The diary of Dad

Valentine’s Day is nearly over and I can honestly say this has been my most memorable one yet.

If you read my post earlier this week on how to survive Valentine’s day, you will know that I have never been a great fan of the day of love but fully intended to make it through without getting divorced by simply being a decent husband for a day.

It’s fair to say that things have not gone quite to plan. Robbie dropped us a gentle reminder that he is here now and ready to shield us from Cupid’s arrow by vomiting heavily and repeatedly through the night. He successfully managed to destroy every set of bedding that he owns, as well as our duvet and several outfits. Subtle.

Of course, this changed the plan for today rather drastically. Robbie was due to go and play with his Grandad for a few hours whilst Mum and Dad spent some time together but this had to be scrapped as we could not unleash him on society whilst his current range of firepower. Grandad come to see him for a play instead and of course Robbie then acted as though he was fine and tried his best to make his parents look silly.

Sarah had to spend the day shopping for bedsheets and clothing in between visits to the laundrette, possibly the least romantic place imaginable, whilst I stayed home with the lethal beast.

Then come the great news, we were all going to be spending the night a place that holds great memories for us all, Colchester hospital!

As with almost anything to do with a baby or toddler, Sarah was advised to take him in by a pharmacist when trying to buy some medicine to settle his tummy. As every parent knows too well, when somebody tells you to go the hospital, you go. Whether it be that you really suspect that something is wrong or simply the fear of having ignored the advice and then being the world’s worst parent, there is simply no choice. So off we went.

We were met at the hospital with the standard welcome to any A&E department on a Friday night as a police officer dragged a screaming drunk from the building. Fortunately it is always a little quicker to get away from the mass of Essex’s finest with a toddler and we strode on to the children’s area.

Robbie was in his usual great spirit as we made our way there. Stopping to wave to everyone we walked past and shouting ‘byeeee.’ (He can’t say hello yet but we know what he means!) This would soon change.

I was about to see a side of my Son that I never thought existed. As the lovely nurse put a strap on Robbie’s toe to take his blood pressure he let out an almighty scream. The nurse asked for us to calm him down to ensure an accurate reading but there was no chance. The boy was fuming.

Having always been a very calm and happy little man, what followed next truly baffled us. Three hours of solid screaming, kicking and general rage more suitable for a cage fighter than a toddler.

The original blood pressure test had pretty much failed. The attempts at feeding him a few millilitres of medicine every five minutes were just as unsuccessful as he continued to wriggle and spit out every drop that temporarily found his mouth.

After a couple of hours of struggle the doctor cautiously returned. They had clearly heard the chaos and had been hoping we would have him settled before trying to do any more tests. First they tried to take his temperature through the ear, no luck. Then came the torch down the throat, no chance. The heartbeat monitor stayed in one place just long enough to prove that he had a heartbeat which was more than enough at this point.

We were given the all clear to start getting packed up to go. We asked if it was ok to give him a little drop of milk to calm him down first, which the Doc told us was no problem. He guzzled through it and was instantly much happier, probably because his evil little mind had already plotted his revenge on the people who had tormented him this whole time.

As quick as a flash, he erupted. Decorating the walls a beautiful shade of milky white as a parting gift to the hospital. This cost us another hour of our lives.

Next up came the heel prick and needless to say it was not well received though thankfully they managed to get what they needed and we were finally free to leave.

So what was the doctor’s prescription and advice for the child who had torn his ward apart for the whole evening? “A couple of sachets of Diaorlyte should fix him up. You can also buy it from your local pharmacy”

So simple. The drug that we had tried to buy at the pharmacy that afternoon but were sent to A&E for. Thanks! Oh…. I still hate Valentine’s Day.

Thanks to all the staff at Colchester A&E and I’m really sorry that Robbie appeared to be possessed by Satan for the duration of his visit. He is fine now he’s back at home though!