To hell and back (part 2)

The ambulance eventually arrived, almost six hours later. The paramedics transferred him to the mobile incubator and Michelle and I followed him downstairs to the ambulance. Michelle got inside with him and I returned to the ward to collect her things, stopped off home to get something, and went straight to the hospital.

I had the shock of my life when I saw my son in the neonatal ICU. I had just been told by the previous hospital  that it wasn't too serious, nothing to worry about, it happens all the time. I got there as they were sticking a feeding pipe down his throat. He was on oxygen to keep his lungs inflated. He was on a drip and had tubes and wires all over him. I was worried before and to see him like this really scared me.

I asked the specialist what he thought was wrong. He said they could not be sure, but that he may have contracted the Strep B bacteria. There was a one in four thousand chance that he might have contracted it despite the antibiotics that Michelle had been given. I asked him what might happen if he did have this, and he said that if it spread it could cause meningitis. They could only be sure once they had done various blood tests. The first blood test would deliver a 50% accuracy and would have to grow culture in about four or five days to determine if this was the case.

My family were there in an instant and I don't know what I would have done without their support. It means far more to me than they could possibly realise. I think I cried more those few days than I had my entire life. Michelle and I had experienced the best and the worst day of our lives in the space of 24 hours.

I was at the hospital most of the time and Michelle was able to feed him in ICU, which was a bit of challenge with all the tubes and wires attached to him. The nurses topped up his milk from a cup to keep his glucose levels up. I have to say that the nurses there were fantastic, chalk and cheese compared to the hospital we had just come from. I felt far more assured with them around.

My only criticism is the lack of information that one is given, but I would imagine that this is true of most medical establishments. Fortunately I was there when they poked around in his little arms, trying to find a vein. I'm sure it helped him knowing I was there, although it was so distressing to see him in such pain. No-one tells you when these procedures are going to happen or why they're doing them. Earlier the doctor mentioned him having an ultrasound. Some time later someone came in with a large machine, asking who was meant to have the brain scan. Brain scan? Tell me when and tell me why! Do they think he's brain damaged?( I later learnt that the final diagnosis could have caused damage to the back of the brain.) But I didn't know that then because no-one told me.

At some point the dreaded gynaecologist arrived and the nurses told her that I had been brave to stay there with him when they were doing all these things to them. She remarked in a sarcastic tone that I was very sensitive. She then told the nurse that she didn't know what was going on that week, that she had delivered 11 babies and 10 of them were in ICU or experiencing problems! I could have told her that it was simply down to her, but I wasn't in the mood for a fight. I will be tackling her and her attitude in a different way, at a later date. I simply ignored her.

After two days, he progressively improved, and they were able to take him off oxygen, although he was still being fed antibiotics as a precautionary measure. He looked like a voodoo doll at this point, full of needle holes. When the doctor said that he might be able to get out of there by the Monday, I was ecstatic. He had earlier said that he might have to be there for 11 days, so this came as a great relief. The following day they were able to take him off the drip and things were looking far better.

Michelle was meant to be discharged on the Friday evening and I was worried that this would make things difficult as she wouldn't have a bed to sleep in, and she would still need to feed him. A nurse said that even though she had to be discharged, she could stay there that night, and could use the room the following day, but not the bed, which meant she would have to sit around all day but have to leave by that evening.

On the Saturday morning, the doctor said that things were looking so good that our boy could leave ICU and stay in the room with his mom. It would effectively mean that she was rooming with him and not the other way round, otherwise we'd have to pay the exorbitant costs that hospitals charge. And best of all, he could return home on the Sunday! So it all worked out in the end.

I left the hospital early that night, to get things ready for his homecoming, as I hadn't had a chance to do so the whole week. I was so relieved, and cognisant of the fact that there were others who were experiencing far worse things in that very ICU. There was a baby who had been delivered prematurely in the adjacent room. At 1,2 kg, he was minute, and would have to reach a weight of around 2kg before he could leave, which they estimated would take around 8 weeks. I can't begin to imagine what that must be like for the parents.

Part 3 still to come.....