Last night, just as the snow began to fall, Archie was admitted to hospital with breathing difficulties. He had been snuffling and showing signs of difficulties over the last two nights, but more significantly the last night, and so we took him into the doctors for what we thought would be a precautionary check up. Not so.
Hilary was told to go to the hospital to have him checked out and so we left the four other boys with the Wheelers and drove over to Poole.
Our visit there began to take on a rather familiar pattern…..
Firstly, we met the initial person to inspect Archie who did various tests and checks and then left us to go and do paperwork etc. He came back a while later and did some more tests, and looked at Archie a little more closely. We waited, he thought a bit and asked us some more questions which we answered. We waited. He then said he was just going to get his colleague to come and have a look as well. Alarm bells. Worry. Fear. What was going wrong now?
His colleague arrived and was very pleasant, asking the same questions again and receiving the same answers. She checked Archie, listened to his breathing, asked some more questions and looked at him again. She left, saying she would be back soon. Wait. Wait. Wait.
Eventually she came back to tell us that she thought Archie had Bronchialitis, but couldn’t be sure. She was in half a mind as to whether to admit him or not. She discussed her feelings with us. Then she decided that it would be better to admit him back into hospital and keep an eye on him, and that was it. Less than a week and a half after Archie had come out of hospital, he was going back in. Gutted. We decided that I would go home and pack a bag for Hilary to use in the short term and that I would then be able to put together the things that she needed were Archie and her to stay in hospital for any longer.
As I left the hospital, it had, quite by surprise, started snowing. The world seemed like a surreal place – dark and quiet at 10 o’clock at night and almost Hollywood-esque – like a stage built set with special effects weather. As I drove home I enjoyed seeing the snow settle and wished that Hilary was going to be at home with us that night.
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By the time I had packed a bag and gone out to the car again, it was a completely different picture. The snow had blown in like a Michael Jackson ninja warrior, attacking by stealth and gripping the area in a white gloved hand. It may have looked beautiful, but it was bloody dangerous. Any slight incline caused the car to slide under even the faintest braking. As I was halfway to Poole I realised that I was committing all the worst sins of driving in these conditions – I was still in my work clothes – a shirt and flimsy suit. I had a small amount of petrol in the car. My phone was almost out of charge. I had a wife and child in hospital, and four other children at home in bed being looked after by a babysitter. What use was I going to be to anyone if I lost control of the car now? Rubbish, rubbish, rubbish.
Snow joke....
I got to the hospital, pretty much shattered from the concentration required not to stow the car into a passing obstacle and almost threw the bag at Hilary in my haste to get back to the car and get home. Hilary, it turned out, was in an internal room looking into an open quadrangle at the hospital that due to the heat being given out by the building did not allow any snow to settle at all, so she had no idea of the conditions outside. I drove home like a snail, noticing the irony that on any other day the possibility of stopping in the large industrial estate car parks to pull a few doughnuts would have been irresistible.
A 30 minute journey took me 1 hour and 10 minutes, but fortunately, I made it home without incident. The next question was what to do now that our family was separated by weather conditions….
No time for doughnuts, unfortunately