticians and students.   For day 3 of Feeding Tube Awareness week, I thought I’d include the transcript of my article here:

When did you first learn that your child would need to be nutritionally supported by enteral nutrition?

After four years of increasing food exclusions and a raft of daily medicines, M was still massively symptomatic from his EC and the decision was taken in November 2014 to move him to an elemental feed. His NG tube was passed in early December.

Reflecting back to this stage in your life, what thoughts and emotions were going through your head?

The possibility of a move to enteral feeding had been on my radar for over a year and I had become increasingly certain that it was the best way to try to ease the ongoing symptoms and pain that he was experiencing. The heartbreak of holding my sobbing child at 3am, with tears streaming down my own face, as I struggled to find the words to bring him the comfort that nothing else could bring at that moment in time, had left me willing to try anything to ease his pain.

It took Mike longer to come to terms with the prospect of feeding M via a tube, but by the time we agreed with his consultant that we needed to give it a go, we both felt that it was the chance to give M and his body some much-needed relief. The short-term plans we’d been following for the past three years had been all well and good, but we now needed a longer-term care plan put into place as we just couldn’t keep limping from one appointment to the next with different problems constantly cropping up and nothing really being resolved. The consultant warned us that the enteral nutrition might not be the answer we were looking for, but we were desperate enough to still want to try it and stubborn enough to believe it would be what M needed.

At the time of your child commencing on enteral nutrition, what support and information where you provided with from health professionals, and did you feel this support and information was enough?

We weren’t provided with any information about enteral feeding beforehand from the health professionals involved in M’s care and I found most of our information came from online support groups, such as PINNT and FABED. Disappointingly, we then had very limited support from the hospital as the dietician and consultant were both keen to get him discharged as soon as possible and ignored my concerns that we had no local support from our home hospital. Fortunately the nursing staff helped me fight his corner and made sure that both Mike and I were relatively confident in how to manage his tube and work his feeding pump before we went home. M was discharged just 10 days before Christmas and I was really concerned that we would have difficulties accessing any support over the festive period – it was thanks to the wonderful support group parents, the hospital nursing team (who gave me their direct phone number on the ward) and our community nurse that we not only survived, but managed to enjoy Christmas as a family in our own home.

Since being on enteral nutrition what type of long-term care and support has your child received from hospital/community health professional team?

We have a somewhat complex 3-tiered support system in place:

The overall plans for his enteral feeding and the slow re-introductions of food into his diet are managed by his consultant and dietician at Great Ormond Street. I speak to his dietician every 3 weeks to review what’s going on and tweak his care; and we see them both every 3-4 months.

His tube changes are done every 6-8 weeks at the CIU (Clinical Investigations Unit) at our local hospital, who have listened to his needs and help make the appointments run as smoothly as possible with the involvement of play therapists to help distract him.

Our community nurse has helped provide training as needed and is regularly in touch to help and advise as we need.

It may be a somewhat “clunky” approach, but nearly one year on, it’s close to a well-oiled machine and works for us.

How has having a child being fed via enteral nutrition affected your family unit as a whole (thinking about siblings, time in hospital, holidays, etc.)?

Having a child with a chronic illness affects family dynamics and adding enteral feeding to the mix just meant a few additional, albeit significant tweaks for us. The regular hospital appointments do interrupt our daily routine, so I work hard to make sure that life is as stable and as “normal” as possible the rest of the time. M obviously has to take time off school for his appointments, so I try to make sure that he doesn’t miss more than is necessary. I do worry that G gets side-lined at times as our focus so often has to be on M and managing his feeding needs. We’ve encouraged her to get involved as much as possible and as much as she wants, and she is now very capable of helping with his feeding pump. She’s recently started horse-riding, which is something M doesn’t do and gives me some time to spend just with her. As for our holidays, in the past we often went abroad, but didn’t feel confident enough to try it this first year with his tube. Instead we went to Cornwall this summer, with our car packed full of all the necessary medical equipment and enjoyed an amazing week away. We’re now feeling much more able to cope and are hoping to go to Portugal next summer.

When thinking about nursery/schooling, have you come up against any barriers or obstacles (if applicable)?

The impact of M’s ever-changing health has been particularly profound over the last couple of years and there is no doubt in my mind that the unfailing support of their school has been a steadying force not just for G and M, but for the family as a whole. They were willing to have M in school as normal within days of coming home from hospital and 5 members of staff were trained on the intricacies of his tube and feeds so that he could take part in every planned activity with confidence. The positive attitude of the teaching and support staff has also rubbed off on the children and his classmates have been brilliant at accepting his tube at face value and now don’t even seem to see it.

How and when did you first hear about PINNT?

I first became aware of PINNT through the EGID support group, FABED, and other parents of children receiving enteral nutrition, who all recommended PINNT as a great source of support. I then had an invitation to our local PINNT group’s next meeting.

How has PINNT supported you?

Whilst we were waiting for M to be started on enteral nutrition, I researched and read as much as I could about elemental feeding and NG tubes – most of that information was on the PINNT website and explained it in a really accessible way. I love getting the newsletters and reading about people on all forms of enteral feeding. Similarly Mike has found huge reassurance in learning that there are people out there who have not only lived on enteral feeding for years, but have thrived on it and that moving M to it could be a positive step. It helps knowing that we’re not on our own and that there is always somewhere to get advice and support from those living on enteral nutrition whenever we need it.

If there was one piece of advice you could provide other parents with, who have a child commencing on enteral nutrition, what would this be?

When you first hear that your child needs to start on enteral nutrition, it’s almost inevitable that you will feel a great sense of failure and a huge fear about what the months ahead will bring. It’s so important to remember that enteral feeding doesn’t mean you failed your child, but that their health needs mean they need that extra boost to get them through each day. After nearly a year on his NG-tube, M has become the fun-loving, caring and somewhat cheeky little boy we all knew was hiding somewhere inside him. Feeding him via his tube has become second nature to us and it hasn’t stopped him, or the family, doing anything we’ve wanted to. The best news is that we’ve just enjoyed the most “normal” year of our lives ever.

If there was one recommendation that you could make to health professionals, involved in the care of patients on enteral nutrition, in order to improve patient care, what would this be?

I wrote this impassioned plea to medical professionals in my blog earlier this year and feel it encapsulates what I want to say to all healthcare providers:

For most of us, you are our firefighters and the people we are forced to depend on in our darkest moments. We need you to be strong, focussed and the experts that we are not, BUT we also need you to be gentle, compassionate and understand that you are holding the future of our most precious possessions in your hands. Don’t dismiss our concerns, but believe that we know our children best and have an insight or opinion that is just as valid as your professional one. Don’t belittle our emotions, but be empathetic when they overcome us and when we need a shoulder to cry on more than anything else in that moment. Be honest, but in the kindest way, knowing that your words have the power to break us when we least expect it. Most of all, understand that we are constantly living in fear about our children’s health and life and future, so they don’t have to.

*I can’t let today’s post pass without a nodding acknowledgement that it is, in fact, Shrove Tuesday; the day when many of us enjoy a pancake or two before the start of Lent. I can’t even remember whether we managed to eat pancakes last year as M had only just started to trial foods after his 8 weeks on E028, but there’s a sneaking recollection that maybe my Mum cooked some for G, whilst the rest of us ignored the day to the best of our ability. I’m excited that this year I will once again be able to cook pancakes for the whole family and, just in case you need an allergy-friendly recipe to cook for your loved one, I’ve got the perfect one here. Enjoy!

Feeding Tube Awareness Week – Day 1: Choosing to raise awareness

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If anyone was going to describe the last decade of my life, the one indisputable conclusion they’d end up reaching is that it’s been anything but boring. Thanks to a pair of children who have thrown more than their fair share of life challenges into the mix, we’ve weathered more storms than I ever believed possible and, for the most-part, we’ve come out the other side still smiling and relatively unscathed. We’ve survived a lot of challenges, met a whole host of amazing people and learned a great deal along the way; and if I had to pick just one lesson that constantly resonates, I’d have to say that we now know to never take things for granted as they can change at the drop of the proverbial hat. Two years ago I wrote about our limited experience with feeding tubes and then, less than a year later, I found myself blogging about my brand new super-tubie. Another year on and the NG-tube has gone for the time-being and the only thing I can say with absolute certainty is that I have no idea if or when it will make a reappearance in M’s life.

The lessons that the last 12 months have taught us all have been huge and I have come to love and hate that feeding tube in equal measure. For the first time in his life, the reality of M’s chronic illness and multiple food allergies was outwardly visible and finally people understood from a glance that there was more to him than initially met the eye. The constant presence of the NG-tube opened up more conversations and opportunities for me than ever before and I’ve been able to share experiences, offer support and educate the wider community about EGID. We all felt the benefits of that visibility to start with and I no longer felt the underlying pressure to defend the true extent of M’s illness and food allergies whilst my outwardly healthy-looking youngster was intent on tearing around practically making a mockery of every problem and pain we said he was suffering.

Of course, the flip-side was that ever-present tube. The one that there was no escaping or avoiding, no matter the event or occasion. Christmas, birthdays, performances and holidays, the tube was M’s constant companion and he became increasingly aware and conscious of the curious glances that were thrown his way by adults and children alike. His wonderful classmates and our village took it in their stride and quickly became so accustomed to it that M was never subjected to a second glance, but the wider world could stare until he disappeared from view. As well as the tube, we had the problems of M’s face reacting to the unavoidable medical tape and it took us several attempts to find a tape that didn’t burn his cheeks. Even when we finally found the best solution for him, at times he was left with red, sore and sensitive skin that only time tube-free could heal.

Looking back, 2015 was a year unlike any other in our family’s life, but I don’t regret a single moment of it. From that difficult decision to place the NG-tube and start M on an elemental diet, we have seen tremendous growth and an improved health that exceeded all our expectations. Most of all, we now have an opportunity to help raise awareness from the standpoint of personal experience and a road well-travelled, something that, believe it or not, I wouldn’t change for the world.

Introducing Leo…

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12239456_10153105383806123_4074499908760813169_o We’ve had more than our fair share of animals since the children were small and over the years our house has been home to, believe it or not, 7 cats, 1 rabbit, numerous fish and now our latest family member, Leo. For the last 2 years or so, M has been eager to add another pet to our household and not just any pet: he has been very specific about the animal he’s had in mind. I have to be honest and say that I didn’t leap at the chance when he first made his bid, after all I have years of Mummy experience with M’s wildly fantastic and short-lived fads and this wasn’t one I was prepared to indulge unless he was genuinely intent on looking after it for the long haul. I’ve long-held the opinion that our pets have been a massive source of comfort not just for M, but for G and me too, and it was something of a stretch to imagine that this creature would bring the peace that cuddling one of our cats instills in me.

However, M has stuck to his guns and continued to ask for his new pet and finally, back in about October, I gave in and agreed that he could have it and so our plans for introducing a bearded dragon to the household began. Due to the high costs of kitting out this exotic creature, we discussed with M the need for this to be his joint Christmas and birthday present and something we couldn’t just go out and buy tomorrow. I am incredibly impressed by the mature attitude with M accepted this plan, a real sign that my baby really is growing up fast. 20160129_152625 The first step was to buy him a book about them and he has spent hours reading and re-reading about bearded dragons and how to best look after one. His knowledge about these interesting animals is impressive and he has willingly shared what he knows with friends, family, doctors and nurses alike. Knowing that a GOSH admission could happen any day, we delayed our actual purchase until M was back home and life had settled down to something resembling our normal once again.

With the start of a new year, so also started M’s career as the proud owner of a bearded dragon. I was lucky to discover one on-line that needed re-homing and although I was initially concerned that M wouldn’t be keen on a “second-hand” pet, he quickly leapt at the chance when I was able to reveal that his new acquisition would share his birthday! The dragon’s previous owner had called him Nigel, but M felt that didn’t suit and quickly renamed him Leo. The vivarium was strategically measured and fits on top of the pint-sized wardrobes in M’s bedroom, so M can really take full charge of looking after him. Mike and M have willingly taken on the task of feeding the fresh veg and live crickets on a regular basis, which is just as well as it’s the one thing I have refused to get involved with. M spends time every morning and evening handling and chatting to Leo and is slowly filling his diary with play dates for his friends to come and meet a real life dragon. I must admit that owning a reptile was never at the top of my bucket list or life plans, but will confess that he is strangely intriguing to watch.

Leo

Reflections of an admission

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“I think we can all agree that this admission has been a complete disaster”

Mike and I could have been forgiven for expecting to see Craig Revel Horwood in the room, but in fact those were the opening words of M’s consultant at our meeting on day 13 of his admission. A meeting attended by on-call gastro consultants, ward registrars, dietician, nurses and the gastro psychologist and where not one of them disagreed. When those are the words you hear uttered by one of the senior gastro consultants at Great Ormond Street Hospital, you know that things have gone really badly wrong. To say that Mike and I were surprised to hear them offered as the opening gambit is an understatement: we had gone into this meeting prepared for battle, expecting to have to defend our opinion that M’s current deterioration was due to the food challenges, that same discussion I’d been having for the previous 10 days with that same multitude of medics, and without warning they appeared to have come round to our way of thinking.

Since M’s discharge, lots of people have asked about the admission and what happened whilst we were in London. The plan for the original 2-week admission was to trial 4 foods whilst we were there – potato and egg, which we hadn’t done at home – and banana and salmon, which we had, but he had failed previously. The original expectations as discussed and agreed with both his consultant and dietician were that he’d start to show a reaction within 48 hours of starting each food and so the admission was to look like this: 3 days observation to understand his “normal”, 8 days of food challenges – a new food every 2 days whilst continuing with the previous ones – and then 3 days to assess before sending him home. This approach of challenging with 4 foods in 10 days was ambitious to say the least and left no wriggle room for recovery if he failed at any point. Given we are used to spending at least 5 days slowly introducing a new food to M and then expect to take a week, if not longer, to get back to normal, it quickly becomes evident why things didn’t go according to plan.

3 days observation – these happened, but they hadn’t allowed for just how upset M would be by the short-notice of his admission. As I had packed our case having picked him up from school, I could hear him sobbing in the other room and discovered him lying on G’s bed, wrapped in her arms as he cried about missing her birthday and being away from home in the lead up to Christmas. This traumatised him so much that, as for so many people even without gastro issues, his tummy/bowels/digestion were upset and didn’t behave as the “normal” we’d got used to over the last 12 months. This was to later prove a problem as the ward doctors insisted he was constipated on admission and struggled to accept that these new foods were in fact the issue.

8 days of food challenges – we started with potato at a speed and quantity that I just couldn’t comprehend. There was no go-slow and gently increasing his intake here, instead he was allowed to eat “as much as he wants” and after 2 years without potato, believe me he went at it with gusto, even eating 6 roast potatoes at one sitting. Within the first 24 hours he started to show reactions to the potato – severe reflux, tummy aches, a constant need to wee and he started to soil again, something he really struggled with on an emotional level. The ward doctors refused to believe he could be reacting so quickly and their repeated mantra to me soon became “it’ll take 4-6 weeks for him to show a reaction” and “he just needs to push through this“. As each food was introduced, things got worse and worse as he was now completely incontinent, a position we hadn’t found ourselves in for a year. All the signs of his bowel starting to shut down were there as he was weeing for Britain, his appetite was dropping off and his energy levels started to wane and I kept saying that these indicated he was failing the foods, only to be told that it wasn’t possible. They were palpating his tummy twice a day and insistent it felt fine and every conversation ended with “it’ll take 4-6 weeks..yada yada yada…” – by now you get the picture! By day 8, they finally agreed to x-ray and, lo and behold, he was chronically impacted. This x-ray was apparently one of the clearest they’ve ever seen showing it – solid black throughout his colon due to the blockage.

Then came the heated discussions about why this had happened. They were insistent that he must have come into hospital constipated, though how a child who goes every day can be constipated they’ve still to satisfactorily explain to me, and I was equally insistent that he wasn’t. We ended up agreeing to disagree as neither of us could prove it either way, though it has now been noted that should M be admitted again, they will x-ray at the start of the process to make sure we all know the state of his bowel.

3 days assess/discharge – became 6 days of powerful bowel prep continuously via M’s NG-tube plus additional senna for the last 3 of those as things simply weren’t shifting as hoped. I have honestly never seen him so ill as he was by the end of that week – bent double from the cramps, crying, refusing to move from bed or engage with anyone, lethargic and rating his pain at an 11 or 12. Throughout this time he was expected to continue all 4 foods, just in case his obvious bowel reactions were actually nothing to do with the challenges and they had introduced a daily dose of senna to keep things moving, something we hadn’t needed at all during the 12-months being tube-fed.

We finally came home after a further 5 days of “recovery” time in hospital and decided to stop banana and salmon straight away as well as the daily laxative. Things slowly started to improve and we made the decision to allow him to have egg and potato in small amounts for a few more days over Christmas. However, since the 27th we’ve stopped those too and gone back to just his 5 safe foods – and he has recovered amazingly. No tummy aches or pains, as much energy as we’re used to, back to regularly using the toilet with no issues and much, much happier in himself. The medics would no doubt argue that it’s difficult to pinpoint when things started going wrong, but to me it seems obvious: the introduction of these 4 foods is undoubtedly the root cause of his bowel problems in GOSH.

That’s the truth behind our December admission and yet to many I’ve no doubt it will seem that it all went incredibly well. You see, the one thing that was achieved during our stay was that M’s NG-tube was removed and my little superstar has proved us all wrong by accepting the challenge of drinking his feed head-on and is drinking a much-reduced volume on a daily basis. M’s consultant was very determined to get the NG-tube out and at times it felt to us that it was her sole focus for the duration of the admission, which was difficult to cope with when we were needing and hoping for so much more. Achieving that has been amazing, but he hasn’t suddenly started eating a “normal” diet, in fact he’s exactly where he was before we went in, and the need for the elemental feed (E028) is still very much there. The flip-side of losing the tube is that M’s EGID, multiple food allergies and limited diet whilst not diminishing in any respect, have once again become hidden, a set of invisible illnesses, and we have all had to adapt our expectations by keeping that knowledge firmly in the front of our minds. That single small step forward simply does not cancel out the many massive steps backwards that happened whilst we were in hospital and doesn’t acknowledge the harsh reality that very little else in his life has actually changed.

There are no strangers…

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“There are no strangers, only friends you haven’t yet met”

W.B.Yeats

Like most people, I have collected a variety of friends over the last 30+ years, picking them up as I’ve ventured down the various paths my life has taken me. Those friends I’m still in touch with these days span the years: from those I met in the playground and classroom during my first decade to those I survived my angst-ridden teen years with; from the few that are still hanging around following university and my accountancy training to finally that group of “Mummy” friends made since we first found out we were expecting G. In the last 5 years, my friendship group has grown massively as I’ve added to the mix those who are travelling alongside us in our current journey; the fellow EGID Mums and GOSH parents we’ve been privileged to get to know in some of the most challenging of times. These are individuals who really understand the daily struggles and ongoing battles that we survive and are always there to lend a shoulder to cry on or offer words of encouragement or advice when no-one else can. What makes these friends so special is that, in many cases, I’ve never actually met them face-to-face, thanks to the rise of the internet and social media, and yet they are unquestionably available whenever they are most needed.

During M’s recent GOSH admission, we received some amazing demonstrations of support and love from my friends, more than I could ever have expected, and which ensured I never felt on my own. Almost every day I received a message via text or e-mail or FB asking how things were going, sharing news from home and sending love, thoughts and prayers to both M and me. Sometimes those messages would become a conversation and sometimes they simply stood on their own as a reminder that other people were thinking of us. Cards and presents were sent to cheer us both and M’s class wrote their own messages to him, keeping him in touch with all that was happening in school.

We were lucky to receive visits from a couple of good friends: one who we met through FABED and the other from a Mum I met on Rainforest ward during our 2014 stay. These visits really brightened up the long days in hospital and I hope our visitors understand just how much their time meant to us both. Much to M’s disappointment, a couple of other planned visits didn’t happen due to our inability to leave the ward due to Klean-prep, last-minute appointment cancellations and at least one epic failure by me and the other Mum to successfully liaise where we were and when; but most importantly, the thought was there. We also got to meet 2 of those “virtual” friends from on-line support groups, who during the length of our admission were also admitted to GOSH. The ability to finally put faces to names, with a reasonably comprehensive background knowledge already in place and be able to spend time chatting, laughing, drinking tea and commiserating was priceless.

One of my highlights was the opportunity to reconnect with an old FABED friend and fellow blogger, Annie, one afternoon. Her son, R, had been at GOSH for tests that week, but had been staying at the patient hotel with his Dad. On this afternoon, they had been sent up to Rainforest ward for a final meeting before going back home and were given the bed across from M. Whilst Annie, her husband and I chatted away, catching up on news from the last 9 months, M and R renewed a previously fleeting friendship and spent time talking, constructing vehicles, discussing bearded dragons, watching TV and generally just spent time chilling out together.

The most truly astounding show of support came from another Mum that I’ve never met in real life and definitely wouldn’t know if I bumped into her on the street. She is based in London and has a friend who works as one of the visiting art teachers at the GOSH hospital school. Upon hearing that M was confined to the hospital buildings and that I had little time to get out and enjoy much more than quick foods for my meals, she thoughtfully prepared some home-cooked meals that she tailored for my dietary preferences, packaged securely for storage in the ward kitchen and sent in with her friend. These meals could be easily heated in the microwave and were a real treat after days of utterly uninspiring sandwiches and ready meals. As well as this bag of goodies for me including some much appreciated fresh fruit and biscuits, she also tucked in board games and some hand-made get well cards for M.

And it wasn’t just the support in hospital that made the difference: there were people keeping the home fires burning on my behalf too. Both schools kept in touch, asking for updates, talking to G to find out how she was coping with it all and keeping me informed of arrangements for the end of that term and the start of the next. Their Stagecoach principal e-mailed through a suggested directing project linked to the new term’s theme, which would provide some much-needed distraction whilst he was confined to his bed and sent text messages to ask how things were progressing, when we were coming home and wishing us a peaceful Christmas. Finally, thanks to the Mum of G’s best friend, N, Mike could keep those work commitments that he simply couldn’t rearrange as she kindly opened her house to G both before and after school to ensure she was looked after and cared for at all times too.

Another year over

To my darling daughter,

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To my darling daughter on the eve of your 12th birthday:

This wasn’t quite what I had planned.

Today I was supposed to be baking up a storm in the kitchen, IMG_0063[1] making some special cupcakes to celebrate your 12th birthday tomorrow, cakes to make up for you having to celebrate your last birthday at GOSH with M and without a cake. The ingredients are bought and hiding at the back of the cupboard, so maybe I’ll have the chance to bake them for you for Christmas because instead I’m over 100 miles and 3 hours travel time away from you.

Today we were supposed to be enjoying time together as a family as well as with your beloved Godfather, Uncle A and his family; instead you and Daddy are at home with them all, whilst M and I while away our hours within the confines of GOSH on our own.

Tomorrow M and I had planned to serenade you awake with a rendition of “Happy Birthday” before watching you open your presents and cards and sharing the excitement of each new gift with you; 20151018_133210 instead we’ll be watching via FaceTime to see what goodies you’ve received with our fingers crossed that our cards have arrived from London in time.

Tomorrow was going to be a busy day: first to watch you both in our church Nativity, then head off for a special birthday riding lesson before a late lunch at Wagamama to celebrate your big day; instead you’ll be doing those things with Daddy, Uncle A and the rest of the gang, whilst M and I share a quiet day and hope to be able to get to the Carols by Candlelight service at the church around the corner from GOSH.

However, it doesn’t really matter what was planned or what’s going to happen. The most important thing is that even though we’re all these miles apart for your special day, M and I will be thinking of you and celebrating with you and loving you as always. I’m so sorry that we can’t be there with you this year, that we can’t spend your birthday in the way that we all wanted to, but I’m glad that Daddy, Gu and Uncle A are all there to help you enjoy it as much as possible. The last 10 days have been hard, especially knowing that we wouldn’t be home in time and I hope that next year will be very different. In the meantime, know that Mummy loves you very much; that, as I tell you so many times, you will always be my baby, no matter how old you get; and be warned that, when I see you next, I’ll be wrapping my arms tight around you and hugging you close for an awfully long time. B128

Happy 12th Birthday Floss xxx

Déjà Vu

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it-s-like-deja-vu-all-over-again-yogi-berra_design

déjà vu (noun)

a feeling of having already experienced the present situation

Last week, when I penned my blog post marking M’s 1st tubiversary, we were in the midst of a busy week involving Christmas music concerts (G), school Christmas fairs with a choir appearance (M) and my own choir concert; and I was trying hard to avoid an eerie sense of déjà vu that just refused to go away. At the back of my mind I was very conscious that it was one year on from our last GOSH admission and had hanging over me the reality of a long 22 weeks wait for a bed to become available for another one. I can smile about it now, just, but the stars really were aligned for last week’s outcome: my Mum was abroad again; my choir’s Christmas concert was planned for the Saturday night again; and G’s birthday was fast-approaching again.

So really, when you think about it, I shouldn’t have been surprised that the phone-call actually came when we least expected it. I think I’d been lulled into a false sense of security by the time we got to the Wednesday night. Last year our phone summons came at 1.30pm on the Tuesday afternoon and M and I had to be at GOSH by 11am Wednesday, so with no communication from them at all, other than the information passed on by our dietician that he was now top of the waiting list when Thursday dawned, I thought that was it for another week. I had my Friday planned – pack some birthday presents for G, pick up some bits and pieces for Christmas and pull together the items I’d want to take with me to GOSH when we finally had to head to London; plus some much-needed sorting out in the house to get it ready for G’s godfather and his family to visit for her birthday weekend.

I was, in fact, mid-conversation with a work colleague about what was going on re his admission, when the office phone rang and that was it. The bed was available now and we needed to head to GOSH and Rainforest ward as soon as we practically could. With so little notice, dropping everything to go there and then just wasn’t possible, but fortunately Mike and G were at home as she had an inset day, so were able to speed through a couple of loads of laundry and start pulling out all the essentials for a 2 week hospital stay. 7176037017_45f555b6cc_z I started contacting those who needed to know – school, work, his GOSH dietician – and somehow managed to put in another couple of hours at work before heading off to pick M up from school and finish the packing job. The 4 of us eventually set off from home and hit London perfectly in time for the tail-end of rush hour traffic, meaning we finally reached our destination at around 8.30pm.

M and I quickly settled in the bay on Rainforest, not quite the same bed as before, but close and with some old familiar and very welcome friendly faces amongst the nursing staff to help us feel at home. It was almost as if we hadn’t been away, even though it had been 12 months since our last stay. And that was when the real sense of déjà vu hit – we had been here before. It was not just the same situation, the same bed or even the fact that it was the same ward, but on exactly the same day too, something that we could never had anticipated, even though this admission came as no surprise at all.